Skip to main content

Full text of "The posthumous papers of the Pickwick Club"

See other formats 


DrNBcsc 


'^-< 


A2J^/C^^W 


ia,'(iL  ^l^/  ,^/i  ^  ^.^^  ^^  .::;^^/  .^/  ^:;  ^ 


A4.i.  \c^.-l 


''fj 


I 


L *      "• 


^^--.^ 


WEFT 


■i*!-  -',' .  -i^' '  'iapi»'.?v''.if»ji 


It  r/#  "'^     ■  rM 


i 


^^^-^.^ 


i 


yX'o 


jjy 


CJ'LARL&S      DICXZKS. 


SKl'^L.  f<i«t. 


'/ly/^^^A/" 


'--i'^XJl.u /f/^/.       ™^^ 


^0Sti)umou0  papers 


OF 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


BY    CHARLES    DICKENS. 


WITH 


FORTY-THREE    ILLUSTRATIONS,  BY  R.  SEYiMOUR  AND 

PHIZ. 


LONDON 
CHAPMAN   AND    HALL,    186,   STRAND. 


MDCCCXXXVII. 


LONDON: 

BRADBURY  AND  EVANS,  PRINTERS, 

WHITEFRIARS. 


TO 


MR.   SERJEANT   TALFOURD,   M.  P., 

ETC.,  ETC. 


My  Dear  Sir, 

If  I  had  not  enjoyed  the  happiness  of  your  private  friend- 
ship, I  should  still  have  dedicated  this  work  to  you,  as  a  slight  and 
most  inadequate  acknowledgment  of  the  inestimable  services  you  are 
rendering  to  the  literature  of  your  country,  and  of  the  lasting  benefits 
you  will  confer  upon  the  authors  of  this  and  succeeding  generations,  by 
securing  to  them  and  their  descendants  a  permanent  interest  in  the 
copyright  of  their  works. 

Many  a  fevered  head  and  palsied  hand  will  gather  new  vigour  in 
the  hour  of  sickness  and  distress  from  your  excellent  exertions ;  many 
a  widowed  mother  and  orphan  child,  who  would  otherwise  reap  nothing 
from  the  fame  of  departed  genius  but  its  too  frequent  legacy  of  poverty 
and  suffering,  will  bear,  in  their  altered  condition,  higher  testimony  to 
the  value  of  your  labours  than  the  most  lavish  encomiums  from  lip  or 
pen  could  ever  afford. 

Beside  such  tributes,  any  avowal  of  feeling  from  me,  on  the  question 
to  which  you  have  devoted  the  combined  advantages  of  your  eloquence, 
character,  and  genius,  would  be  powerless  indeed.  Nevertheless,  in 
thus  publicly  expressing  my  deep  and  grateful  sense  of  your  efforts  in 


VI  DEDICATION. 

belialf  of  Englisli  literature,  and  of  those  wlio  devote  tlienisclvcs  to  the 
most  precarious  of  all  pursuits,  I  do  but  imperfect  justice  to  my  own 
strong  feelings  on  the  subject,  if  I  do  no  service  to  you. 

These  few  sentences  would  have  comprised  all  I  should  have  had  to 
say,  if  I  had  only  known  you  in  your  public  character.  On  the  score 
of  private  feeling,  let  me  add  one  word  more. 

Accept  the  dedication  of  this  book,  my  dear  Sir,  as  a  mark  of  my 
warmest  regard  and  esteem — as  a  memorial  of  the  most  gratifying 
friendship  I  have  ever  contracted,  and  of  some  of  the  pleasantest  hours 
I  have  ever  spent — as  a  token  of  my  fervent  admiration  of  every  fine 
quality  of  your  head  and  heart — a.s  an  assurance  of  the  truth  and  sin- 
cerity with  which  I  shall  ever  be, 

!My  dear  Sir, 

]Most  faithfully  and  sincerely  yours, 

CHARLES   DICKENS. 


48,  Doughty   Street, 

September  27,  1037. 


PREFACE. 


The  author's  object  in  this  work,  was  to  place  before  the 
reader  a  constant  succession  of  characters  and  incidents  ;  to  paint 
them  in  as  vivid  colours  as  he  could  command;  and  to  render 
them,  at  the  same  time,  life-like  and  amusing. 

Deferring  to  the  judgment  of  others  in  the  outset  of  the  un- 
dertaking, he  adopted  the  machinery  of  the  club,  which  was 
suggested  as  that  best  adapted  to  his  purpose :  but,  finding  that 
it  tended  rather  to  his  embarrassment  than  otherwise,  he  gra- 
dually abandoned  it,  considering  it  a  matter  of  very  little  impor- 
tance to  the  work  whether  strictly  epic  justice  were  awarded  to 
the  club,  or  not. 

The  publication  of  the  book  in  monthly  numbers,  containing 
only  thirty-two  pages  in  each,  rendered  it  an  object  of  para- 
mount importance  that,  while  the  different  incidents  were  linked 
together  by  a  chain  of  interest  strong  enough  to  prevent  their 
appearing  unconnected  or  impossible,  the  general  design  should 
be  so  simple  as  to  sustain  no  injury  from  this  detached  and 
desultory  form    of  publication,   extending  over   no  fewer  than 


VIU  PREFACE. 

twenty  montlis.  In  short,  it  was  necessary — or  it  appeared  so 
to  the  author — that  every  number  should  be,  to  ascertain  extent, 
complete  in  itself,  and  yet  that  the  whole  twenty  numbers,  when 
collected,  should  form  one  tolerably  harmonious  whole,  each 
leading  to  the  other  by  a  gentle  and  not  unnatural  progress  of 
adventure. 

It  is  obvious  that  in  a  work  published  with  a  view  to  such 
considerations,  no  artfully  interwoven  or  ingeniously  complicated 
plot  can  with  reason  be  expected.  The  author  ventures  to 
express  a  hope  that  he  has  successfully  surmounted  the  dif- 
ficulties of  his  undertaking.  And  if  it  be  objected  to  the 
Pickwick  Papers,  that  they  are  a  mere  series  of  adventures, 
in  which  the  scenes  are  ever  changing,  and  the  characters  come 
and  go  like  the  men  and  women  we  encounter  in  the  real  world, 
he  can  only  content  himself  with  the  reflection,  that  they  claim 
to  be  nothing  else,  and  that  the  same  objection  has  been  made 
to  the  works  of  some  of  the  greatest  novelists  in  the  English 
language. 

The  following  pages  have  been  written  from  time  to  time, 
almost  as  the  periodical  occasion  arose.  Having  been  written 
for  the  most  part  in  the  society  of  a  very  dear  young  friend 
who  is  now  no  more,  they  are  connected  in  the  author's  mind 
at  once  with  the  happiest  period  of  his  life,  and  with  its  saddest 
and  most  severe  affliction. 

It  is  due  to  the  gentleman,  whose  designs  accompany  the 
letter-press,  to  state  that  the  interval  has  been  so  short  between 
the  production  of  each  number  in  manuscript  and  its  appear- 
ance in  print,  that  the  greater  portion  of  the  Illustrations  have 


PREFACE.  IX 

been  executed  by   the  artist  from  the  author's  mere  verbal  de- 
scription of  what  he  intended  to  write. 

The  almost  unexampled  kindness  and  favour  with  which  these 
papers  have  been  received  by  the  public  will  be  a  never-faiHng 
source  of  gratifying  and  pleasant  recollection  while  their  author 
lives.  He  trusts  that,  throughout  this  book,  no  incident  or 
expression  occurs  which  could  call  a  blush  into  the  most  deli- 
cate check,  or  wound  the  feelings  of  the  most  sensitive  per- 
son. If  any  of  his  imperfect  descriptions,  while  they  afford 
amusement  in  the  perusal,  should  induce  only  one  reader  to 
think  better  of  his  fellow  men,  and  to  look  upon  the  brighter 
and  more  kindly  side  of  human  nature,  he  would  indeed  be 
proud  and  happy  to  have  led  to  such  a  result. 


CONTENTS. 


PACK 

Chapter  I. — The  Pickwickians      ......  1 

Chap.  II The  first  Day's  Journey,  and  the  first  Evening's  Adventures  ; 

with  their  consequences  ......  5 

Chap.  III. — A  new  Acquaintance.     The  Stroller's  Tale — A  disagreeable 

Interruption  ;  and  an  unpleasant  Rencontre      .  .  .  .25 

Chap.  IV. — A   Field   day   and    Bivouac — More   new   Friends  ;     and    an 

Invitation  to  the  Country  ......         34 

Chap.  V. — A  short  one — showing,  annong  other  matters,  how  Mr.  Pick- 
wick undertook  to  drive,  and  Mr.  Winkle  to  ride ;  and  how  they  both 
did  it      .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .43 

Chap.  VI. — An    old-fashioned   Card   Party — The   Clergyman's  Verses — 

The  Story  of  the  Convict's  Return         .  .  .  .  .51 

Chap.  VII. — How  Mr.  Winkle,  instead  of  shooting  at  the  Pigeon  and  kill- 
ing the  Crow,  shot  at  the  Crow  and  wounded  the  Pigeon  ;  how  the 
Dingley  Dell  Cricket  Club  played  all  Muggleton,  and  how  all  Muggle- 
ton  dined  at  the  Dingley  Dell  expense  :  with  other  interesting  and  in- 
structive matters  .......         G2 

Chap.  VIII. — Strongly  illustrative  of  the  Position,  that  the  course  of  true 

love  is  not  a  Railway       .......         73 

Chap.  IX. — A  Discovery  and  a  Chase  ....  .83 

Chap.  X. — Clearing  up  all  Doubts  (if  any  existed)  of  the  Disinterestedness 

of  Mr.  Jingle's  Character  ......         90 

Chap.  XI. — Involving  another  Journey,  and  an  Antiquarian  Discovery. 
Recording  Mr.  Pickwick's  determination  to  be  present  at  an  Election ; 
and  containing  a  Manuscript  of  the  old  Clergyman's      .  .  .       101 

Chap.  XII. — Descriptive  of  a  very  important  Proceeding  on  the  part  of 

Mr.  Pickwick  ;  no  less  an  epoch  in  his  Life  than  in  this  History  .       1 15 

Chap.  XIII. — Some  Account  of  Eatanswill  ;  of  the  state  of  Parties  there- 
in ;  and  of  the  Election  of  a  Member  to  serve  in  Parliament  for  that 
anpient,  loyal,  and  patriotic  Borough     .....       120 


Xll  CONTENTS. 


FAOI 


Chap.  XIV. — Comprising  a  brief  Description  of  the  Company  at  the  Pea- 

cock  assembled  ;  and  a  Tale  told  by  a  Bagman  .  .  .134 

Crap.  XV. — In  which  is  given  a  faithful  Portraiture  of  two  distin- 
guished Persons;  and  an  accurate  description  of  a  Public  Breakfast 
in  their  House  and  Grounds :  which  Public  Breakfast  leads  to  the  Re- 
cognition of  an  old  Acquaintance,  and  the  commencement  of  another 
Chapter  ........       147 

Chap.  XVI. — Too  full  of  Adventure  to  be  briefly  described  .  .158 

Chap.  XVII. — Showing  that  an  Attack  of  Rheumatism,  in  some  cases, 

acts  as  a  Quickener  to  Inventive  Genius  ....       172 

Chap.  XVIII. — Briefly  illustrative  of  two  Points  : — First,  the  Power  of 

Hysterics,  and,  Secondly,  the  Force  of  Circumstances  .  .179 

Chap.  XIX. — A  pleasant  Day,  with  an  unpleasant  Termination  .       187 

Chap.  XX Showing  how  Dodson  and  Fogg  were  Men  of  Business,  and 

their  Clerks  Men  of  Pleasure  ;  and  how  an  affecting  Interview  took 
place  between  Mr.  Weller  and  his  long-lost  Parent ;  showing  also, 
what  Choice  Spirits  assembled  at  the  Magpie  and  Stump,  and  what  a 
capital  Chapter  the  next  one  will  be  .  .  .  .198 

Chap.  XXI. — In  which  the  old  Man  launches  forth  into   his  favourite 

theme,  and  relates  a  Story  about  a  queer  Client  .  .  .211 

Chap.  XXII. — Mr.   Pickwick  journeys  to  Ipswich,    and  meets  with   a 

romantic  Adventure  with  a  middle-aged  Lady  in  Yellow  Curl  Papers         224 

Chap.  XXIII. — In  which  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  begins  to  devote  his  energies 

to  the  Return  Match  between  Himself  and  Mr.  Trotter  .  .       236 

Chap.  XXIV. — Wherein  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  grows  jealous,  and  the 
middle-aged  Lady  apprehensive,  which  brings  the  Pickwickians  within 
the  Grasp  of  the  Law     .......       243 

Chap.  XXV. — Showing,  among  a  variety  of  pleasant  matters,  how  ma- 
jestic and  impartial  Mr.  Nupkins  was ;  and  how  Mr.  Weller  returned 
Mr.  Job  Trotter's  Shuttlecock,  as  heavily  as  it  came.  With  another 
matter,  which  will  be  found  in  its  place  ....       255 

Chap.  XXVI. — Which  contains  a  brief  account  of  the  Progress  of  the 

Action  of  Bardell  against  Pickwick        .....       269 

Chap.  XXVII. — Samuel  Weller    makes  a  Pilgrimage  to  Dorking,    and 

beholds  his  Mother-in-law  ......       275 

Chap.  XXVIII. — A  good-humoured  Christmas  Chapter,  containing  an  ac- 
count of  a  Wedding,  and  some  other  Sports  beside,  which,  although  in 
their  way  even  as  good  customs  as  Marriage  itself,  are  not  quite  so 
religiously  kept  up,  in  these  degenerate  times  .  .  .       282 

Chap.  XXVIII  * ^The  Story  of  the  GobUns  who  stole  a  Sexton  .       299 


CONTENTS.  Xiii 

PAGB 

Chap.  XXIX. — How  the  Pickwickians  made  and  cultivated  the  Ac- 
quaintance of  a  couple  of  nice  Young  Men  belonging  to  one  of  the 
Liberal  Professions  ;  how  they  disported  themselves  on  the  Ice  ;  and 
how  their  Visit  came  to  a  conclusion  ....       307 

Chap.  XXX. — Which  is  all  about  the  Law,  and  sundry  Great  Authorities 

learned  therein  .  .  .  .  .  •  .316 

Chap.  XXXI. — Describes,  far  more  fully  than  the  Court  Newsman  ever 
did,  a  Bachelor's  Party,  given  by  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  at  his  Lodgings  in 
the  Borough       .  .......       328 

Chap.  XXXII. — Mr.  Weller  the  elder  delivers  some  Critical  Sentiments 
respecting  Literary  Composition  ;  and,  assisted  by  his  son  Samuel, 
pays  a  small  Instalment  of  Retaliation  to  the  account  of  the  Reverend 
Gentleman  with  the  Red  Nose  .....       339 

Chap.  XXXIII. — Is  wholly  devoted  to  a  full  and  faithful  Report  of  the 

memorable  Trial  of  Bardell  against  Pickwick  .  .  .       352 

Chap.  XXXIV In  which  Mr.  Pickwick  thinks  he  had  better  go  to  Bath; 

and  goes  accordingly       .  .  .  ,  .  .  .371 

Chap.  XXXV. — The  chief  features  of  which  will  be  found  to  be  an  au- 
thentic Version  of  the  Legend  of  Prince  Bladud,  and  a  most  extraor- 
dinary Calamity  that  befel  Mr.  Winkle  «...       383 

Chap.  XXXVI. — Honourably  accounts  for  Mr.  Weller's  Absence,  by  de- 
scribing a  Soiree  to  which  he  was  invited  and  went Also  relates  how 

he  was  entrusted  by  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  Private  Mission  of  Delicacy 

and  Importance  .......       392 

Chap.  XXXVII. — How  Mr.  Winkle,  when  he  stepped  out  of  the  Frying- 
pan,  walked  gently  and  comfortably  into  the  Fire  .  .  .       403 

Chap.  XXXVIII — Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  being  entrusted  with  a  Mission  of 

Love,  proceeds  to  execute  it ;  with  what  success  will  hereinafter  appear       413 

Chap.  XXXIX. — Introduces  Mr.  Pickwick  to  a  new,  and  it  is  hoped  not 

uninteresting  scene,  in  the  great  Drama  of  Life  .  .  .       425 

Chap.  XL. — What  befel  Mr.  Pickwick  when  he  got  into  the  Fleet ;  what 

Debtors  he  saw  there  ;  and  how  he  passed  the  Night  .  .       435 

Chap.  XLI. — Illustrative,  like  the  preceding  one,  of  the  old  Proverb,  that 
Adversity  Ijrings  a  Man  acquainted  with  strange  Bed-fellows.  Like- 
wise containing  Mr.  Pickwick's  extraordinary  and  startling  announce- 
ment to  Mr.  Samuel  Weller       .  .  .  .  .  .445 

Chap.  XLII. — Showing  how  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  got  into  difficulties  .       456 

Chap.  XLIII — Treats  of  divers  little  matters  which  occurred  in  the  Fleet, 
and  of  Mr.  Winkle's  mysterious  Behaviour  ;  and  shows  how  the  poor 
Chancery  Prisoner  obtained  his  Release  at  last  ,  ,  ,       4fi7 


Xiv  CONTENTS. 

TAGI 

CiiA!'.  XLIV. — Descriptive  of  an  affecting  Interview  between  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller  and  a  Family  Party.  Mr.  Pickwick  makes  a  Tour  of  the  dimi- 
nutive World  he  inhabits,  and  resolves  to  mix  with  it  in  future  as  little 
as  possible  ........       478 

Chap.  XLV. — Records   a  touchinfj  Act  of  delicate  Feeling,  not  unmixed 

with  Pleasantry,  achieved  and  performed  by  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg.       491 

Chap.  XLVI. — Is  chiefly  devoted  to  matters  of  business,  and  the  tem- 
poral Advantage  of  Dodson  and  Fogg — Mr.  Winkle  re-appears  under 
extraordinary  circumstances  ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  Benevolence  proves 
stronger  than  his  Obstinacy        ......       499 

Chap.  XLVII. — Relates  how  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the  assistance  of  Samuel 
Weller,  essayed  to  soften  tlie  heart  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  and  to 
mollify  the  wrath  of  Mr.  Robert  Sawyer  ....       508 

Chap.  XLVIIL— Containing  the  Story  of  the  Bagman's  Uncle       .  •       518 

Chap.  XLIX.— How  Mr.  Pickwick   sped  upon  his  Mission,  and  how  he 

was  reinforced  in  the  Outset  by  a  most  unexpected  Auxiliary  .       531 

Chap.  L. — In  which  Mr.  Pickwick  encounters  an  old  Acquaintance,  to 
which  fortunate  circumstance  the  Reader  is  mainly  indebted  for  matter 
of  thrilling  interest  herein  set  down,  concerning  two  great  Public  Men 
of  might  and  power  •     .  .  •  •  •  •       542 

Chap.  LI. Involving  a  serious   Change  in  the  Weller  family,   and   the 

untimely  downfall  of  the  red-nosed  Mr.  Stiggins  .  .  .       553 

Chap.  LIL— Comprising  the  final  exit  of  Mr.  Jingle  and  Job  Trotter; 
with  a  Great  Morning  of  Business  in  Gray's  Inn  Square.  Concluding 
with  a  Double  Knock  at  Mr.  Perker's  door        .  .  .  .       5G3 

Chap.  LIII.— Containing  some  Particulars  relative  to  the  Double  Knock, 
and  other  Matters,  among  which  certain  Interesting  Disclosures 
relative  to  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  a  Young  Lady  are  by  no  means 
irrelevant  to  this  History  .  .  •  •  •  .       j/o 

Chap.  LIV.— Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  assisted  by  a  Select  Committee  of  Coach- 
men, arranges  the  Affairs  of  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  .  .  .585 

Chap.  LV.— An  Important  Conference  takes  place  between  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  Samuel  Weller,  at  which  his  Parent  assists.— An  old  Gentleman  in 
a  snuff-coloured  Suit  arrives  unexpectedly  ....       594 

Chap.  LVI.— In  which  the  Pickwick  Club  is  finally  dissolved,  and  every- 
thing concluded  to  the  satisfaction  of  everybody  .  .      6^* 


DIRECTIONS  TO  THE  BINDER. 


The  under-mentioned  Plates,  wliich  have  no  annexed  references,  are  to  he  placed 

in  the  following  order  .- — 

Mr.  Winkle  entering  the  Sedan  Chair,  (No.  13.) 
The  Card  Table  at  Bath,  (No.  U.) 
The  Drinking  Party  at  Bob  Sawyer's  (No.  14.) 
Mr.  Pickwick  Sitting  for  his  Portrait,  (No,  14.) 
Mr.  Mivins  Dancing  in  the  Warden's  Room,  (No.  15.) 
Discovery  of  Mr.  Jingle  in  the  Fleet,  (No.  15.) 
Mr.  Stiggins  discoursing,  (No.  16.)  .         . 

Mrs.  Bardell  recognising  Mr.  Pickwick,  (No.  16.; 
Mr.  Winkle  disclosing  his  Marriage,  on  his  knees,  (No 
The  Bagman's  Uncle,  (No.  17.)  ... 

Bob  Sawyer  on  the  Roof  of  the  Chaise,  (No.  18.) 
The  Combat  between  the  Rival  Editors,  (No.  18.) 
The  Fat  Boy  and  Mary  (No.  ly  and  20.) 
Tlie  Coachmen  Drinking  the  Toast  (Nos.  19  and  20.) 


to  face 

page 

391 

•    »f 

382 

.  -   .    tf 

409 

•    >» 

434 

•    ft 

441 

•    »» 

453 

•    >» 

484 

•    •    > » 

498 

.  17.) 

504 

•    •    »» 

523 

•    )> 

533 

•     •     n 

553 

•     •      > 

579 
590 

ERRATA. 


Page  1,  line  9,  for  1817,  read  1827. 

Page  185,  line  25,  for  1830,  read  1827. 

Page  202,  line  30,  for  1830,  read  1827. 

Page  278,  line  40,  for  the  elder  Mr.  Samuel,  read  the  elder  Mr.  Weller. 

Page  342,  line  5,  for  S.  Veller,  Esq.,  Senior,  read  Tony  Veller,  Esq. 

Page  541,  line  12,  for  Sun  Court,  Cornhill,  read  George  Yard,  Lombard  Street. 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS 


OK 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE    PICKWICKIANS. 


The  first  ray  of  light  which  illumines  the  gloom,  and  converts  into  u 
dazzling  brilliancy  that  obscurity  in  which  the  earlier  history  of  the  public 
career  of  the  immortal  Pickwick  would  appear  to  be  involved,  is  derived 
from  the  perusal  of  the  following  entry  in  the  Transactions  of  the  Pick- 
wick Club,  which  the  editor  of  these  papers  feels  the  highest  pleasure 
in  laying  before  his  readers,  as  a  proof  of  the  careful  attention,  inde- 
fatigable assiduity,  and  nice  discrimination,  with  which  his  search  among 
the  multifarious  documents  confided  to  him  has  been  conducted. 

«  May  12,  1817.  Joseph  Smiggers,  Esq.,  P.  V.  P.  M.  P.  C*  pre- 
siding.    The  following  resolutions  unanimously  agreed  to. 

"  That  this  Association  has  heard  read,  with  feelings  of  unmingled 
satisfaction,  and  unqualified  approval,  the  paper  communicated  by  Samuel 
Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.C.  M.  P.  C.f  entitled  "  Speculations  on  the  Source  of 
the  Hampstead  Ponds,  with  Some  Observations  on  the  Theory  of  Tittle- 
bats ;"  and  that  this  Association  does  hereby  return  its  warmest  thanks 
to  the  said  Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.  C.  M.  P.  C.  for  the  same. 

"  That  while  this  Association  is  deeply  sensible  of  the  advantages 
which  must  accrue  to  the  cause  of  science,  from  the  production  to  which 
they  have  just  adverted,  no  less  than  from  the  unwearied  researches  of 
Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.  C.  M.  P.  C.  in  Hornsey,  Highgate,  Brixton, 
and  Camberwell;  they  cannot  but  entertain  a  lively  sense  of  the  ines- 
timable benefits  which  must  inevitably  result  from  carrying  the  specu- 
lations of  that  learned  man  into  a  wider  field,  from  extending  his 
travels,  and  consequently  enlarging  his  sphere  of  observation ;  to  the 
advancement  of  knowledge,  and  the  diflfusion  of  learning. 

"That  with  the  view,  just  mentioned,  this  Association  has  taken 
into  its  serious  consideration  a  proposal,  emanating  from  the  aforesaid 
Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  (i.C.  M.  P.  C,  and  three  other  Pickwickians 
hereinafter  named,  for  forming  a  new  branch  of  United  Pickwickians 
under  the  title  of  The  Corret^ponding  Society  of  the  Pickwick  Club. 

•  Perpetual  Vice  Presiilcnt — Member  Pickwi.'k  Club. — Ed. 
1-  Geueral  Chairman  -Member  Pickwick  Club. — Ed. 


2  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  That  the  saiil  proposal  has  received  the  sanction  and  approval  of 
this  Association. 

"That  the  Corresponding  Society  of  the  Pickwick  Club  is  therefore 
hereby  constituted  ;  and  that  Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.  G.C.  M.P.C., 
Tracy  Tupman,  Esq.,  M.P.C.,  Augustus  Snodgrass,  Esq.,  M.P.C., 
and  Nathaniel  Winkle,  Esq.,  M.P.C.,  are  hereby  nominated  and  ap- 
pointed members  of  the  same  :  and  that  they  be  requested  to  forward, 
from  time  to  time,  authenticated  accounts  of  their  journeys  and  inves- 
tigations ;  of  their  observations  of  character  and  manners  ;  and  of  the 
whole  of  their  adventures,  together  with  all  tales  and  papers,  to  which 
local  scenery  or  associations  may  give  rise,  to  the  Pickwick  Club, 
stationed  in  London. 

"  That  this  association  cordially  recognises  the  principle  of  every 
member  of  the  Corresponding  Society  defraying  his  own  travelling 
expenses  ;  and  that  it  sees  no  objection  whatever  to  the  members  of 
the  said  society  pursuing  their  inquiries  for  any  length  of  time  they 
please,  upon  the  same  terms. 

"  That  the  members  of  the  aforesaid  Corresponding  Society,  be,  and  are, 
hereby  informed,  that  their  proposal  to  pay  the  postage  of  their  letters,  and 
the  carriage  of  their  parcels,  has  been  deliberated  upon,  by  this  Associa- 
tion. That  this  Association  considers  such  proposal  worthy  of  the 
great  minds  from  which  it  emanated  ;  and  that  it  hereby  signifies  its 
perfect  acquiescence  therein." 

A  casual  observer,  adds  the  secretary,  to  whose  notes  we  are  indebted 
for  the  following  account — a  casual  observer  might  possibly  have 
remarked  nothing  extraordinary  in  the  bald  head,  and  circular  spectacles, 
which  were  intently  turned  towards  his  (the  secretary's)  face,  during 
the  reading  of  the  above  resolutions.  To  those  who  knew  that  the 
gigantic  brain  of  Pickwick  was  working  beneath  that  forehead,  and  that 
the  beaming  eyes  of  Pickwick  were  twinkling  behind  thdse  glasses, 
the  sight  was  indeed  an  interesting  one.  There  sat  the  man  who  had 
traced  to  their  source  the  mighty  ponds  of  Hampstead,  and  agitated 
the  scientific  world  with  his  Theory  of  Tittlebats,  as  calm  and  unmoved 
as  the  deep  waters  of  the  one  on  a  frosty  day,  or  as  a  solitary  specimen 
of  the  other,  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  an  earthen  jar.  And  how 
much  more  interesting  did  the  spectacle  become,  when,  starting 
into  full  life  and  animation,  as  a  simultaneous  call  for  "Pickwick" 
burst  from  his  followers,  that  illustrious  man  slowly  mounted 
into  the  Windsor  chair,  on  which  he  had  been  previously  seated, 
and  addressed  the  club  himself  had  founded.  What  a  study  for  an 
artist  did  that  exciting  scene  present  I  The  eloquent  Pickwick,  with 
one  hand  gracefully  concealed  behind  his  coat  tails,  and  the  other  waving 
in  air  to  assist  his  glowing  declamation  :  his  elevated  position  revealing 
those  tights  and  gaiters,  which,  had  they  clothed  an  ordinary  man, 
might  hav.e  passed  without  observation,  but  which,  when  Pickwick 
clothed  them — if  we  may  use  the  expression — inspired  involuntary 
awe  and  respect ;  surrounded  by  the  men  who  had  volunteered  to  share 
the  perils  of  his  travels,  and  who  were  destined  to  participate  in  the 
glories  of  his  discovepies.  On  his  right  hand,  sat  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  ; 
the  too  susceptible  Tupman,  who  to  the  wisdom  and  experience    of 


/•'vy- 


I 


r 


THE    riCKWlCK    CLUB.  O 

maturer  years  superaiUled  the  enthusiiism  and  arilour  ol  a  boy,  in  the 
most  interesting  and  pardonable  of  human  weaknesses — love.  Time 
and  feeding  had  expanded  that  once  romantic  form  ;  the  black  silk  waist- 
coat had  become  more  and  more  developed;  inch  by  inch  had  the  gold 
watch-chain  beneath  it  disappeared  from  within  the  range  of  Tiipman's 
vision ;  and  gradually  had  the  capacious  chin  encroached  upon  the 
borders  of  the  white  cravat,  but  the  soul  of  Tupman  had  known  no  change 
—admiration  of  the  fair  sex  was  still  its  ruling  passion.  On  the  left  of 
his  great  leader  sat  the  poetic  Snodgrass,  and  near  him  again  the  sport- 
ing Winkle,  the  former  poetically  enveloped  in  a  mysterious  blue 
cloak  with  a  canine-skin  collar,  and  the  latter  communicating  additional 
lustre  to  a  new  green  shooting  coat,  plaid  neckerchief,  and  closely  fitted 
drabs. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  oration  upon  this  occasion,  together  with  the  debate 
thereon,  is  entered  on  the  Transactions  of  the  Club.  Both  bear  a  strong 
affinity  to  the  discussions  of  other  celebrated  bodies;  and,  as  it  is  always 
interesting  to  trace  a  resemblance  between  the  proceedings  of  great  men, 
we  transfer  the  entry  to  these  pages. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick  observed  (says  the  Secretary)  that  fame  was  dear  to 
the  heart  of  every  man.  Poetic  fame  was  dear  to  the  heart  of  his  friend 
Snodgrass,  the  fame  of  conquest  was  equally  dear  to  his  friend  Tupman  ; 
and  the  desire  of  earning  fame,  in  the  sports  of  the  field,  the  air,  and 
the  water,  was  uppermost  in  the  breast  of  his  friend  Winkle.  He 
(Mr.  Pickwick)  would  not  deny,  that  he  was  influenced  by  human  pas- 
sions, and  human  feelings,  (cheers) — possibly  by  human  weaknesses — 
(loud  cries  of  "  No") ;  but  this  he  would  say,  that  if  ever  the  fire  of 
self-importance  broke  out  in  his  bosom  the  desire  to  benefit  the 
human  race  in  preference,  effectually  quenched  it.  The  praise  of  man- 
kind was  his  Swing;  philanthropy  was  his  insurance  office.  (Vehement 
cheering.)  He  had  felt  some  pride — he  acknowledged  it  freely  ;  aud 
let  his  enemies  make  the  most  of  it — he  had  felt  some  pride  when  he 
presented  his  Tittlebatian  Theory  to  the  world ;  it  might  be  celebrated 
or  it  might  not.  (A  cry  of  "  It  is,"  and  great  cheering.)  He  would 
take  the  assertion  of  that  honourable  Pickwickian  whose  voice  he  had 
lust  heard — it  was  celebrated  ;  but  if  the  fame  of  that  treatise  were  to 
extend  to  the  farthest  confines  of  the  known  world,  the  pride  with  which 
he  should  reflect  on  the  authorship  of  that  production,  would  be  as  no- 
thing compared  with  the  pride  with  which  he  looked  around  him,  on 
this,  the  proudest  moment  of  his  existence.  (Cheers.)  He  was  a 
humble  individual.  (No,  no.)  Still  he  could  not  but  feel  that  they 
had  selected  him  for  a  service  of  great  honour,  and  of  some  danger. 
Travelling  was  in  a  troubled  state,  and  the  minds  of  coachmen  were 
unsettled.  Let  them  look  abroad,  and  contemplate  the  scenes  which 
were  enacting  around  them.  Stage  coaches  were  upsetting  in  all  direc- 
tions, horses  were  bolting,  boats  were  overturning,  and  boilers  were 
bursting.  (Cheers— a  voice  "  No.")  No !  (Cheers.)  Let  that 
honourable  Pickwickian  who  cried  "  No  "  so  loudly,  come  forward  and 
deny  it,  if  he  could.  (Cheers.)  Who  was  it  that  cried  "  No?"  (En- 
thusiastic cheering.)  W^as  it  some  vain  and  disappointed  man — he 
would  not  «ay  haberdasher — (loud  cheers) — v/ho,  jealous  of  the  praise 


4  I'osTinurous  rArrns  or 

which  had  been — perhaj)s  undeservedly — bestowed  on  his  (Mr.  Pick- 
wick's) researches,  and  smarting  under  the  censure  which  had  been 
heaped  upon  his  own  feeble  attempts  at  rivalry,  now  took  this  vile  and 
calumnious  mode  of 

"Mr.  Blotton,  (of  Aldgate,)  rose  to  order.  Did  the  honourable 
Pickwickian  allude  to  him  ?  (Cries  of  "  Order,"  "  Chair,"  "  Yes,* 
"  No,"  "  Go  on,"  '*  Leave  off,"  &c.) 

**  Mr.  Pickwick  would  not  put  up  to  be  put  down  by  clamour.  He 
had  alluded  to  the  honourable  gentleman.     (Great  excitement). 

"  Mr.  Blotton  would  only  say  then,  that  he  repelled  the  hon. 
gent's  false  and  scurrilous  accusation,  with  profound  contempt.  (Great 
cheering.)  The  hon.  gent,  was  a  humbug.  (Immense  confusion, 
and  loud  cries  of  "  chair  "  and  "  order.") 

"  Mr.  A.  Snodgrass  rose  to  order.  He  threw  himself  upon  the 
chair.  (Hear.)  He  wished  to  know,  whether  this  disgraceful  contest 
between  two  members  of  that  club,  should  be  allowed  to  continue. 
(Hear,  hear.) 

"The  Chairman  was  quite  sure  the  hon.  Pickwickian  would  with- 
draw the  expression  he  had  just  made  use  of. 

"  Mr.  Blotton,  with  all  possible  respect  for  the  chair,  was  quite 
sure  he  would  not. 

"  The  Chairman  felt  it  his  imperative  duty  to  demand  of  the 
honourable  gentleman,  whether  he  had  used  the  expression  which  had 
just  escaped  him,  in  a  common  sense. 

"  Mr.  Blotton  had  no  hesitation  in  saying,  that  he  had  not — he 
had  used  the  word  in  its  Pickwickian  sense.  (Hear,  hear.)  He  was 
bound  to  acknowledge,  that,  personally,  he  entertained  the  highest 
regard  and  esteem  for  the  honourable  gentleman ;  he  had  merely 
considered  him  a  humbug  in  a  Pickwickian  point  of  view.  (Hear, 
hean^ 

"  Mr.  Pickwick  felt  much  gratified  by  the  fair,  candid,  and  full 
explanation  of  his  honourable  friend.  He  begged  it  to  be  at  once 
understood,  that  his  own  observations  had  been  merely  intended  to 
bear  a  Pickwickian  construction.     (Cheers.)  " 

Here  the  entry  terminates,  as  we  have  no  doubt  the  debate  did  also, 
after  arriving  at  such  a  highly  satisfactory,  and  intelligible  point. 
We  have  no  official  statement  of  the  facts,  which  the  reader  will  find 
recorded  in  the  next  chapter,  but  they  have  been  carefully  collated 
from  letters  and  other  MS.  authorities,  so  unquestionably  genuine, 
as  to  justify  their  narration  in  a  connected  form 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE    FIRST    day's    JOURNEY,     AND    THE    FIRST     EVENINo's 
ADVENTURES;    WITH    THEIR    CONSEQUENCES. 

That  punctual  servant  of  all  work,  the  sun,  had  just  risen,  and 
begun  to  strike  a  light  on  the  morning  of  the  thirteenth  of  May,  one 
thousand  eight  hundred  and  twenty-seven,  when  Mr.  8amuel  Pickwick 
burst  like  another  sun  from  his  shimbers ;  threw  open  his  chamber 
window,  and  looked  out  upon  the  world  beneath.  Goswell-street  was  at 
bis  feet,  Goswell-street  was  on  his  right  hand — as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  Goswell-street  extended  on  his  left;  and  the  opposite  side  of 
Goswell-street  was  over  the  way.  *'  Such,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  are 
the  narrow  views  of  those  philosophers  who,  content  with  examining 
the  things  that  lie  before  them,  look  not  to  the  truths  which  are  hidden 
beyond.  As  well  might  I  be  content  to  gaze  on  Goswell-street  for  ever, 
without  one  effort  to  penetrate  to  the  hidden  countries  which  on  every 
side  surround  it."  And  having  given  vent  to  this  beautiful  reflection, 
Mr.  Pickwick  proceeded  to  put  himself  into  his  clothes ;  and  his  clothes 
into  his'portmanteau.  Great  men  are  seldom  over  scrupulous  in  the 
arrangement  of  their  attire;  the  operation  of  shaving,  dressing,  and 
coflfee-imbibing  was  soon  performed :  and,  in  another  hour,  Mr. 
Pickwick,  with  his  portmanteau  in  his  hand,  his  telescope  in  his  great- 
coat pocket,  and  his  note-book  in  his  waistcoat,  ready  for  the  reception  of 
any  discoveries  worthy  of  being  noted  down,  had  arrived  at  the  coach 
stand  in  Saint  Martin's- le-Grand. 

*'  Cab  !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Here  you  are.  Sir,"  shouted  a  strange  specimen  of  the  human  race, 
in  a  sackcloth  coat,  and  apron  of  the  same,  who  with  a  brass  label  and 
number  round  his  neck,  looked  as  if  he  were  catalogued  in  some  collec- 
tion of  rarities.  This  was  the  waterman.  "  Here  you  are.  Sir.  Now, 
then,  fust  cab  ! "  And  the  first  cab  having  been  fetched  from  the 
public  house,  where  he  had  been  smoking  his  first  pipe,  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  his  portmanteau  were  thrown  into  the  vehicle. 

"  Golden  Cross,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Only  a  bob's  vortb.  Tommy," — cried  the  driver,  sulkily,  for  the 
information  of  his  friend  the  waterman,  as  the  cab  drove  off. 

"  How  old  is  that  horse,  my  friend  ?"  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  rubbing 
his  nose  with  the  shilling  he  had  reserved  for  the  fare. 

"  Forty-two,"  replied  the  driver,  eyeing  him  askant. 

"  What !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  note- 
book. The  driver  reiterated  his  former  statement.  Mr.  Pickwick 
looked  very  hard  at  the  man's  face,  but  his  features  were  immoveable, 
so  he  noted  down  the  fact  forthwith. 

**  And  how  long  do  you  keep  him  out  at  a  time?"  inquired  Mr, 
Pickwick,  searching  for  further  information. 


B  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    0¥ 

"  Two  or  three  veeks, "  replied  the  man. 

"  Weeks  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  in  astonishment — and  out  came  the 
note-book  again. 

"  He  lives  at  Pentonwil  when  he's  at  home,"  observed  the  driver, 
coolly,  "but  we  seldom  takes  him  home,  on  account  of  his  veakness." 

"  On  account  of  his  weakness  ;"  reiterated  the  perplexed  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  He  always  falls  down,  when  he's  took  out  o'  the  cab,"  continued  the 
driver,  "  but  when  he's  in  it,  we  bears  him  up  werry  tig-ht,  and  takes 
him  in  werry  short,  so  as  he  can't  werry  well  fall  down,  and  we've  got  a 
pair  o'  precious  large  wheels  on  ;  so  ven  he  does  move,  they  run  after 
him,  and  he  must  go  on — he  can't  help  it." 

Mr.  Pickwick  entered  every  word  of  this  statement  in  his  note-book, 
with  the  view  of  communicating  it  to  the  club,  as  a  singular  instance  of 
the  tenacity  of  life  in  horses,  under  trying  circumstances.  The  entry 
was  scarcely  completed  when  they  reached  the  Golden  Cross.  Down 
jumped  the  driver,  and  out  got  Mr.  Pickwick.  Mr,  Tupman,  Mr. 
Suodgrass,  and  Mr.  Winkle,  who  had  been  anxiously  waiting  the 
arrival  of  their  illustrious  leader,  crowded  to  welcome  him. 

"  Here  's  your  fare,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  holding  out  the  shilling  to 
the  driver. 

What  was  the  learned  man's  astonishment,  when  that  unaccountable 
person  flung  the  money  on  the  pavement,  and  requested  in  figurative 
terms  to  be  allowed  the  pleasure  of  fighting  him  (Mr.  Pickwick)  for 
the  amount  I 

"  You  are  mad,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Or  drunk,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Or  both,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Come  on,"  said  the  cab-driver,  sparring  away  like  clock-work. 
"  Come  on — all  four  on  you." 

"  Here's  a  lark  !  "  shouted  half  a  dozen  hackney  coachmen.  "  Go  to 
vork,  Sam," — and  they  crowded  with  great  glee  round  the  party. 

"  What's  the  row,  Sam  ?"  inquired  one  gentleman  in  black  calico 
sleeves. 

"  Row  !  "  replied  the  cabman,  "  What  did  he  want  my  number  for?  *' 

"  I  didn't  want  your   number,"  said   the  astonished  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  W^hat  did  you  take  it  for,  then  ?"  inquired  the  cabman. 

"  I  didn't  take  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  indignantly. 

"  W^ould  any  body  believe,"  continued  the  cab-driver,  appealing  to 
the  crowd, — *'  Would  any  body  believe  as  an  informer  'ud  go  about  in  a 
man's  cab,  not  only  takin'  down  his  number,  but  ev'ry  word  he  says 
into  the  bargain,  (a  light  flashed  upon  Mr.  Pickwick — it  was  the  note- 
book.)" 

"  Did  he  though  ?  "  inquired  another  cabman. 

"  Yes,  did  he,"  replied  the  first— "and  then  arter  aggerawatin'  me  to 
assault  him,  gets  three  witnesses  here  to  prove  it.  But  I'll  give  it  him, 
if  I've  six  months  for  it.  Comeon,"and  the  cabman  dashed  his  hat  upon 
the  ground,  with  a  reckless  disregard  of  his  own  private  property,  and 
knocked  Mr.  Pickwick's  spectacles  off,  and  followed  up  the  attack  with 
a  blow  on  Mr.  Pic^iwick's  nose,  and  another  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  chest, 


* 


paat .  /. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  7 

and  a  third  in  Mr.  Snodgrass's  eye,  and  a  fourth,  by  way  of  variety,  in 
Mr.  Tiipman's  waistcoat,  and  then  danced  into  the  road,  and  then   back 
again  to  the  pavement,  and  finally  dashed  the  whole  temporary  supply 
of  breath  out  of  Mr.  Winkle's  body  ;  and  all  in  half  a  dozen  seconds. 
"  W  here's  an  officer,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 
"  Put  'em  under  the  pump,"  suggested  a  hot-pieman. 
"  You  shall  smart  for  this,"  gasped  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"  Informers,"  shouted  the  crowd. 

"  Come  on,"  cried  the  cabman,  who  had  been  sparring  without 
cessation  the  whole  time. 

The  mob  had  hitherto  been  passive  spectators  of  the  scene,  but  as 
the  intelligence  of  the  Pickwickians  being  informers  was  spread  among 
them,  they  began  to  canvass  with  considerable  vivacity  the  propriety  of 
enforcing  the  heated  pastry-vendor's  proposition  :  and  there  is  no  saying 
w'hat  acts  of  personal  aggression  they  might  ha^e  committed,  had  not 
the  affray  been  unexpectedly  terminated  by  the  interposition  of  a  new 
comer. 

*♦  What 's  the  fun  ?"  said  a  rather  tall  thin  young  man,  in  a  green 
coat,  emerging  suddenly  from  the  coach-yard. 

•'  Informers  !"  shouted  the  crowd  again. 

"We  are  not,"  roared  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  tone  which,  to  any  dis- 
passionate listener,  carried  conviction  with  it. 

"  Ain't  you,  though,— ain't  you  ?  "  said  the  young  man,  appeal- 
•"?n"u,  •  ^^^'^^■'^'^''  ^"d  making  his  way  through  the  crowd,  by  the 
intallible  process  of  elbowing  the  countenances  of  its  component 
members.  '^ 

That  learned  man  in  a  few  hurried  words  explained  the  real  state  of 
the  case. 

"  Come  along,  then,"  said  he  of  the  green  coat,  lugging  Mr   Pick- 
wick after  him  by  main  force,  and  talking  the  whole  way.     "  Here 
No  924,  take  your  fare,  and  take  yourself  off— respectable  gentleman,' 
—know  him  well— none   of  your  nonsense— this   way.  Sir— where  's 
your   fnends?- all     a   mistake,    I    see-never   mind— accidents    will 
bappen— best  regulated  families— never  say  die— down  upon  your  luck 
--pull    him    up-put    that    in    his    pipe— like    the    flavour— damned 
rascals.       And  with  a  lengthened  string  of  similar  broken  sentences 
delivered  with  extraordinary  volubility,  the  stranger  led  the  way  to  the 
travellers    waiting   room,   whither  he   was   closely   followed    bv    Mr 
Pickwick  and  his  disciples. 

"  Here,  waiter,"  shouted  the  stranger,  ringing  the  bell  with  tre- 
mendous violence,  -  glasses  round,— brandy  and  water,  hot  and  strong, 
and  sweet,  and  plenty,-eye  damaged.  Sir?  Waiter;  raw  beef-steak 
lor  the  gentleman  s  eye,— nothing  like  raw  beef-steak  for  a  bruise.  Sir  • 
cold  lamp.post  very  good,  but  lamp-post  inconvenient— damned  odd 
standing  m  the  open  street  half  an  hour,  with  your  eye  against  a  lamp- 
post-eh  -very  good-ha !  ha!"  And  the  stranger,  without  stopping 
to  take  breath,  swallowed  at  a  draught  full  half  a  pint  of  the  reekijil 
brandy  and  water,  and  flung  himself  into  a  chair  with  as  much  ease  as 
it  nothing  uncommon  had  occurred. 

While  his  three  companions  were  busily  engaged  in  nroffering  their 


^  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

thanks  to  tVieir  new  acquaintance,  Mr.  Pickwick  had  leisure  to  examine 
his  costume  and  a])i»eanmce. 

He  was  about  the  middle  height,  but  the  thinness  of  his  body,  and 
the  length  of  his  legs,  gave  him  the  appearance  of  being  much  taller. 
The  green  coat  had  been  a  smart  dress  garment  in  the  days  of  swallow- 
tails, but  had  evidently  in  those  times  adorned  a  much  shorter  man 
than  the  stranger,  for  the  soiled  and  faded  sleeves  scarcely  reached  to 
his  wrists.  It  was  buttoned  closely  up  to  his  chin,  at  the  imminent 
hazard  of  splitting  the  back  ;  and  an  old  stock,  without  a  vestige  of  shirt 
collar,  ornamented  his  neck.  His  scanty  black  trousers  displayed  here 
and  there  those  shiny  patches  which  bespeak  long  service,  and  were 
strapped  very  tightly  over  a  pair  of  patched  and  mended  shoes,  as  if  to 
conceal  the  dirty  white  stockings,  which  were  nevertheless  distinctly 
visible.  His  long  black  hair  escaped  in  negligent  waves  from  beneath 
each  side  of  his  old  pinched  up  hat ;  and  glimpses  of  his  bare  wrist 
might  be  observed,  between  the  tops  of  his  gloves,  and  the  cuffs  of  his 
coat  sleeves.  His  face  was  thin  and  haggard ;  but  an  indescribable  air 
of  jaunty   impudence  and  perfect   self-possession  pervaded  the  whole 

man.  ,  . 

Such  was  the  individual,  on  whom  JMr.  Pickwick  gazed  through  his 
spectacles  (which  he  had  fortunately  recovered),  and  to  whom  he  pro^ 
ceeded,  when  his  friends  had  exhausted  themselves,  to  return,  in  chosen 
terms,  his  warmest  thanks  for  his  recent  assistance. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  the  stranger,  cutting  the  address  very  short, 

it  said  enough, no  more  ;  smart  chap  that  cabman — handled  his  fives 

well;  but  if  I'd  been  your  friend  in  the  green  jemmy— damn  me— 
punch    his    head,— 'cod    I    would,— pig's    whisper— pieman    too,-no 

gammon."  - 

This  coherent  speech  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  ot  the 
Rochester  coachman,  to  announce  that  "  The  Commodore"  was  on  the 

point  of  starting. 

"  Commodore  1"  said  the  stranger,  starting  up,  "  my  coach,— place 
booked,— one  outside— leave  you  to  pay  for  the  brandy  and  water,— 
want  change  for  a  five,— bad  silver— Brummagem  buttons— won't  do— 
no  go— eh  ?"  and  he  shook  his  head  most  knowingly. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  three  companions  had 
resolved  to  make  Rochester  their  first  halting  place  too;  and  having 
intimated  to  their  new-found  acquaintance  that  they  were  journeying  to 
the  same  city,  they  agreed  to  occui)y  the  seat  at  the  back  ot  the 
coach,  where  they  could  all  sit  together.  ,,,,.,.,  ,     ,. 

"  Up  with  you,"  said  the  stranger,  assisting  Mr.  Pickwick  on  to  the 
roof  with  so  much  precipitation,  as  to  impair  the  gravity  of  that  gen- 
tleman's  deportment  very  materially. 

"  Any  lut,^gage.  Sir?"  inquired  the  coachman. 

"  Who— i  ?  Brown  paper  parcel  here,  that's  all,  other  luggage  gone  by 
,,.attr,-packing-cases,  nailed  up-big  as  houses-heavy,  heavy,  damned 
heavy  "  replied  the  stranger,  as  he  torced  into  his  pocket  as  much  as 
he  could  of  the  brown  paper  parcel,  which  presented  mo.t  suspicious 
indications  of  containing  one  s^iirt  and  a  handkerchief. 

"  Heads,  heads,    take  care    ^f  your   heads,"    cried    the    loquacious 


^f .  9. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  U 

stranger,  as  they  came  out  under  the  low  archway,  which  in  those  day  a 
formed  the  entrance  to  the  coach-yard.  "  Terrible  place — dangerous 
Mork — other  day — five  children  —  mother — taH  ladv;  eating;  sandwiches 
— forgot  the  arch — crash — knock — children  look  round — mother's 
head  off — sandwich  in  her  hand — no  mouth  to  put  it  in — head  of  a 
family  off — shocking,  shocking.  Looking  at  Whitehall,  Sir, — fine 
place — little  window — somebody  else's  head  off  there,  eh.  Sir? — he 
did'nt  keep  a  sharp  look-out  enough  either — eh,  sir,  eh  ?" 

"  I  was  ruminating,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  on  the  strange  mutability 
of  human  affairs." 

"  Ah  !  I  see — in  at  the  palace  door  one  day,  out  at  the  window  the 
next.     Philosopher,  Sir?  " 

"  An  observer  of  human  nature.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Ah,  so  am  I.  Most  people  are  when  they  've  little  to  do  and  less 
to  get.     Poet,  Sir  ?" 

*'  My  friend  Mr.  Snodgrass  has  a  strong  poetic  turn,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  So  have  I,"  said  the  stranger.  "  Epic  poem, — ten  thousand  lines 
— revolution  of  July — composed  it  on  the  spot — Mars  by  day,  Apollo 
by  night, — bang  the  field-piece,  twang  the  lyre." 

"  You  were  present  at  that  glorious  scene.  Sir  ?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

*' Present  I  think  I  was;  fired  a  musket, — fired  with  an  idea, — 
rushed  into  wine  shop — wrote  it  down — back  again — whiz,  bang — 
another  idea — wine  shop  again — pen  and  ink — back  again — cut  and 
slash — noble  time.  Sir.  Sportsman,  Sir?"  abruptly  turning  to  Mr. 
Winkle. 

"  A  little,  Sir,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

*'  Fine  pursuit,  Sir, — fine  pursuit. — Dogs,  sir?  " 

"Not  just  now,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Ah  !  you  should  keep  dogs — fine  animals — sagacious  creatures — 
dog  of  my  own  once — Pointer — surprising  instinct — out  shooting  one 
day — entering  inclosure — whistled — dog  stopped — whistled  again — 
Ponto — no  go  :  stock  still — called  him — Ponto,  Ponto — wouldn't  move 
— dog  transfixed — staring  at  a  board — looked  up,  saw  an  inscription — 
*  Gamekeeper  has  orders  to  shoot  all  dogs  found  in  th.is  inclosure' — • 
wouldn't  pass  it — wonderful  dog  —  valuable  dog  that — very." 

"  Singular  circumstance  that,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Will  you  allow 
me  to  make  a  note  of  it*  ?  " 

"Certainly,  Sir,  certainly — hundred  more  anecdotes  of  the  same 
animal. — Fine  girl.  Sir  "  (to  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  who  had  been  bestow- 
ing sundry  anti-Pickwickian  glances  on  a  young  lady  by  the  road  side). 

"  Very  I  "  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  English  girls  not  so  fine  as  Spanish — noble  creatures — ^jet  hair — 
black  eyes — lovely  forms — sweet  creatures — beautiful." 

"  You  have  been  in  Spain,  Sir?  "  said  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman. 

*  Although  we  find  this  circumstance  recorded  as  a  "singular"  one,  in  Mr. 
Pickwick's  note-book,  we  cannot  refrain  from  humbly  expressing  our  dissent  from 
that  learned  authority.  The  stranger's  anecdote  is  not  one  quarter  so  wonderful 
as  some  of  Mr.  Jesse's  "  Gleanings."  Ponto  sinks  into  utter  insignificance  before 
the  dogs  whose  actions  he  records.  —Ed. 

C  • 


10  POSTHUMOUS    PAPEKS    OF 

"  Lived  there — ages." 

"Many  conquests,  Sir?  "  inquired  Mr.  Tnpraan. 

"Conquests!  Thousands.  Don  Bola^ro  Fizzg^ig- — Grandee — only 
daughter — Donna  Christina — splendid  creature — loved  me  to  distraction 
— jealous  father — high-souled  daughter — handsome  Englishman  - 
Donna  Christina  in  despair — prussic  acid — stomach  pump  in  my  port- 
manteau— operation  performed — old  Bolaro  in  ecstacies — consent  to 
our  union — join  hands  and  floods  of  tears — romantic  story — very." 

"Is  the  lady  in  England  now,  Sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Tupraan,  on 
whom  the  description  of  her  charms  had  produced  a  powerful  impression. 

"  Dead,  Sir — dead,"  said  the  stranger,  applying  to  his  right  eye  the 
brief  remnant  of  a  very  old  cambric  handkerchief.  "Never  recovered 
the  stomach  pump — undermined  constitution — fell  a  victim." 

"  And  her  father  ?  "  inquired  the  poetic  Snodgrass. 

"  Remorse  and  misery,"  replied  the  stranger.  "  Sudden  disappear- 
ance— talk  of  the  whole  city  —  search  made  everywhere — without 
success — pubhc  fountain  in  the  great  square  suddenly  ceased  playing — 
weeks  elapsed — still  a  stoppage — workmen  employed  to  clean  it — water 
drawn  off — father-in-law  discovered  sticking  head  first  in  the  main  pipe, 
with  a  full  confession  in  his  right  boot — took  him  out,  and  the  foun- 
tain played  away  again,  as  well  as  ever." 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  note  that  little  romance  down,  Sir  ?"  said 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  deeply  affected. 

"  Certainly,  Sir,  certainly, — fifty  more  if  you  like  to  hear  'em — 
strange  life  mine — rather  curious  history — not  extraordinary,  but 
singular." 

In  this  strain,  with  an  occasional  glass  of  ale,  by  way  of  parenthesis, 
when  the  coach  changed  horses,  did  the  stranger  proceed,  until  they 
reached  Rochester  bridge,  by  which  time  the  note-books,  both  of  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  were  completely  filled  with  selections 
from  his  adventures. 

"  Magnificent  ruin  !  "  said  Mr.  Augustus  Snodgrass,  with  all  the 
poetic  fervour  that  distinguished  him,  when  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
fine  old  castle. 

"  What  a  study  for  an  antiquarian,"  were  the  very  words  which  fell 
from  Mr.  Pickwick's  mouth,  as  he  applied  his  telescope  to  his  eye. 

"  Ah  !  fine  place,"  said  the  stranger,  "  glorious  pile — frowning 
walls — tottering  arches — dark  nooks — crumbling  staircases — Old  cathe- 
dral too— earthy  smell — pilgrims  feet  worn  away  the  old  steps — little 
Saxon  doors — confessionals  like  money- takers'  boxes  at  theatres — queer 
customers  those  monks — Popes,  and  Lord  Treasurers,  and  all  sorts  of 
old  fellows,  with  great  red  faces,  and  broken  noses,  turning  up  every  day 
— ^buff  jerkins  too — matchlocks — Sarcophagus — fine  place — old  legends 
too — strange  stories :  capital ;"  and  the  stranger  continued  to  solilo- 
quize until  they  reached  the  Bull  Inn,  in  the  High  street,  where  the 
coach  stopped. 

"  Do  you  remain  here.  Sir  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Nathaniel  Winkle. 

"Here — not  I — but  you'd  better — good  house — nice  beds — Wright's 
next  house,  dear — very  dear — half-a-crown  in  the  bill,  if  you  look  at 
the  waiter — charge  you  more  if  you  dine  at  a  friend's  thstt*^they  would 
if  you  dined  in  the  coffee-room — r.um  fellows—  very.*' 


THE    IMCKWICK    CLUB.  11 

Mr.  \V inkle  turned  to  iMr.  Pickwick,  and  muramred  a  low  .»or(].s;  a 
whisper  passed  from  Mr.  Pickwick  to  Mr.  Snodg^rass,  from  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  to  Mr.  Tupman.  and  nods  of  assent  were  exchanged.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick addressed  the  stranger. 

"  You  rendered  us  a  very  important  service,  this  morning,  Sir,"  said 
he ;  "  will  you  allow  us  to  offer  a  slight  mark  of  our  gratitude  by  begging 
the  favour  of  your  company  at  dinner  ?  " 

**  Great  pleasure — not  presume  to  dictate,  but  broiled  fowl  and 
mushrooms — capital  thing  !   What  time  ?  " 

*'  liet  me  see,  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  referring  to  his  watch,  "  it  is 
now  nearly  three.     Shall  we  say  five  ?  " 

"  Suit  me  excellently,"  said  the  stranger,  *'  five  precisely — till  then — 
care  of  yourselves  ;"  and  lifting  the  pinched  up  hat  a  few  inches  from 
his  head,  and  carelessly  replacing  it  very  much  on  one  side,  the  stranger, 
with  half  the  brown  paper  parcel  sticking  out  of  his  pocket,  walked 
briskly  up  the  yard,  and  turned  into  tlie  high  street. 

**  Evidently  a  traveller  in  many  countries,  and  a  close  observer  ei 
men  and  things,"  said  Mr,  Pickwick. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  his  poem,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  seen  that  dog,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

Mr.  Tupman  said  nothing  ;  but  he  thought  of  Donna  Christina,  the 
stomach  pump,  and  the  fountain ;  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

A  private  sitting-room  having  been  engaged,  bed-rooms  inspected, 
and  dinner  ordered,  the  party  walked  out  to  view  the  city,  and  adjoining 
neighbourhood. 

We  do  not  find,  from  a  careful  perusal  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  notes  on 
the  four  towns,  Stroud,  Rochester,  Chatham,  and  Brompton,  that  his 
impressions  of  their  appearance  differ  in  any  material  point,  from  those 
of  other  travellers  who  have  gone  over  the  same  ground.  His  general 
description  is  easily  abridged. 

"The  principal  productions  of  these  towns,"  says  Mr.  Pickwick, 
"  appear  to  be  soldiers,  sailors,  Jews,  chalk,  shrimps,  officers,  and  dock- 
yard men.  The  commodities  chiefly  exposed  for  sale  in  the  public 
streets,  are  marine  stores,  hard-bake,  apples,  flat-fish,  and  oysters.  The 
streets  present  a  lively  and  animated  appearance,  occasioned  chiefly  by 
the  conviviality  of  the  military.  It  is  truly  delightful  to  a  philanthropic 
mind,  to  see  these  gallant  men,  staggering  along  under  the  influence  of 
an  overflow,  both  of  animal,  and  ardent  spirits  ;  more  especially  when 
we  remember  that  the  following  them  about,  and  jesting  with  them, 
affords  a  cheap  and  innocent  amusement  for  the  boy  population.  Nothing 
(adds  Mr.  Pickwick)  can  exceed  their  good  humour.  It  was  but  the 
day  before  my  arrival,  that  one  of  them  had  been  most  grossly  insulted 
in  the  house  of  a  publican.  The  bar- maid  had  positively  refused  to 
draw  him  any  more  liquor ;  in  return  for  which,  he  had  (merely  in 
playfulness)  drawn  his  bayonet,  and  wounded  the  girl  in  the  shoulder. 
And  yet  this  fine  fellow  was  the  very  first  to  go  down  to  the  house 
next  morning,  and  express  his  readiness  to  overlook  the  matter,  and 
forget  what  had  occurred ! 

**  The  consumption  of  tobacco  in  these  towns  (continues  Mr.  Pick- 
wick) must  be  very  ^reat:  and   the  smell  which  pervades   the  streets 


x^ 


12 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


must  be  exceedingly  delicious  to  those  who  are  extremely  fond  of 
smoking-.  A  superficial  traveller  might  object  to  the  dirt  which  is 
their  leading  characteristic  ;  but  to  those  who  view  it  as  an  indication 
of  traffic,  and  commercial  prosperity,  it  is  truly  gratifying." 

Punctual  to  five  o'clock,  came  the  stranger,  and  shortly  afterwards 
the  dinner.  He  had  divested  himself  of  his  brown  paper  parcel,  but 
had  made  no  alteration  in  his  attire ;  and  was,  if  possible,  more  loqua- 
cious than  ever. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  he  inquired,  as  the  waiter  removed  one  of  the 
covers. 

"  Soles,  Sir/' 

"  Soles — ah  ! — capital  fish — all  come  from  London — stage-coach 
proprietors  get  up  political  dinners — carriage  of  soles — dozens  of  baskets 
— cunning  fellows.     Glass  of  w^ne,  Sir  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick — and  the  stranger  took  wine ; 
first  with  him,  and  then  with  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  then  with  Mr. 
Tupman,  and  then  with  Mr.  Winkle,  and  then  with  the  whole  party 
together,  almost  as  rapidly  as  he  talked. 

"  Devil  of  a  mess  on  the  staircase,  waiter,"  said  the  stranger,  "  Forms 
going  up — carpenters  coming  down — lamps,  glasses,  harps.  What's 
going  forward." 

"  Ball,  Sir,"  said  the  waiter. 

"  Assembly— eh?" 

"  No,  Sir,  not  Assembly,  Sir.   Ball  for  the  benefit  of  a  charity,  Sir." 

"  Many  fine  women  in  this  town,  do  you  know,  Sir  ?"  inquired  Mr. 
Tupman,  with  great  interest. 

"  Splendid — capital.  Kent,  Sir — Every  body  knows  Kent — apples, 
cherries,  hops,  and  women.     Glass  of  wine,  Sir?" 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman.  The  stranger  filled, 
and  emptied. 

"  I  should  very  much  like  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  resuming  the 
subject  of  the  ball,  "  very  much." 

*'  Tickets  at  the  bar,  Sir,"  interposed  the  waiter,  "half-a-guinea 
each.  Sir." 

Mr.  Tupman  again  expressed  an  earnest  wish  to  be  present  at  the 
festivity  ;  but  meeting  with  no  response  in  the  darkened  eye  of  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  or  the  abstracted  gaze  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  applied  himself 
with  great  interest  to  the  port  wine  and  dessert  which  had  just  been 
placed  on  the  table.  The  waiter  withdrew,  and  the  party  were  left  to 
enjoy  the  cosy  «ouple  of  hours  succeeding  dinner. 

"  Beg  your  pardon.  Sir,"  said  the  stranger,  "  Bottle  stands — pass  it 
round — way  of  the  sun — through  the  button  hole— no  heeltaps,"  and 
he  emptied  his  glass,  which  he  had  filled  about  two  minutes  before ;  and 
poured  out  another,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  was  used  to  it. 

The  wine  was  passed,  and  a  fresh  supply  ordered.  The  visitor 
talked,  the  Pickwickians  listened.  Mr.  Tupman  felt  every  moment 
more  disposed  for  the  ball.  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance  glowed  with 
an  expression  of  universal  philanthropy  ;  and  Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  fell  fast  asleep. 

"  Thoy're  beginning  up  stairs,"  said  the  stranger — "  hear  the  com 


THK    PICKWICK    CI.UB.  I3 

paiiy — fiddles  tuning — now  the  harp — there  they  go."  The  various 
sounds  which  found  their  way  down  stairs,  announced  the  commence- 
ment of  the  first  quadrille. 

"  How  I  should  like  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  again. 

"  So  should  I,"  said  the  stranger, — "  confounded  luggage — heavy 
smacks — nothini;-  to  go  in — odd,  an't  it  ?  " 

Now  general  benevolence  was  one  of  the  leading  features  of  the 
Pickwickian  theory,  and  no  one  was  more  remarkable  for  the  zealous 
manner  in  which  he  observed  so  noble  a  principle,  than  Mr.  Tracy 
Tupman.  The  number  of  instances,  recorded  on  the  transactions  of 
the  Society,  in  which  that  excellent  man  referred  objects  of  charity  to 
the  houses  of  other  members  for  left-off  garments,  or  pecuniary  relief, 
is  almost  incredible. 

"  I  should  be  very  happy  to  lend  you  a  change  of  apparel  for  the  pur- 
pose," said  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  "  but  you  are  rather  slim,  and  I  am — " 

"  Rather  fat — grown  up  Bacchus — cut  the  leaves — dismounted  from 
the  tub,  and  adopted  kersey,  eh  ? — not  double  distilled,  but  double 
milled — ha  !  ha  I — pass  the  wine." 

Whether  Mr.  Tupman  was  somewhat  indignant  at  the  peremptory 
tone  in  which  he  was  desired  to  pass  the  wine  which  the  stranger  passed 
so  quickly  away ;  or  whether  he  felt  very  properly  scandalized,  at  an 
influential  member  of  the  Pickwick  club  being  ignominously  compared 
to  a  dismounted  Bacchus,  is  a  fact  not  yet  completely  ascertained.  He 
passed  the  wine,  coughed  twice,  and  looked  at  the  stranger  for  several 
seconds  with  a  stern  intensity  ;  as  that  individual,  however,  appeared 
perfectly  collected,  and  quite  calm  under  his  searching  glance,  he  gra- 
dually relaxed,  and  reverted  to  the  subject  of  the  ball. 

"  I  was  about  to  observe,  Sir,"  he  said,  "  that  though  my  apparel 
would  be  too  large,  a  suit  of  my  friend  Mr.  Winkle's  would,  perhaps,  fit 
vou  better." 

The  stranger  took  Mr.  Winkle's  measure  with  his  eye  ;  and  that 
feature  glistened  with  satisfaction  as  he  said — •'  Just  the  thing  !  " 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  roun.l  him.  The  wine  which  had  exerted  its 
somniferous  influence  over  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  Mr.  Winkle,  had  stolen 
upon  the  senses  of  Mr.  Pickwick.  That  gentleman  had  gradually 
passed  through  the  various  stages  which  precede  the  lethargy  pro- 
duced by  dinner,  and  its  consequences.  He  had  undergone  the  ordi- 
nary transitions  from  the  height  of  conviviality,  to  the  depth  of  misery, 
and  from  the  depth  of  misery,  to  the  height  of  conviviality.  Like  a 
gas  lamp  in  the  street,  with  the  wind  in  the  pipe,  he  had  exhibited  for 
a  moment  an  unnatural  brilliancy  :  then  sunk  so  low  as  to  be  scarcely 
discernible  :  after  a  short  interval,  he  had  burst  out  again,  to  enlighten 
for  a  moment,  then  flickered  with  an  uncertain,  staggering  sort  of 
light,  and  then  gone  out  altogether.  His  head  was  sunk  upon  his  bosom  ; 
and  perpetual  snoring,  with  a  partial  choke,  occasionally,  were  the  only 
audible  indications  of  the  great  man's  presence. 

The  temptation  to  be  present  at  the  ball,  and  to  form  his  first  impres- 
sions of  the  beauty  of  the  Kentish  ladies,  was  strong  upon  Mr.  Tup- 
man. The  temptation  to  take  the  stranger  with  him,  was  equally  great. 
Hfj  was  wholly  unacquainted  with    the  place,  and  its  inhabitants  ;  and 


1 4  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

the  stranger  seemed  to  possess  as  great  a  knowledge  of  both,  as  if  ha 
had  lived  there  from  his  infancy.  Mr.  Winkle  was  asleep,  and  Mr 
Tupman  had  had  sufficient  experience  in  such  matters  to  know,  that 
the  moment  he  awoke,  he  would,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  roll 
neavily  to  bed.  He  was  undecided.  "  Fill  your  glass,  and  pass  the 
wine,"  said  the  indefatigable  visitor. 

Mr.  Tupman  did  as  he  was  requested ;  and  the  additional  stimulus  of 
the  last  glass  settled  his  determination." 

"  Winkle's  bed-room  is  inside  mine,"  said  Mr.  Tupman ;  "  I  couldn't 
make  him  understand  what  I  wanted,  if  I  woke  him  now,  but  I  know 
he  has  a  dress  suit,  in  a  carpet  bag ;  and  supposing  you  wore  it  to  the 
ball,  and  took  it  off  when  we  returned,  I  could  replace  it  without 
troubling-  him  at  all  about  the  matter." 

"  Capital,"  said  the  stranger,  "famous  plan — damned  odd  situation — 
fourteen  coats  in  the  packing  cases,  and  obliged  to  wear  another  man's — 
very  good  notion,  that — very." 

"  We  must  purchase  our  tickets,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

'*  Not  worth  while  splitting  a  guinea,"  said  the  stranger,  "  toss  who 
shall  pay  for  both — I  call ;  you  spin — first  time — woman — woman — 
bewitching  woman,"  and  down  came  the  sovereign,  with  the  Dragon 
(called  by  courtesy  a  woman)  uppermost. 

Mr.  Tupman  rang  the  bell,  purchased  the  tickets,  and  ordered  cham^ 
ber-candlesticks.  In  another  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  stranger  was  com- 
pletely arrayed  in  a  full  suit  of  Mr.  Nathaniel  Winkle's. 

"  It's  a  new  coat,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  as  the  stranger  surveyed  him- 
self with  great  complacency  in  a  cheval  glass.  "  The  first  that's  been 
made  with  our  club  button," — and  he  called  his  companion's  attention 
to  the  large  gilt  button  which  displayed  a  bust  of  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the 
centre,  and  the  letters  "  P.  C."  on  either  side. 

"  P.  C."  said  the  stranger, — "  Queer  set  out — old  fellow's  likeness, 
and  '  P.  C— What  does  P.  C.  stand  for— Peculiar  Coat,  eh?"  Mr. 
Tupman,  with  rising  indignation,  and  great  importance,  explained  the 
mystic  device. 

"  Rather  short  in  the  waist,  a'nt  it  ?"  said  the  stranger,  screwing 
himself  round,  to  catch  a  glimpse  in  the  glass  of  the  waist  buttons  which 
were  halfway  up  his  back.  ''  Like  a  general  postman's  coat — queer  couts 
those — made  by  contract — no  measuring — mysterious  dispensations 
of  Providence — all  the  short  men  get  long  coats — all  the  long  men 
short  ones."  Running  on  in  this  way,  Mr.  Tupman's  new  companion 
adjusted  his  dress,  or  rather  the  dress  of  Mr.  Winkle ;  and,  accompanied 
by  Mr.  Tupman,  ascended  the  staircase  leading  to  the  ball  room. 

"W'hat  names.  Sir?  "  said  the  man  at  the  door.  Mr.  Tracy  Tup- 
man was  stepping  forward  to  announce  his  own  titles,  when  the  stranger 
prevented  him. 

"  No  names  at  all," — and  then  he  whispered  Mr.  Tupman,  "  Names 
wo'nt  do — not  known — very  good  names  in  their  way,  but  not  great 
ones — capital  names  far  a  small  party,  but  won't  make  an  impression  in 
public  assemblies — incog-,  the  thing — Gentlemen  from  London — dis- 
tinguished foreigners — anything."  The  door  was  thrown  open  ;  and 
Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  and  the  stranger,  entered  the  ball  room. 


THE    IMCKWICK    CLUB.  15 

It  w&H  a  long-  room,  with  crimson-covered  benches,  and  wax  candles 
in  glass  chandeliers.  The  musicians  were  securely  confined  in  an 
elevated  den,  and  quadrilles  were  being  systematically  got  through  by 
two  or  three  sets  of  dancers.  Two  card-tables  were  made  up  in  the 
adjoining  card-room,  and  two  pair  of  old  ladies,  and  a  corresponding 
number  of  stout  gentlemen,  were  executing  whist  therein. 

The  finale  concluded,  the  dancers  promenaded  the  room,  and  Mr. 
Tupman  and  his  companion  stationed  themselves  in  a  corner,  to  observe 
the  company. 

*'  Charming  women,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  said  the  stranger,  "  fun  presently — nobs  not  come 
yet — queer  place — Dock-yard  people  of  upper  rank  don't  know  Dock- 
yard people  of  lower  rank — Dock-yard  people  of  lower  rank  don't  know 
small  gentry — small  gentry  don't  kjiow  tradespeople — Commissioner 
don't  know  anybody." 

"  Who's  that  little  boy  with  the  light  hair  and  pink  eyes,  in  a  fancy 
dress  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

"Hush,  pray — pink  eyes — fancy  dress — little  boy — nonsense — Ensign 
97th. — Honourable  Wilmot  Snipe — great  family — Snipes — very." 

"  Sir  Thomas  Clubber,  Lady  Clubber,  and  the  Miss  Clubbers  !  ' 
shouted  the  man  at  the  door  in  a  stentorian  voice.  A  great  sensation 
was  created  throughout  the  room,  by  the  entrance  of  a  tall  gentleman 
in  a  blue  coat  and  bright  buttons,  a  large  lady  in  blue  satin,  and  two 
young  ladies  on  a  similar  scale,  in  fashionably-made  dresses  of  the 
same  hue. 

**  Commissioner — head  of  the  yard — great  man — remarkably  great 
man,"  whispered  the  stranger  in  Mr.  Tupman's  ear,  as  the  charitable 
committee  ushered  Sir  Thomas  Clubber  and  family  to  the  top  of  fhe 
room.  The  Honourable  Wilmot  Snipe,  and  other  distinguished  gen- 
tlemen crowded  to  render  homage  to  the  Miss  Clubbers;  and  Sir 
Thomas  Clubber  stood  bolt  upright,  and  looked  majestically  over  his 
black  neckerchief  at  the  assembled  company. 

"  Mr.  Smithie,  Mrs.  Smithie,  and  the  Misses  Smithie,"  was  the  next 
announcement. 

♦*  What's  Mr.  Smithie,"  inquired  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman. 

**  Something  in  the  yard,"  replied  the  stranger.  Mr.  Smithie  bowed 
deferentially  to  Sir  Thomas  Clubber ;  and  Sir  Thomas  Clubber  acknow- 
ledged the  salute  with  conscious  condescension.  Lady  Clubber  took  a 
telescope  view  of  Mrs.  Smithie  and  family,  through  her  eye-glass,  and 
Mrs.  Smithie,  stared  inherturn,  at  Mrs.  Somebody  else,  whose  husband 
was  not  in  the  dock-yard  at  all. 

"  Colonel  Bulder,  Mrs.  Colonel  Bulder,  and  Miss  Bulder,"  were  the 
next -arrivals. 

"  Head  of  the  garrison,"  said  the  stranger,  in  reply  to  Mr.  Tup- 
man's  inquiring  look. 

Miss  Balder  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the  Miss  Clubbers  ;  the  greet- 
ing between  Mrs.  Colonel  Bulder,  and  Lady  Clubber,  was  of  the  most 
affectionate  description  ;  Colonel  Bulder  and  Sir  Thomas  Clubber  ex- 
changed snuff-boxes,  and  looked  very  much  like  a  pair  of  Alexander 
Selkirks  ; — "  Monarchs  of  all  they  surveyed." 


16  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

While  the  aristocracy  of  the  place — the  Bulders,  and  Clubbers,  and 
Snipes — were  thus  preserving-  their  dignity  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
room,  the  other  classes  of  society  were  imitating-  their  example  in  other 
parts  of  it.  The  less  aristocratic  officers  of  the  97th  devoted  them- 
selves to  the  families  of  the  less  important  functionaries  from  the  dock- 
yard. The  solicitors'  wives,  and  the  wine  merchant's  wife,  headed  another 
grade,  (the  brewer's  wife  visited  the  Bulders;)  and  Mrs.  Tomlinson,  the 
post-office  keeper,  seemed  by  mutual  consent  to  have  been  chosen  the 
leader  of  the  trade  party. 

One  of  the  most  popular  personages,  in  his  own  circle,  present,  was  a 
little  fat  man,  with  a  ring  of  upright  black  hair  round  his  head,  and  an 
extensive  bald  plain  on  the  top  of  it — Doctor  Slammer,  surg-eon  to  the 
97th.  The  Doctor  took  snuff  with  every  body,  chatted  with  every 
body,  laughed,  danced,  made  jokes,  played  whist,  did  everything-,  and 
was  everywhere.  To  these  pursuits,  multifarious  as  they  were,  the 
little  Doctor  added  a  more  important  one  than  any — he  was  indefatiga- 
ble in  paying  the  most  unremitting  and  devoted  attention  to  a  little  old 
widow,  whose  rich  dress  and  profusion  of  ornament  bespoke  her  a  most 
desirable  addition  to  a  limited  income. 

Upon  the  doctor,  and  the  widow,  the  eyes  both  of  Mr.  Tupman  and 
his  companion  had  been  fixed  for  some  time,  when  the  stranger  broke 
silence. 

"  Lots  of  money— old  girl' — pompous  doctor — not  a  bad  idea — 
good  fun,"  were  the  intelligible  sentences  which  issued  from  his  lips. 
Mr.  Tupman  looked  inquisitively  in  his  face. 

"  rU  dance  with  the  v»'idow,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Who  is  she?  "  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

*'  Don't  know — never  saw  her  in  all  my  life — cut  out  the  doctor — 
here  goes."  And  the  stranger  forthwith  crossed  the  room  ;  and,  leaning 
against  a  mantel-piece,  commenced  gazing  with  an  air  of  respectful  and 
melancholy  admiration  on  the  fat  countenance  of  the  little  old  lady. 
Mr.  Tupman  looked  on,  in  mute  astonishment.  The  stranger  pro- 
gressed rapidly  ;  the  little  doctor  danced  with  another  lady— the  widow 
dropped  her  fan  ;  the  stranger  picked  it  up,  and  presented  it, — a  smile — 
a  bow — a  curtsey — a  fev/  words  of  conversation.  The  stranger  walked 
boldly  up  to,  and  returned  with,  the  master  of  the  ceremonies  ;  a  little 
introductory  pantomime ;  and  the  stranger  and  Mrs.  Budger  took  their 
places  in  a  quadrille. 

The  surprise  of  Mr.  Tupman  at  this  summary  proceeding,  great  as 
it  was,  was  immeasurably  exceeded  by  the  astonishment  of  the  doctor. 
The  stranger  was  young,  and  the  widow  was  flattered.  The  doctor's 
attentions  were  unheeded'  by  the  widow  ;  and  the  doctor's  indignation 
was  wholly  lost  on  his  imperturbable  rival.  Doctor  Slammer  was 
paralyzed.  He,  Doctor  Slammer  of  the  97th,  to  be  extinguished  in  a 
moment,  by  a  man  whom  nobody  had  ever  seen  before,  and  whom  no- 
body knew  even  now  !  Doctor  Slammer — Doctor  Slammer  of  the  97th 
rejected  !  Impossible  !  It  could  not  be  !  Yes,  it  was  ;  there  they 
were.  What!  introducing  his  friend!  Could  he  believe  his  eyes! 
He  looked  again,  and  was  under  the  painful  necessity  of  admitting  the 
veracity  of   his   optics  ;    Mrs.  Budger  was  dancing  with    Mr,   Tracy 


I 


i 


I 


I A 


...  f^ 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


17 


riipman  ;  there  was  no  mistaking:  tlie  fact.  There  was  the  widow 
before  him,  bouncing:  l)0(lily,  here  and  thore,  with  unwonted  vigour; 
and  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  hopping  abont,  with  a  face  expressive  of  the 
most  intense  soh'mnity,  dancing  (as  a  good  many  jieople  do)  as  if  a 
quadrille  were  not  a  thing  to  be  laughed  at,  but  a  severe  trial  to  the 
feelings,  which  it  requires  inflexible  resolution  to  encounter. 

Silently  and  patiently  did  the  doctor  bear  all  this,  and  all  the  handings 
of  negus,  and  watching  for  glasses,  and  darting  for  biscuits,  and 
coquetting,  that  ensued  ;  but,  a  few  seconds  after  the  stranger  had 
disappeared  to  lead  Mrs.  Budger  to  her  carriage,  he  darted  swiftly  from 
the  room  with  every  particle  of  his  hitherto-bottled-up  indignation 
effervescing,  from  all  parts  of  his  countenance,  in  a  perspiration  of 
passion. 

The  stranger  was  returning,  and  Mr.  Tupman  was  beside  him.  He 
spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  laughed.  The  little  doctor  thirsted  for  his 
life.     He  was  exulting.     He  had  triumphed. 

"  Sir !"  said  the  doctor,  in  an  awful  voice,  producing  a  card,  and 
retiring  into  an  angle  of  the  passage  "  my  name  is  Slammer,  Doctor 
Slammer,  Sir — 97th  regiment  — Chatham  Barracks— my  card,  Sir,  my 
card."     He  would  have  added  more,  but  his  indignation  choaked  him. 

"  Ah  !  "  replied  the  stranger,  coolly,  "  Slammer — much  obliged — ' 
polite  attention — not  ill  now,  Slammer — but  when  I  am-^knock  you 

up" 

"  Yon — you're  a  shuffler.  Sir,"  gasped  the  furious  doctor,  "a  poltroon 
— a  coward — a  liar — a — a — will  nothing  induce  you  to  give  me  your 
card,  Sir.' 

"  Oh !  I  see,"  said  the  stranger,  half  aside,  "  negus  too  strong  here — 
liberal  landlord — very  foolish — very — lemonade  much  better — hot 
rooms — elderly  gentlemen — suffer  for  it  in  the  morning — cruel— - 
cruel ;  "  and  he  moved  on  a  step  or  two. 

"  You  are  stopping  in  this  house.  Sir,"  said  the  indignant  little  man  ; 
*'you  are  intoxicated  now,  Sir ;  you  shall  hear  from  me  in  the  morn- 
ing, Sir.     I  shall  find  you  out.  Sir;  I  shall  find  you  out." 

"  Rather  you  found  me  out,  than  found  me  at  home,"  replied  the 
unmoved  stranger. 

Doctor  Slammer  looked  unutterable  ferocity,  as  he  fixed  his  hat  on 
his  head  with  an  indignant  knock  :  and  the  stranger  and  Mr.  Tupman 
ascended  to  the  bed-room  of  the  latter  to  restore  the  borrowed  plumage 
to  the  unconscious  Winkle. 

That  gentleman  was  fast  asleep  ;  the  restoration  was  soon  made 
The  stranger  was  extremely  jocose;  and  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  being 
quite  bewildered  with  wine,  negus,  lights,  and  ladies,  thought  the  whole, 
affair  an  exquisite  joke.  His  new  friend  departed ;  and,  after  expe- 
riencing some  slight  difficulty  in  finding  the  orifice  in  his  night-cap, 
originally  intended  for  the  reception  of  his  head,  and  finally  overturning 
his  candlestick  in  his  struggles  to  put  it  on,  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  managed 
to  get  into  bed,  by  a  series  of  complicated  evolutions,  and  shortly 
afterwards  sank  into  repose. 

Seven  o'clock  had  hardly  ceased  striking  on  the  following  morning., 
when  Mr,  Pickwick's  comprehensive  mind  was  aroused  from  the  8tat<i 

D 


18  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    Or 

of  unconsciousness,  in  which  slumber  had  plunged  it,  by  a  ouu  knocking 
at  his  chamber  door. 

"  Who's  there?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  starting  up  in  bed. 

"  Boots,  sir." 

*'  What  do  you  want  ?" 

"  Please  sir.,  can  you  tell  me,  which  gentleman  of  your  party  wears  a 
bright  blue  dress  coat,  with  a  gilt  button  with  p.  c.  on  it  ?" 

"  It's  been  given  out  to  brush,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  the 
man  has  forgotten  whom  it  belongs  to — "  Mr.  Winkle,"  he  called  out, 
"  next  room  but  two,  on  the  rjght  hand." 

"  Thank'ee,  sir,"  said  the  Boots,  and  away  he  went. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  cried  Mr.  Tupman,  as  a  loud  knocking  at 
his  door  roused  him  from  his  oblivious  repose. 

"Can  I  speak  to  Mr.  Winkle,  sir?"  replied  the  Boots,  from  the 
outside. 

"  Winkle — Winkle,"  shouted  D^r.  Tupman,  calling  into  the  inner 
room. 

"  Hallo  I"  replied  a  faint  voice  from  within  the  bed-clothes. 

"  You're  wanted — some  one  at  the  door — "  and  having  exerted 
himself  to  articulate  thus  much,  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  turned  round 
and  fell  fast  asleep  again. 

"  Wanted  I "  said  Mr.  Wrinkle,  hastily  jumping  out  of  bed,  and  putting 
on  a  few  articles  of  clothing :  "  wanted  !  at  this  distance  from  town — 
who  on  earth  can  want  me  !" 

"  Gentleman  in  the  coffee  room,  sir,'*  replied  the  Boots,  as  Mr. 
Winkle  opened  the  door,  and  confronted  him  ;  "  gentleman  says  he'll 
not  detain  you  a  moment,  sir,  but  he  can  take  no  denial." 

"  Very  odd !"  said  Mr.  Winkle ;  "  I'll  be  down  directly." 

He  hurriedly  wrapped  himself  in  a  travelling-shawl,  and  dressing- 
gown,  and  proceeded  down  stairs.  An  old  woman  and  a  couple  of 
waiters  were  cleaning  the  coffee  room,  and  an  officer  in  undress 
uniform  was  looking  out  of  the  window.  He  turned  round  as  Mr. 
Winkle  entered,  and  made  a  stiff  inclination  of  the  head.  Having 
ordered  the  attendants  to  retire,  and  closed  the  door  very  carefully,  he 
said,  "  Mr.  Winkle,  I  presume?" 

"  My  name  is  Winkle,  sir." 

"  You  will  not  be  surprised,  sir,  when  I  inform  yon,  that  I  have  called 
here  thij-  morning  on  behalf  of  my  friend.  Dr.  Slammer,  of  the  Ninety- 
seventh." 

"  Doctor  Slammer !"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Doctor  Slammer.  He  begged  me  to  express  his  opinion  that  your 
conduct  of  last  evening  was  of  a  description  which  no  gentleman  could 
endure :  and  (he  added)  which  no  one  gentleman  would  pursue  towards 
another." 

Mr.  Winkle's  astonishment  was  too  real,  and  too  evident,  to  escape 
the  observation  of  Doctor  Slammer's  friend  ;  he  therefore  proceeded. — 
"  My  friend.  Doctor  Slammer,  requested  me  to  add,  that  he  is  firmly 
persuaded  you  were  intoxicated  during  a  portion  of  the  evening,  and 
possibly  unconscious  of  the  extent  of  the  insult  you  were  guilty  of. 
He  commissioned  me  to  sav,  that  should  this  be  pleaded  as  an  excuse 


THE    riCKWICK    CLUB.  1-) 

for  your  bthavionr,  he  will  consent  to  accept  a  written  apology,  to  be 
penned  by  you,  from  my  dictation." 

"  A  written  apology  I"  repeated  Mr.  Winkle,  in  the  most  emphatic 
tone  of  amazement  possible. 

"  Of  course  you  know  the  alternative,"  replied  the  visiter,  coolly. 

"  Were  you  entrusted  with  this  message  to  me,  by  name?"  inquired 
Mr.  Wrinkle,  whose  intellects  were  hopelessly  confused  by  this  extra- 
ordinary conversation. 

*•  I  was  not  present  myself,"  replied  the  visiter,  "  and  in  consequence 
of  your  firm  refusal  to  give  your  card  to  Doctor  Slammer,  I  was  desired 
by  that  gentleman  to  identify  the  wearer  of  a  very  uncommon  coat — a 
bright  blue  dress  coat,  with  a  gilt  button,  displaying  a  bust,  and  the 
letters  '  p.  c'  " 

Mr.  Winkle  actually  staggered  with  astonishment,  as  he  heard  his 
own  costume  thus  minutely  described.  Doctor  Slammer's  friend 
proceeded : — 

"  From  the  inquiries  I  made  at  the  bar,  just  now,  I  was  convinced 
that  the  owner  of  the  coat  in  question  arrived  here,  with  three  gentle- 
men, yesterday  afternoon.  I  immediately  sent  up  to  the  gentleman 
who  was  described  as  appearing  the  head  of  the  party  ;  and  he,  at  once, 
referred  me  to  you." 

If  the  princij)al  tower  of  Rochester  Castle  had  suddenly  walked  from 
its  foundation,  and  stationed  itself  oj)posite  the  coffee-room  window, 
Mr.  Winkle's  surprise  would  have  been  as  nothing,  compared  with  the 
profound  astonishment  with  which  he  had  heard  this  address.  His 
first  impression  was,  that  his  coat  had  been  stolen.  "  W^ill  you  allow 
me  to  detain  you  one  moment  ?"  said  he. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  unwelcome  visiter. 

Mr.  Winkle  ran  hastily  up-stairs,  and  with  a  trembling  hand  opened 
the  bag.  There  was  the  coat  in  its  usual  place,  but  exhibiting,  on  a 
close  inspection,  evident  tokens  of  having  been  worn  on  the  preceding 
night. 

"  It  must  be  so,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  letting  the  coat  fall  from  his  hands. 
**  I  took  too  much  wine  after  dinner,  and  have  a  very  vague  recollection 
of  walking  about  the  streets,  and  smoking  a  cigar,  afterwards.  The 
fact  is,  I  was  very  drunk  ; — I  must  have  changed  my  coat — gone  some- 
where— and  insulted  somebody — I  have  no  doubt  of  it  ;  and  this  mes- 
sage is  the  terrible  consequence."  Saying  which,  Mr.  Winkle  retraced 
his  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  coffee-room,  with  the  gloomy  and 
dreadful  resolve  of  accepting  the  challenge  of  the  warlike  Doctor 
Slammer,  and  abiding  by  the  worst  consequences  that  might  ensue. 

To  tliis  determination  Mr.  Winkle  was  urged  by  a  variety  of  consi- 
derations ;  the  tirst  of  which  was,  his  reputation  with  the  club.  He  had 
always  been  looked  up  to  as  a  high  authority  on  all  matters  of  amuse- 
ment and  dexterity,  whether  offensive,  defensive,  or  inoffensive  ;  and  if, 
on  this  very  first  occasion  of  being  put  to  the  test,  he  shrunk  back  from 
the  trial,  beneath  his  leader's  eye,  his  name  and  standing  were  lost  for 
ever.  Besides,  he  remembered  to  have  heard  it  frequently  surmised  by 
the  uninitiated  in  such  matters,  that  by  an  understood  arrangement 
oetween  the  seconds,  the  pistols  were  seldom  loaded  with  ball ;  and, 


20 


POSTflUMOUs    PAPERS    OF 


furthermore,  he  reflected  that  if  he  applied  to  Mr.  Snodgrass  to  act  as 
his  second,  and  depicted  the  danger  in  glowing  terms,  that  gentleman 
might  possibly  communicate  the  intelligence  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  who 
would  certainly  lose  no  time  in  transmitting  it  to  the  local  authorities, 
and  thus  prevent  the  killing  or  maiming  of  his  follower. 

Such  were  his  thoughts  when  he  returned  to  the  coffee-room,  and 
intimated  his  intention  of  accepting  the  Doctor's  challenge. 

"  Will  you  refer  me  to  a  fi-iend,  to  arrange  the  time  and  place  of 
meeting  ?  "  said  the  officer. 

<*  Quite  unnecessary,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle ;  "  name  them  to  me,  and 
I  can  procure  the  attendance  of  a  friend,  afterwards." 

"Shall  we  say — sunset  this  evening?"  inquired  the  officer,  in  a 
careless  tone. 

"  Very  good,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle ;  thinking  in  his  heart  it  was  very 
bad. 

*•  You  know  Fort  Pitt?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  saw  it  yesterday." 

*'  If  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  turn  into  the  field  which  borders  the 
trench,  take  the  foot-path  to  the  left,  when  you  arrive  at  an  angle  of 
the  fortification;  and  keep  straight  on  'till  you  see  me  ;  I  will  precede 
you  to  a  secluded  place,  where  the  affair  can  be  conducted  without  fear 
of  interruption." 

"  Fear  of  interruption  I"  thought  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Nothing  more  to  arrange,  I  think,"  said  the  officer. 

"  I  am  not  aware  of  anything  more,"  replied  Mr.  W'inkle. 

"  Good  morning." 

"  Good  morning :"  and  the  officer  whistled  a  lively  air,  as  he  strode 
away. 

That  morning's  breakfast  passed  heavily  off.  Mr.  Tupman  was  not 
in  a  condition  to  rise,  after  the  unwonted  dissipation  of  the  previous 
night ;  Mr.  Snodgrass  appeared  to  labour  under  a  poetical  depression  of 
spirits;  and  even  Mr.  Pickwick  evinced  an  unusual  attachment  to 
silence  and  soda  water.  Mr.  Winkle  eagerly  watched  his  opportunity. 
It  was  not  long  wanting.  Mr.  Snodgrass  proposed  a  visit  to  the  castle, 
and  as  Mr.  Winkle  was  the  only  other  member  of  the  party  disposed  to 
walk,  they  went  out  together. 

"  Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  when  they  had  turned  out  of  the 
public  street ;  "  Snodgrass,  my  dear  fellow,  can  I  rely  upon  your 
secresy  ?  "  As  he  said  this,  he  most  devoutly  and  earnestly  hoped  he 
could  not. 

"  You  can,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass.     *'  Hear  me  swear — " 

"  No,  no  ;"  interrupted  Winkle,  terrified  at  the  idea  of  his  compa- 
nion's unconsciously  pledging  himself  not  to  give  information  ;  "  don't 
swear,  don't  swear ;  it 's  quite  unnecessary." 

Mr.  Snodgrass  dropped  the  hand  which  he  had,  in  the  spirit  of  poesy, 
raised  towards  the  clouds,  as  he  made  the  above  appeal,  and  assumed 
an  attitude  of  attention. 

*'  I  want  your  assistance,  my  dear  fellow,  in  an  affair  of  honour,"  said 
Mr.  Winkle. 

*'  You  shall  have  it,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass,  clasping  his  friend'? 
hand. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  21 

"With  a  Doctor  —  Doctor  Slammer,  of  the  Ninety-snventh,"  said 
Mr.  Winkle,  wishing-  to  make  the  matter  appear  as  solemn  as  pos- 
sible ;  "an  affair  with  an  officer,  seconded  by  another  officer,  .at 
sunset  this  evening-,  in  a  lonely  field  lipyond  Fort  Pitt." 

"  1  will  attend  you,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

He  was  astonished,  but  i»y  no  means  dismaye<l.  It  is  extraor- 
dinary how  cool  any  party  but  the  principal  can  be  in  such  cases. 
Mr.  Winkle  had  forgotten  this.  lie  had  judged  of  his  friend's  feelings 
by  his  own. 

"  The  consequences  may  be  dreadful,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  The  Doctor,  1  believe,  is  a  very  good  shot,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Most  of  these  military  men  are,"  observed  Mr.  Snodgrass,  calmly  ; 
*'bnt  so  are  you,  a'n't  you  ?" 

Mr.  Winkle  replied  in  the  affirmative;  and  perceiving  that  he  had 
not  alarmed  his  companion  sufficiently,  changed  his  ground. 

"  Snodgrass,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  "  if  I  fall, 
you  will  find  in  a  packet  which  1  shall  place  in  your  hands  a  note  for 
my —  for  my  father." 

This  attack  was  a  failure  also.  Mr.  Snodi^rass  was  affected,  but  he 
undertook  the  delivery  of  the  note,  as  readily  as  if  he  had  been  a 
Twopenny  Postman. 

"  If  I  fall,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  "or  if  the  Doctor  falls,  you,  my  dear 
friend,  will  be  tried  as  an  accessory  before  the  fact.  Shall  I  involve  my 
friend  in  transportation — possibly  for  life!" 

Mr.  Snodgrass  winced  a  little  at  this,  ])ut  his  heroism  was  invincible. 
"  In  the  cause  of  friendship,"  he  fervently  exclaimed,  "I  would  brave 
all  dangers." 

How  Mr.  Winkle  cursed  his  companion's  devoted  friendship  inter- 
nally, as  they  walked  silently  along,  side  by  side,  for  some  minutes, 
each  immersed  in  his  awn  meditations  I  The  morning-  was  wearing- 
away ;  he  grew  desperate 

"  Snodgrass,"  he  said,  stopping  suddenly,  "  do  not  let  me  be  baulked 
in  this  matter — do  not  give  information  to  the  local  authorities — do  not 
obtain  the  assistance  of  several  peace  officers,  to  take  either  me  or  Doctor 
Slammer,  of  the  Ninety-seventh  Regiment,  at  present  quartered  in 
Chatham  Barracks,  into  custody,  and  thus  prevent  this  duel ; — I  say, 
do  noty 

Mr.  Snodgrass  seized  his  friend's  hand  warmly,  as  he  enthusiastically 
replied,  "  Not  for  worlds  I" 

A  thrill  passed  over  Mr.  Winkle's  frame,  as  the  conviction,  that  he 
had  nothing  to  hope  from  his  friend's  fears,  and  that  he  was  destined  to 
become  an  animated  target,  rushed  forcibly  upon  him. 

The  state  of  the  case  having  been  formally  explained  to  Mr.  Snod- 
grass, and  a  case  of  satisfaction  pistols,  with  the  satisfactory  accom- 
paniments of  powder,  ball,  and  caps,  having  been  hired  from  a 
manufacturer  in  Rochester,  the  two  friends  returned  to  their  inn  :  Mr. 
Winkle,  to  ruminate  on  the  aj)pr()aching  struggle ;  and  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
to  arrange  the  weapons  of  war,  and  put  them  into  proper  order  for 
immediate  uwe 


22  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

It  was  a  dull  and  heavy  evening-,  when  they  again  sallieil  forth  on 
their  awkward  errand.  Mr.  Winkle  was  muffled  up  in  a  huge  cloak  to 
escape  observation;  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  bore  under  his  the  instruments 
of  destruction. 

"  Have  you  got  ev'rything?"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  in  an  agitated  tone 

"  Ev'ry  thing,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass  ;  "  plenty  of  ammunition,  in 
case  the  shots  don't  take  effect.  There's  a  quarter  of  a  pound  ot 
powder  in  the  case,  and  I  have  g-ot  two  newspapers  in  my  pocket,  for 
the  loadings." 

These  were  instances  of  friendship,  for  which  any  man  might  reason- 
ably feel  most  g-rateful.  The  presumption  is,  that  the  gratitude  of 
Mr.  Winkle  was  too  powerful  for  utterance,  as  he  said  nothing,  but 
continued  to  walk  on — rather  slowly. 

"  We  are  in  excellent  time,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  they  climbed  the 
fence  of  the  first  field ;  "  the  sun  is  just  going  down."  Mr.  Winkle 
looked  up  at  the  declining  orb,  and  painfully  thought  of  the  proba- 
bility of  his  "  going  down"  himself,  before  long. 

"  There's  the  officer,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle,  after  a  few  minutes' 
walking. 

"  Where?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  There  ; — the  gentleman  in  the  blue  cloak."  Mr.  Snodgrass  looked 
in  the  direction  indicated  by  the  forefinger  of  his  friend,  and  observed  a 
figure,  muffled  up,  as  he  had  described.  The  officer  evinced  his  con- 
sciousness of  their  presence  by  slightly  beckoning  with  his  hand  ;  and 
the  two  friends  followed  him,  at  a  little  distance,  as  he  walked  avvay. 

The  evening  grew  more  dull  every  moment,  and  a  melancholy  wind 
sounded  through  the  deserted  fields,  like  a  distant  giant^  whistling  for 
his  house-dog.  The  sadness  of  the  scene  imparted  a  sombre  tinge  to 
the  feelings  of  Mr.  Winkle.  He  started  as  they  passed  the  angle  of  the 
trench — it  looked  like  a  colossal  grave. 

The  officer  turned  suddenly  from  the  path  ;  and  after  climbing  a 
paling,  and  scaling  a  hedge,  entered  a  secluded  field.  Two  gentlemen 
were  waiting  in  it ;  one  was  a  little  fat  man,  with  black  hair;  and  the 
other — a  portly  personage  in  a  braided  surtout — was  sitting  with  perfect 
equanimity  on  a  camp-stool. 

"  The  other  party,  and  a  surgeon,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass ; 
"  take  a  drop  of  brandy."  Mr.  Winkle  seized  the  wicker  bottle,  which 
his  friend  proffered,  and  took  a  lengthened  pull  at  the  exhilarating 
liquid. 

"  My  friend,  sir,  Mr.  Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  Wrinkle,  as  the  officer 
approached.  Doctor  Slammer's  friend  bowed,  and  produced  a  case 
similar  to  that  which  Mr.  Snodgrass  carried. 

"  We  have  nothing  further  to  say,  sir,  I  think,"  he  coldly  remarked, 
as  he  opened  the  case;  "  an  apology  has  been  resolutely  declined." 

"  Nothing,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  began  to  feel  rather 
uncomfortable  himself. 

"  Will  you  step  forward?"  said  the  officer. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass.  The  ground  was  measured, 
and  preliminaries  arranged. 

'<  You  will   find  these  better  than  your  own,"  said  the   opposite 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  2-3 

second,  producing  his   pistols.     "  You   saw  me  load    them.     Do  you 
object  to  use  them  ?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Snoderass.  The  offer  relieved  hinr 
from  considerable  embarrassment  ;  for  his  previous  notions  of  loadini;-  a 
pistol  were  rather  vag^ue  and  undefined. 

"  We  may  place  our  men,  then,  I  think,"  observed  the  officer,  with 
as  much  indiflFerence  as  if  the  prirsipals  were  chess-men,  and  the 
seconds  players. 

♦*  I  think  we  may,"  replied  INIr.  Snodgrass  ;  who  would  have  assented 
to  any  proposition,  because  he  knew  nothing  about  the  matter.  The 
officer  crossed  to  Doctor  Slammer,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  went  up  to  Mr. 
Winkle. 

"  It 's  all  ready,"  he  said,  offering  the  pistol,     "  Give  me  your  cloak." 

'♦  You  have  got  the  packet,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  poor  Winkle. 

*•  All  right,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass.     "  Be  steady,  and  wing  him." 

It  occurred  to  Mr.  Wrinkle  that  this  advice  was  very  like  that  which 
by-standers  invariably  give  to  the  smallest  boy  in  a  street  fight ;  namely, 
*' Go  in,  and  win:" — an  admirable  thing  to  recommend,  if  you  only 
know  how  to  do  it.  He  took  off  his  cloak,  however,  in  silence — it 
always  took  a  long  time  to  undo  that  cloak — and  accepted  the  pistol. 
The  seconds  retired,  the  gentleman  on  the  camp-stool  did  the  same, 
and  the  belligerents  approached  each  other. 

Mr.  W'inkle  was  always  remarkable  for  extreme  humanity.  It  is 
conjectured  that  his  unwillingness  to  hurt  a  fellow-creature  inten- 
tionally, was  the  cause  of  his  shutting  his  eyes  when  he  arrived  at  the 
fatal  spot ;  and  that  the  circumstance  of  his  eyes  being  closed*,  prevented 
his  observing  the  very  extraordinary  and  unaccountable  demeanour  of 
Doctor  Slammer.  That  gentleman  started,  stared,  retreated,  rubbed  his 
eye^    stared  again  ;  and,  finally,  shouted  "  Stop,  stop!" 

"  What's  all  this?"  said  Doctor  Slammer,  as  his  friend  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass  came  running  up — "  That's  not  the  man." 

"  Not  the  man  !"  said  Doctor  Slammer's  second. 

"  Not  the  man  I"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

'*  Not  the  man  !"'  said  the  gentleman  with  the  camp-stool  in  his  hand. 

**  Certainly  not,"  replied  the  little  doctor.  "That's  not  the  person 
who  insulted  me  last  niffht." 

"Very  extraordinary  I"  exclaimed  the  officer. 

**  Very,"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  camp-stool.  "  The  only  question 
is,  whether  the  gentleman,  being  on  the  ground,  must  not  be  considered, 
as  a  matter  of  form,  to  be  the  individual  who  insulted  our  friend,  Doctor 
Slammer,  yesterday  evening,  whether  he  is  really  that  individual  or  not:' 
and  having  delivered  this  suggestion,  with  a  very  sage  and  mysterious 
air,  the  man  with  the  camp-stool  took  a  large  pinch  of  snuif,  and  looked 
profoundly  round,  with  the  air  of  an  authority  in  such  matters. 

Now  Mr.  Winkle  had  opened  his  eyes,  and  his  ears  too,  when  he 
heard  his  adversary  call  out  for  a  cessation  of  hostilities  ;  and  perceiv- 
ing by  what  he  had  afterwards  said,  that  there  was,  beyond  all  qiieslion, 
some  mistake  in  the  matter,  he  at  once  foresaw  (he  increase  of  reputa- 
tion he  should  inevitably  acquire,  by  concealing  the  real  motive  of  his 
coming  out:  he  therefore  stepped  boldly  forward,  and  said — 


24  rosTFiUMOUs  papers  of 

*'  I  am  n  >t  the  person.     I  know  it/' 

"  Then,  that,"  said  the  man  with  the  camp-stool,  "is  an  affront  to 
Doctor  Slammer,  and  a  sufficient  reason  for  proceeding"  immediately." 

"  Pray  be  quiet,  Payne,"  said  the  Doctor's  second.  <'  Why  did  you 
not  communicate  this  fact  to  me,  this  morning,  sir?" 

"  To  be  sure — to  be  sure,"  said  the  man  with  the  camp-stool,  indig- 
nantly. 

"  1  entreat  you  to  be  quiet,  Payne,"  said  the  other.  "  May  I  repeat 
my  question,  sir?" 

"  Because,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  who  had  had  time  to  deliberate 
upon  his  answer — ''  because,  sir,  you  described  an  intoxicated  and 
ungentlemanly  person  as  wearing  a  coat,  which  I  have  the  honour,  not 
only  to  wear,  but  to  have  invented — the  proposed  uniform,  sir,  of  the 
Pickwick  Club  in  London.  The  honour  of  that  uniform  I  feel  bound 
to  maintain,  and  I  therefore,  without  inquiry,  accepted  the  challenge 
which  you  offered  me." 

"  My  dear  sir/'  said  the  good-humoured  little  doctor,  advancing  with 
extended  hand,  "  I  honour  your  gallantry.  Permit  me  to  say,  sir,  that 
I  highly  admire  your  conduct,  and  extremely  regret  having  caused  you 
the  inconvenience  of  this  meeting,  to  no  purpose." 

"  I  beg  you  won't  mention  it,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  I  shall  feel  proud  of  your  acquaintance,  sir,"  said  the  little  doctor. 

*'  It  will  aiford  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  know  you,  sir,"  replied 
Mr.  Winkle.  Thereupon  the  Doctor  and  Mr.  Winkle  shook  hands, 
and  then  Mr.  Winkle  and  Lieutenant  Tappleton  (the  doctor's  second), 
and  then  Mr.  Winkle  and  the  man  with  the  camp-stool,  and,  finally,  Mr. 
Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass :  the  last  named  gentleman  in  an  excess  of 
admiration  at  the  noble  conduct  of  his  heroic  friend." 

"  I  think  we  may  adjourn,"  said  Lieutenant  Tappleton. 

"  Certainly,"  added  the  Doctor. 

"  Unless,"  interposed  the  man  with  the  camp-stool,  "  unless  Mr. 
Wrinkle  feels  himself  aggrieved  by  the  challenge;  in  which  case,  I 
submit,  he  has  a  right  to  satisfaction." 

Mr.  Winkle,  with  great  self-denial,  expressed  himself  quite  satisfied 
already. 

'♦  Or  possibly,"  said  the  man  with  the  camp-stool,  "  the  gentleman's 
second  may  feel  himself  affronted  with  some  observations  which  fell 
from  me  at  an  early  period  of  this  meeting :  if  so,  I  shall  be  happy  to 
give  him  satisfaction  immediately." 

Mr.  Snodgrass  hastily  professed  himself  very  much  obliged  with  the 
handsome  ofi*er  of  the  gentleman  who  had  spoken  last,  which  he  was 
only  induced  to  decline,  by  his  entire  contentment  with  the  whole  pro- 
ceedings. The  two  seconds  adjusted  the  cases,  and  the  whole  party 
left  the  ground  in  a  much  more  lively  manner  than  thoy  had  proceeded 

to  it. 

"Do  you  remain  long  here?"  inquired  Doctor  Slammer  of  Mr. 
Winkle,  as  they  walked  on  most  amicably  together. 

"I  think  we  shall  leave  here  the  day  after  to-morrow,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  I  trust  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  and  your  friend  at 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


25 


my   rooms,  and  of  spending  a  pleasant  evening  with  you,  after  this 
awkward  mistake,"  said  the  little  doctor;  "are  you  disengaged  this 

evening  ?* 

*♦  We  have  some  friends  here,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  "  and  I  should  not 
like  to  leave  them  to-night.      Perhaps  you  and  your  friend  will  join  us 

at  the  Bull."  ,  ,     ,   , 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  said  the  little  doctor ;  "  will  ten  o  clock  be 
too  late  to  look  in  for  half  an  hour  ?" 

"  Oh  dear,  no,"  said  Mr.  Winkle.  "  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  mtro- 
duce  you  to  my  friends,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman." 

<'  It  will  give  me  great  pleasure,  I  am  sure,"  replied  Doctor  Slammer, 
little  suspecting  who  Mr.  Tupman  was. 

"  You  will  be  sure  to  come  ?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

<'  Oh  certainly." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  road.  Cordial  farewells  were 
exchanged,  and  the  party  separated.  Doctor  Slammer  and  his  friends 
repaired  to  the  barracks,  and  Mr.  Winkle,  accompanied  by  his  friend, 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  returned  to  their  inn. 


CHAPTER  III. 


A   NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.       THE  STROLLER's  TALE A  DISAGREEABLE 

INTERRUPTION  ;    AND    AN    UNPLEASANT    RENCONTRE. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  felt  some  apprehensions  in  consequence  of  the 
unusual  absence  of  his  two  friends,  which  their  mysterious  behaviour 
during  the  whole  morning  had  by  no  means  tended  to  diminish.  It 
was,  therefore,  with  more  than  ordinary  pleasure  that  he  rose  to  greet 
them  when  they  again  entered ;  and  with  more  than  ordinary  interest 
that  he  inquired  what  had  occurred  to  detain  them  from  his  society. 
In  reply  to  his  questions  on  this  point,  Mr.  Snodgrass  was  about  to 
offer  an  historical  account  of  the  circumstances  just  now  detailed,  when 
he  was  suddenly  checked,  by  observing  that  there  were  present,  not 
only  Mr.  Tupman  and  their  stage-coach  companion  of  the  preceding 
day,  but  another  stranger  of  equally  singular  appearance.  It  was  a 
care-worn  looking  man,  whose  sallow  face,  and  deeply  sunken  eyes,  were 
rendered  still  more  striking  than  nature  had  made  them,  by  the  straight 
black  hair  which  hung  in  matted  disorder  half  w:ay  down  his  face.  His 
eyes  were  almost  unnaturally  bright  and  piercing;  his  cheek-bones 
were  high  and  prominent ;  and  his  jaws  were  so  long  and  lank,  that  an 
observ'er  would  have  supposed  he  was  drawing  the  flesh  of  his  face  in, 
for  a  moment,  by  some  contraction  of  the  muscles,  if  his  half-opened 
mouth  and  immoveable  expression  had  not  announced  that  it  was  his 
ordinary  appearance.  Round  his  neck  he  wore  a  green  shawl,  with  the 
large  ends  straggling  over  his  chest,  and  making  their  appearance 
occasionally,  beneath  the  worn  button-holes  of  his  old  waistcoat.  His 
upper  garment  was  a  long  black  surtout ;  and  below  it,  he  wore  wide 
drab  trousers,  and  large  boots,  running  rapidly  to  seed. 


26  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

It  was  on  this  uncouth-looking  person,  that  Mr.  Winkle's  eye  rested, 
and  it  was  towards  him  that  Mr.  Pickwick  extended  his  hand,  when  he 
said  "  A  friend  of  our  friend's  here.  "We  discovered  this  morning  that 
our  friend  was  connected  with  the  theatre  in  this  place,  though  he  is 
not  desirous  to  have  it  generally  known,  and  this  gentleman  is  a  mem- 
ber of  the  same  profession.  He  was  about  to  favour  us  with  a  little 
anecdote  connected  with  it,  when  you  entered." 

"  Lots  of  aYiecdote,"  said  the  green-coated  stranger  of  the  day 
before,  advancing  to  Mr.  Winkle  and  speaking  in  a  low  confidential 
tone.  "  Rum  fellow — does  the  heavy  business — no  actor — strange  man 
— all  sorts  of  miseries^ — dismal  Jemmy,  we  call  him  on  the  circuit."  Mr. 
Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  politely  welcomed  the  gentleman,  elegantly 
designated  as  "  Dismal  Jemmy ;"  and  calling  for  brandy  and  water,  in 
imitation  of  the  remainder  of  the  company,  seated  themselves  at  the 
table. 

"  Now,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  will  you  oblige  us  with  proceed- 
ing with  what  you  were  going  to  relate  ?" 

The  dismal  individual  took  a  di'rty  roll  of  paper  from  his  pocket,  and 
turning  to  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  had  just  taken  out  his  note-book,  said 
in  a  hollow  voice,  perfectly  in  keeping  with  his  outward  man — "  Are 
you  the  poet?" 

«  I — I  do  a  little  in  that  way,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass,  rather  taken 
aback  by  the  abruptness  of  the  question. 

"  Ah  !  poetry  makes  life,  what  lights  and  music  do  the  stage.  Strip 
the  one  of  its  false  embellishments,  and  the  other  of  its  illusions,  and 
what  is  there  real  in  either,  to  live  or  care  for  ^" 

i<  Yery  true,  Sir,"  replie'd  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  To  be  before  the  footlights,"  continued  the  dismal  man,  "  is  like 
sitting  at  a  grand  court  show,  and  admiring  the  silken  dresses  of  the 
gaudy  throng — to  be  behind  them,  is  to  be  the  people  who  make  that 
finery,  uncared  for  and  unknown,  and  left  to  sink  or  swim,  to  starve 
or  live,  as  fortune  wills  it." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass :  for  the  sunken  eye  of  the  dismal 
man  rested  on  him,  and  he  felt  it  necessary  to  say  something. 

"Go  on,  Jemmy,"  said  the  Spanish  traveller,  "like  black -eyed 
Susan — all  in  the  Downs — no  croaking — speak  out — look  lively." 

"  Will  you  make  another  glass  before  you  begin.  Sir?"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

The  dismal  man  took  the  hint,  and  having  mixed  a  glass  of  brandy 
md  water,  and  slowly  swallowed  half  of  it,  opened  the  roll  of  paper  and 
proceeded,  partly  to  read  and  partly  to  rtlaie,  the  following  incident, 
which  we  find  recorded  on  the  Transactions  of  the  club,  as  "  The 
Stroller's  Tale." 


TIfK    PICKWICK    CLUB.  i>7 


CHAPTER    III. 
THE  stroller's  tale. 

**  There  is  nothing  of  the  marvellous  in  what  I  am  going  to  relate," 
said  the  dismal  man  ;  "  there  is  nothing  even  uncommon  in  it.  Want 
and  sickness  are  too  common  in  many  stations  of  life,  to  deserve  more 
notice  than  is  usually  bestowed  on  the  most  ordinary  vicissitudes  of 
human  nature.  I  have  thrown  these  few  notes  together,  because  the 
subject  of  them  was  well  known  to  me  for  many  years.  I  traced  his 
progress  downwards,  step  by  step,  until  at  last  he  reached  that  excess 
of  destitution  from  which  he  never  rose  again. 

"  The  man  of  whom  I  speak  was  a  low  pantomime  actor ;  and,  like 
many  people  of  his  class,  an  habitual  drunkard.  In  his  better  days, 
before  he  had  become  enfeebled  by  dissipation  and  emaciated  by  disease, 
he  had  been  in  the  receipt  of  a  good  salary,  which,  if  he  had  been 
careful  and  prudent,  he  might  have  continued  to  receive  for  some  years 
— not  many  ;  because  these  men  either  die  early,  or,  by  unnaturally 
taxing  their  bodily  energies,  lose,  prematurely,  those  physical  powers 
on  which  alone  they  can  depend  for  subsistence.  His  besetting  sin 
gained  so  fast  upon  him,  however,  that  it  was  found  impossible  to 
employ  him  in  the  situations  in  which  he  really  was  useful  to  the 
theatre.  The  public-house  had  a  fascination  for  him  which  he  could 
not  resist.  Neglected  disease  and  hopeless  poverty  were  as  certain  to 
be  his  portion  as  death  itself,  if  he  persevered  in  the  same  course  ;  yet 
he  did  persevere,  and  the  result  may  be  guessed.  He  could  obtain  no 
engagement,  and  he  wanted  bread. 

•'  Everybody  who  is  at  all  acquainted  with  theatrical  matters,  knows 
what  a  host  of  shabby,  poverty-stricken  men,  hang  about  the  stage  of  a 
large  establishment — not  regularly  engaged  actors,  but  ballet  people, 
procession  men,  tumblers,  and  so  forth,  who  are  taken  on  during  the 
run  of  a  pantomime,  or  an  Easter  piece,  and  are  then  discharged,  until 
the  production  of  some  heavy  spectacle  occasions  a  new  demand  for 
their  services.  To  this  mode  of  life  the  man  was  compelled  to  resort ; 
and  taking  the  chair  every  night,  at  some  low  theatrical  house,  at  once 
put  him  in  possession  of  a  few  more  shillings  weekly,  and  enabled  him 
to  gratify  his  old  propensity.  Even  this  resource  shortly  failed  him  ;  his 
irregularities  were  too  great  to  admit  of  his  earning  the  wretched 
pittance  he  might  thus  have  procured,  and  he  was  actually  reduced  to  a 
state  bordering  on  starvation,  only  procuring  a  trifle  occasionally  by 
borrowing  it  of  some  old  companion,  or  by  obtaining  an  appearance  at 
one  or  other  of  the  commonest  of  the  minor  theatres  ;  and  when  he 
d  earn  anything,  it  was  spent  in  the  old  way. 

"  About  this  time,  and  when  he  had  been  existing  for  upwards  of  a 
ear  no  one  knew  how,  I  had  a  short  engagement  at  one  of  the  theatres 
D  the  Surrey  side  of  the  water,  and  here  I  saw  this  man,  whom  I  bai 

s 


28 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


lost  sight  offer  some  time  ;  for  I  had  been  travelling  in  the  provinces, 
and  he  had  been  skulking-  in  the  lanes  and  alleys  of  London.  I  was 
dressed  to  leave  the  house,  and  was  crossing  the  stage  on  my  way  out, 
when  he  tapped  me  on  the  shoulder.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  repul- 
sive sight  that  met  my  eye  when  I  turned  round.  He  was  dressed  for 
the  pantomime,  in  all  the  absurdity  of  a  clown's  costume.  The  spectral 
figures  in  the  Dance  of  Death,  the  most  frightful  shapes  that  the  ablest 
painter  ever  portrayed  on  canvas,  never  presented  an  appearance  half 
so  ghastly.  His  bloated  body  and  shrunken  legs — their  deformity 
enhanced  a  hundred  fold  by  the  fantastic  dress — the  glassy  eyes,  con- 
trasting fearfully  with  the  thick  white  paint  with  which  the  face  was 
besmeared:  the  grotesquely-ornamented  head,  trembling  with  paralysis, 
and  the  long  skinny  hands,  rubbed  with  white  chalk— all  gave  him  a 
hideous  and  unnatural  appearance,  of  which  no  description  could  convey 
an  adequate  idea,  and  which,  to  this  day,  I  shudder  to  think  of.  His 
voice  was  hollow  and  tremulous,  as  he  took  me  aside,  and  in  broken 
words  recounted  a  long  catalogue  of  sickness  and  privations,  terminating, 
as  usual,  with  an  urgent  request  for  the  loan  of  a  trifling  sum  of  money. 
I  put  a  few  shillings  in  his  hand,  and,  as  I  turned  away,  I  heard  the 
roar  of  laughter  which  followed  his  first  tumble  on  to  the  stage. 

"  A  few  nights  afterwards,  a  boy  put  a  dirty  scrap  of  paper  in  my 
hand,  on  which  were  scrawled  a  few  words  in  pencil,  intimating  that 
the  man  was  dangerously  ill,  and  begging  me,  after  the  performance,  to 
see  him  at  his  lodgings  in  some  street — I  forget  the  name  of  it  now — 
at  no  great  distance  from  the  theatre.  I  promised  to  comply,  as  soon 
as  I  could  get  away  ;  and,  after  the  curtain  fell,  sallied  forth  on  my 
melancholy  errand. 

"  It  was  late,  for  I  had  been  playing  in  the  last  piece ;  and,  as  it  was 
a  beneflt  night,  the  performances  had  been  protracted  to  ah  unusual 
length.  It  was  a  dark  cold  night,  with  a  chill  damp  wind,  which  blew 
the  rain  heavily  against  the  windows  and  house-fronts.  Pools  of  water 
had  collected  in  the  narrow  and  little-frequented  streets,  and  as  many 
of  the  thinly-scattered  oil-lamps  had  been  blown  out  by  the  violence  of 
the  wind,  the  walk  was  not  only  a  comfortless,  but  most  uncertain  one. 
1  had  fortunately  taken  the  right  course,  however,  and  succeeded,  after  a 
little  difficulty,  in  finding  the  house  to  which  I  had  been  directed — a  coal 
shed,  with  one  story  above  it,  in  the  back  room  of  which  lay  the  object 
of  my  search. 

"  A  wretched-looking  woman,  the  man's  wife,  met  me  on  the  stairs, 
and,  telling  me  that  he  had  just  fallen  into  a  kind  of  doze,  led  me  softly 
in,  and  placed  a  chair  for  me  at  the  bed-side.  The  sick  man  was  lying 
with  his  face  turned  towards  the  wall ;  and  as  he  took  no  heed  of  my 
presence,  I  had  leisure  to  observe  the  place  in  which  I  fiound  myself. 

"  He  was  lying  on  an  old  bedstead,  which  turned  up  during  the  day. 
The  tattered  remains  of  a  checked  curtain  were  drawn  round  the  bed's 
head,  to  exclude  the  wind,  which  however  made  its  way  into  the  com- 
fortless room  through  the  numerous  chinks  in  the  door,  and  blew  it  to 
and  fro  every  instant.  There  was  a  low  cinder  fire  in  a  rusty  unfixed 
grate;  and  an  eld  three-cornered  stained  talle,  with  some  meiicine- 
bolties,  a  broken  glass,  and  a  few  other  domestic  articles,  was  drav*'  out 


iME    PICKWICK    CLUB.  29 

before  it.  A  little  child  was  sleeping  on  a  temporary  bed  which  liad 
been  made  for  it  on  the  floor,  and  the  woman  sat  on  a  chair  by  its  side. 
There  were  a  couple  of  shelves,  with  a  few  j)lates  and  cups  and  saucers  : 
and  a  pair  of  stage  shoes  and  a  couple  of  foils  hung  beneath  them. 
With  the  exception  of  little  heaps  of  ra2:s  and  bundles  which  had  been 
carelessly  thrown  into  the  corners  of  the  room,  these  were  the  only 
things  in  the  apartment. 

"  I  had  had  time  to  note  these  little  particulars,  and  to  mark  the 
heavy  breathing  and  feverish  starlings  of  the  sick  man,  before  he  was 
aware  of  my  presence.  In  his  restless  attempts  to  procure  some  easy 
resting-place  for  his  head,  he  tossed  his  hand  out  of  the  bed,  and  it  fell 
on  mine.     He  started  up,  and  stared  eagerly  in  my  face. 

"*  Mr.  Hutley,  John,*  said  his  wife  ;  '  Mr.  Hutley,  that  you  sent 
for  to-night,  you  know.' 

"  *  Ah  !  '    said   the   invalid,   passing  bis  hand   across  his  forehead ; 

*  Hutley — Hutley — let  me  see.'  He  seemed  endeavouring  to  collect  his 
thoughts  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  grasping  me  tightly  by  the  wrist, 
said,  '  Don't  leave  me — don't  leave  me,  old  fellow.  She'll  murder  me  ; 
1  know  she  will.' 

**  *  Has  he  been  long  so  ?'  said  I,  addressing  his  weeping  wife. 

"  *  Since  yesterday  night,'  she  replied.  *  John,  John,  don't  you 
know  me  ?  * 

**  *  Don't  let  her  come  near  me,'  said  the  man,  with  a  shudder,  as 
she  stooped  over  him.  *  Drive  her  away  ;  1  can't  bear  her  near  me.' 
He  stared  wildly  at  her,  with  a  look  of  deadly  apprehension,  and  then 
whispered  in  my  ear,  '  I  beat  her,  Jem  ;  1  beat  her  yesterday,  and  many 
times  before.  I  have  starved  her,  and  the  boy  too  ;  and  now  I  am  weak 
and  helpless,  Jem,  she'll  murder  me  for  it ;  I  know  she  will.  If  you'd 
seen  her  cry,  as  I  have,  you'd  know  it  too.  Keep  her  off.'  He  relaxed 
his  grasp,  and  sunk  back  exhausted  on  the  pillow, 

"  I  knew  but  too  well  what  all  this  meant.  If  I  could  have  entertained 
any  doubt  of  it,  for  an  instant,  one  glance  at  the  woman's  })ale 
face  and  wasted  form  would  have  sufficiently  explained  the  real  state 
of  the  case.     '  You  had  better  stand  aside,'  said  I  to  the  poor  creature. 

*  You  can  do  him  no  good.  Perhaps  he  will  be  calmer,  if  he  does  uo\ 
see  you,*  She  retired  out  of  the  man's  sight.  He  opened  his  eyes, 
after  a  few  seconds,  and  looked  anxiously  round. 

"  *  Is  she  gone  ?  '  he  eagerly  inquired. 

*'  *  Yes — yes,*  said  I ;  '  she  shall  not  hurt  you.' 

"*  I'll  tell  you  what,  Jem,'  sai<l  the  man,  in  a  low  voice,  *  she  does 
hurt  me.  There's  something  in  her  eyes  wakes  such  a  dreadful  fear  in 
my  heart,  that  it  drives  me  mad.  All  last  night,  her  large  staring  eyes 
and  pale  face  were  close  to  mine;  wherever  1  turned,  they  turned  ;  and 
whenever  I  started  up  from  my  sleep,  she  was  at  the  bed-side  looking 
at  me.*  He  drew  me  closer  to  him,  as  he  said  in  a  deep,  alarmed  whis- 
per— *  Jem,  she  must  be  an  evil  spirit — a  devil  I  Hush  !  I  know  she 
is.  If  she  had  been  a  woman,  she  would  have  died  long  ago.  No 
woman  could  have  borne  what  she   has.' 

"  I  sickened  at  the  thought  of  the  long  course  of  cruelty  and  neglect 
which  must  have  occurred  to  produce  such  an  impression  on  such  a 


iM)  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

man.     I  could  say  nothing-  in  reply;  for  who  could  offer  hope,  or  conso- 
lation, to  the  abject  being  before  me  ? 

"  I  sat  there  for  upwards  of  two  hours,  during-  which  time  he  tossed 
about,  murmuring  exclamations  of  pain  or  impatience,  restlessly  throw- 
ing his  arms  here  and  there,  and  turning  constantly  from  side  to  side. 
At  length  he  fell  into  that  state  of  partial  unconsciousness,  in  which 
the  mind  wanders  uneasily  from  scene  to  scene,  and  from  place  to  place, 
without  the  control  of  reason,  but  still  without  being  able  to  divest 
itself  of  an  indescribable  sense  of  present  suffering.  Finding  from  his 
incoherent  wanderings  that  this  was  the  case,  and  knowing  that  in  all 
probability  the  fever  would  not  grow  immediately  worse,  I  left  him, 
promising  his  miserable  wife  that  I  would  repeat  my  visit  next  evening, 
and,  if  necessary,  sit  up  with  the  patient  during  the  night. 

"  I  kept  my  promise.  The  last  four  and  twenty  hours  had  produced 
a  frightful  alteration.  The  eyes,  though  deeply  sunk  and  heavy,  shone 
with  a  lustre,  frightful  to  behold.  The  lips  were  parched,  and  cracked 
in  many  places  :  the  dry  hard  skin  glowed  with  a  burning  heat,  and 
there  was  an  almost  unearthly  air  of  wild  anxiety  in  the  man's  face, 
indicating  even  more  strongly  the  ravages  of  the  disease.  The  fever 
was  at  its  height. 

"  I  took  the  seat  I  had  occupied  the  night  before,  and  there  I  sat  for 
hours,  listening  to  sounds  which  must  strike  deep  to  the  heart  of  the 
most  callous  among  human  beings — the  awful  ravings  of  a  dying  man. 
From  what  I  had  heard  of  the  medical  attendant's  opinion,  1  knew 
there  was  no  hope  for  him  :  I  was  sitting  by  his  death-bed.  I  saw  the 
wasted  limbs,  which  a  few  hours  before,  had  been  distorted  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  a  boisterous  gallery,  writhing  under  the  tortures  of  a  burning 
fever — I  heard  the  clown's  shrill  laugh,  blending  with  the  low  murmur- 
ings  of  the  dying  man. 

"  It  is  a  touching  thing  to  hear  the  mind  reverting  to  the  ordinary 
occupations  and  pursuits  of  health,  when  the  body  lies  before  you  weak 
and  helpless ;  but  when  those  occupations  are  of  a  character  the  most 
strongly  opposed  to  any  thing  we  associate  with  grave  or  solemn  ideas 
the  impression  produced  is  infinitely  more  powerful.  The  theatre,  and  the 
public-house,  were  the  chief  themes  of  the  wretched  man's  wanderings. 
It  was  evening,  he  fancied ;  he  had  a  part  to  play  that  night ;  it  was 
late,  and  he  must  leave  home  instantly.  Why  did  they  hold  him,  and 
prevent  his  going — he  should  lose  the  money — he  must  go.  No  !  they 
would  not  let  him.  He  hid  his  face  in  his  burning  hands,  and  feebly 
bemoaned  his  own  weakness,  and  the  cruelty  of  his  persecutors.  A 
short  pause,  and  he  shouted  out  a  few  doggerel  rhymes — the  last  he  had 
ever  learnt.  He  rose  in  bed,  drew  up  his  withered  limbs,  and  rolled 
about  in  uncouth  positions ;  he  was  acting — he  was  at  the  theatre.  A 
minute's  silence,  and  he  murmured  the  burden  of  some  roaring  song. 
He  had  reached  the  old  house  at  last ;  how  hot  the  room  was.  He  had 
been  ill,  very  ill,  but  he  was  well  now,  and  happy.  Fill  up  his  glass. 
Who  was  that,  that  dashed  it  from  his  lips  ?  It  was  the  same  perse- 
cutor that  had  followed  him  before.  He  fell  back  upon  bis  pillow,  and 
moaned  aloud.  A  short  period  of  oblivion,  and  he  was  wandering 
through  a  tedious  maze  of  low  arched  rooms — so  low,  sometimes,  that 


# 


\ 


yoaye  31 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  31 

he  must  creep  upon  his  hands  and  knees  to  make  his  way  along  ;  it  was 
close  and  dark,  and  every  way  ho  turned,  some  obstacle  impeded  his 
progress.  There  were  insects  too,  hideous  crawling  things,  with  eyea 
that  stared  upon  him,  and  filii'd  the  very  air  around  :  glistening  horribly 
amidst  the  thick  darkness  of  the  place.  The  walls  and  ceiling  were 
alive  with  reptiles — the  vault  expanded  to  an  enormous  size — frightful 
figures  flitted  to  and  fro — and  the  faces  of  men  he  knew,  rendered 
hideous  by  gibing  and  mouthing,  peered  out  from  among  them  ;  they 
were  searing  him  with  heated  irons,  and  binding  his  head  with  cords 
till  the  blood  started  ;  and  he  struggled  madly  for  life. 

*•  At  the  close  of  one  of  these  paroxysms,  when  I  had  with  great 
difficulty  held  him  down  in  his  bed,  he  sank  into  what  appeared  to 
be  a  slumber.  Overpowered  with  watching  and  exertion,  I  had  closed 
my  eyes  for  a  few  minutes,  when  I  felt  a  violent  clutch  on  my  shoulder. 
I  awoke  instantly.  He  had  raised  himself  up,  so  as  to  seat  himself  in 
bed — a  dreadful  change  had  come  over  his  face,  but  consciousneiss  ha.i 
returned,  for  he  evidently  knew  me.  The  child  who  had  been  long 
since  disturbed  by  his  ravings,  rose  from  its  little  bed,  and  ran  towards 
its  father,  screaming  with  fright — the  mother  hastily  caught  it  in  her 
arms,  lest  he  should  injure  it  in  the  violence  of  his  insanity:  but,  terrified 
by  the  alteration  of  his  features,  stood  transfixed  by  the  bed-side.  He 
grasped  my  shoulder  convulsively,  and,  striking  his  breast  with  the 
other  hand,  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  articulate.  It  was  unavailing 
— he  extended  his  arm  towards  them,  and  made  another  violent  effort. 
There  was  a  rattling  noise  in  the  throat — a  glare  of  the  eye — a  short 
stifled  groan — and  he  fell  back — dead  !  " 

It  would  afford  us  the  highest  gratification  to  be  enabled  to  record 
Mr.  Pickwick's  opinion  of  the  foregoing  anecdote.  We  have  little 
doubt  that  we  should  have  been  enabled  to  present  it  to  our  readers, 
but  for  a  most  unfortunate  occurrence. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  replaced  on  the  table,  the  glass  which,  during  the 
last  few  sentences  of  the  tale,  he  had  retained  in  his  hand  ;  and  had  just 
made  up  his  mind  to  speak — indeed,  we  have  the  authority  of  Mr. 
Snodgrass's  note-book  for  stating,  that  he  had  actually  opened  his 
mouth — when  the  waiter  entered  the  room,  and  said — 

'*  Some  gentlemen,  Sir." 

It  has  been  conjectured  that  Mr.  Pickwick  was  on  the  point  of  deli- 
vering some  remarks  which  would  have  enlightened  the  world,  if  not  the 
Thames,  when  he  was  thns  interrupted  :  for  he  gazed  sternly  on  the 
waiter's  countenance,  and  then  looked  round  on  the  company  generally, 
as  if  seeking  for  information  relative  to  the  new  comers. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr.  Winkle,  rising,  "  some  friends  of  mine — show  them 
in.  Very  pleasant  fellows,"  added  Mr.  Winkle,  after  the  waiter  had 
retired — "  Officers  of  the  97th,  whose  acquaintance  I  made  rather  oddly 
this  morning.     You  will  like  them  very  much." 

Mr.  Pickwick's  equanimity  was  at  once  restored.  The  waiter 
returned,  and  ushered  three  gentlemen  into  the  room. 

"  Lieutenant  Tappleton,"  ^aid  Mr.  Winkle,  "  Lieutenant  Tappleton, 
Mr.  Pickwick — Doctor  Payne,  Mr.  Pickwick — Mr.  Snodgrass,  you  have 


8^  POSTHUMOUS  Papers  of 

seen  before  :  my  friend  Mr.  Tupman,  Doctor  Payne—Doctor  Slammer, 
Mr.  Pickwick— Mr.  Tupman,  Doctor  Slam— ". 

Here  Mr.  Winkle  suddenly  paused ;  for  strong-  emotion  was  visible 
on  the  countenance  both  of  Mr.  Tupman  and  the  Doctor. 

'*  I  have  met  this  gentleman  before/'  said  the  Doctor,  with  marked 
emphasis. 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"And — and  that  person,  too,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,"  said  the  Doctor, 
bestowing-  a  scrutinizing-  glance  on  the  green-coated  stranger.  "  I  think 
I  gave  that  person  a  very  pressing  invitation  last  night,  which  he 
thought  proper  to  decline."  Saying  which,  the  Doctor  scowled  mag- 
nanimously on  the  stranger,  and  whispered  his  friend  Lieutenant  Tap- 
pleton. 

*'  You  don't  say  so,"  said  that  gentleman,  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
whisper. 

*'  I  do,  indeed,"  replied  Doctor  Slammer. 

*'  You  are  bound  to  kick  him  on  the  spot,"  murmured  the  owner  of 
the  camp-stool,  w^ith  great  importance. 

"  Do  be  quiet,  Payne,"  interposed  the  Lieutenant.  "  Will  you  allow 
me  to  ask  you.  Sir,"  he  said,  addressing  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  consi- 
derably mystified  by  this  very  unpolite  by-play — ''-  Will  you  allow  me  to 
ask  you,  Sir,  whether  that  person  belongs  to  your  party  ?" 

"  No,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  *'  he  is  a  guest  of  ours." 

"  He  is  a  member  of  your  club,  or  I  am  mistaken  ?  "  said  the  Lieu- 
tenant, inquiringly. 

"  Certainly  not,"  responded  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  And  never  wears  your  club-button  ?  "  said  the  Lieutenant. 

"  No — neverl  "  repHed  the  astonished  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Lieutenant  Tappleton  turned  round  to  his  friend  Doctor  Slammer, 
with  a  scarcely  perceptible  shrug  of  the  shoulder,  as  if  implying  some 
doubt  of  the  accuracy  of  his  recollection.  The  little  Doctor  looked 
wrathful,  but  confounded  ;  and  Mr.  Payne  gazed  with  a  ferocious  aspect 
on  the  beaming  countenance  of  the  unconscious  Pickwick. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  Doctor,  suddenly  addressing  Mr.  Tupman,  in  a  tone 
which  made  that  gentleman  start  as  perceptibly  as  if  a  pin  had  been 
cunningly  inserted  in  the  calf  of  his  leg — "  you  were  at  the  ball  here, 
last  night  ?  " 

Mr.  Tupman  gasped  a  faint  affirmative  ;  looking  very  hard  at  Mr. 
Pickwick  all  the  while. 

"  That  person  was  your  companion,"  said  the  Doctor,  pointing  to 
the  still  unmoved  stranger. 

Mr.  Tupman  admitted  the  fact. 

"  Now,  Sir,"  said  the  Doctor  to  the  stranger,  "  I  ask  you  once  again, 
in  the  presence  of  these  gentlemen,  whether  you  choose  to  give  me 
your  card,  and  to  receive  the  treatment  of  a  gentleman  ;  or  whether  you 
impose  upon  me  the  necessity  of  personally  chastising  you  on  the 
spot  ?  " 

"  Stay,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  really  cannot  allow  this  matte- 
to  go  any  further  without  some  explanation.  Tupman^  recount  the 
circumstances." 


TilK    PICKWICK    Cl.UB.  33 

Mr.  Tupman,  tluis  solemnly  a<ljure<l)  stated  the  case  in  a  few  words  ; 
touched  slii^htly  on  the  borrowing  of  the  coat;  expatiated  largely  on  its 
having  been  done  "  after  dinner;"  wound  up  with  a  little  penitence  on 
his  own  account;  and  left  the  strang-er  to  cleur  himself  as  he  best  could. 

He  was  apparently  about  to  procee<l  to  «lo  so,  when  Lieutenant  Tap- 
pleton,  who  had  been  eyeing  him  with  great  curiosity,  said  with  consi- 
derable scorn — "  Haven't  I  seen  you  at  the  theatre,  Sir  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  unabashed  stranger. 

"  He  is  a  strolling  actor,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  contemptuously: 
turning  to  Dr.  Slammer — "  He  acts  in  the  piece  that  the  Officers  of  the 
52nd  get  up  at  the  Rochester  theatre  to-morrow  night.  You  cannot 
proceed  in  this  affair,  Slammer — impossible  I  " 

"  Quite  !  "  said  the  dignified  Payne. 

*'  Sorry  to  have  placed  you  in  this  disagreeable  situation,"  said  Lieu- 
tenant Tappleton,  addressing  Mr.  Pickwick,  "allow  me  to  suggest, 
that  the  best  way  of  avoiding  a  recurrence  of  such  scenes  in  future, 
will  be  to  Se  more  select  in  the  choice  of  your  companions.  Good 
evening,  Sir  !  "  and  the  Lieutenant  bounced  out  of  the  room. 

"  And  allow  me' to  say.  Sir."  said  the  irascible  Doctor  Payne,  "  that 
if  I  had  been  Tappleton,  or  if  I  had  been  Slammer,  I  would  have  pulled 
your  nose.  Sir,  and  the  nose  of  every  man  in  this  company.  I  would. 
Sir, — every  man.  Payne  is  my  name,  Sir — Doctor  Payne  of  the  43rd. 
Good  evening.  Sir."  Having  concluded  this  s]>eech,  and  uttered  the 
three  last  words  in  a  loud  key,  he  stalked  majestically  after  his  friend, 
closely  followed  by  Doctor  Slammer,  who  said  nothing,  but  contented 
himself  by  withering  the  company  with  a  look. 

Rising  rage  and  extreme  bewilderment  had  swelled  the  noble  breast 
of  Mr.  Pickwick,  almost  to  the  bursting  of  his  waistcoat,  during  the 
delivery  of  the  above  defiance.  He  stood  transfixed  to  the  spot,  gazing  on 
vacancy.  The  closing  of  the  door  recalled  him  to  himself.  He  rushed 
forward  with  fury  in  his  looks,  and  fire  in  his  eye.  His  hand  was  upon 
the  lock  of  the  door ;  in  another  instant  it  would  have  been  on  the 
throat  of  Doctor  Payne  of  the  43rd,  had  not  Mr.  Snodgrass  seized  his 
revered  leader  by  the  coat  t.iil,  and  dragged  him  backwards. 

"  Restrain  him,"  cried  Mr.  Snodgrass,  "  Winkle,  Tupman  —  he 
must  not  peril  his  distinguished  life  in  such  a  cause  as  this." 

"  Let  me  go,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Hold  him  tight,"  shouted  Mr.  Snodgrass ;  and  by  the  united 
efforts  of  the  whole  company,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  forced  into  an  arm 
chair. 

"  Leave  him  alone,"  said  the  green-coated  stranger — "brandy  and 
water — jolly  old  gentleman — lots  of  pluck — swallow  this — ah  ! — capital 
stuff."  Having  previously  tested  the  virtues  of  a  bumper,  which  had 
been  mixed  by  the  dismal  man,  the  stranger  applied  the  glass  to  Mr. 
Pickwick's  mouth ;  and  the  remainder  of  its  contents  rapidly  disap- 
peared. 

There  was  a  short  pause ;  the  brandy  and  water  had  done  its  work ; 
the  amiable  countenance  of  Mr.  Pickwick  was  fast  recovering  its  custo- 
mary expression. 

"  They  are  not  worth  your  notice,"  said  the  dismal  man. 


34  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  You  are  right,  Sir."  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  they  are  not.  I  am 
ashamed  to  have  been  betrayed  into  this  warmth  of  feeling.  Draw 
your  chair  up  to  the  table.  Sir." 

The  dismal  man  readily  complied :  a  circle  was  again  formed  round 
the  table,  and  harmony  once  more  prevailed.  Some  lingering  irritabi- 
lity appeared  to  find  a  resting  place  in  Mr.  Winkle's  bosom,  occasioned 
possibly  by  the  temporary  abstraction  of  his  coat — though  it  is  scarcely 
reasonable  to  suppose,  that  so  slight  a  circumstance  can  have  excited 
even  a  passing  feeling  of  anger  in  a  Pickwickian  breast.  With  this 
exception,  their  good  humour  was  completely  restored ;  and  the 
evening  concluded  with  the  conviviality  with  which  it  had  begun. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


A  FIELD-DAY  AND    BIVOUAC — MORE    NEW    FRIENDS;    AND    AN    INVI- 
TATION   TO    THE    COUNTRY. 

Many  authors  entertain,  not  only  a  foolish,  but  a  really  dishonest 
objection,  to  acknowledge  the  sources  from  whence  they  derive  much 
valuable  information.  We  have  no  such  feeling.  We  are  merely  en- 
deavouring to  discharge  in  an  upright  manner,  the  responsible  duties  of 
our  editorial  functions  ;  and  whatever  ambition  we  might  have  felt 
under  other  circumstances,  to  lay  claim  to  the  authorship  of  these 
adventures,  a  regard  for  truth  forbids  us  to  do  more,  than  claim  the 
merit  of  their  judicious  arrangement,  and  impartial  narration.  The 
Pickwick  papers  are  our  New  River  Head ;  and  we  may  be  compared 
to  the  New  River  Company.  The  labours  of  others,  have  raised  for  us 
an  immense  reservoir  of  important  facts.  We  merely  lay  them  on, 
and  communicate  them,  in  a  clear  and  gentle  stream,  through  the 
medium  of  these  numbers,  to  a  world  thirsting  for  Pickwickian 
knowledge. 

Acting  in  this  spirit,  and  resolutely  proceeding  on  our  determination 
to  avow  our  obligations  to  the  authorities  we  have  consulted,  we  frankly 
say,  that  to  the  note-book  of  Mr.  Snodgrass  are  we  indebted  for  the 
particulars  recorded  in  this,  and  the  succeeding  chapter — particu- 
lars, which,  now  that  we  have  disburdened  our  conscience,  we  shall 
proceed  to  detail  without  further  comment. 

The  whole  population  of  Rochester  and  this  adjoining  towns,  rose 
from  their  beds  at  an  early  hour  of  the  following  morning,  in  a  state 
of  the  utmost  bustle  and  excitement.  A  grand  review  was  to  take 
place  upon  the  lines.  The  manoeuvres  of  half  a  dozen  regiments  were 
to  be  inspected  by  the  eagle  eye  of  the  commander-in-chief;  temporary 
fortifications  had  been  erected,  the  citadel  was  to  be  attacked  and 
taken,  and  a  mine  was  to  be  sprung. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was,  as  our  readers  may  have  gathered  from  the  slight 
extract  we  gave  from  his  description  of  Chatham,  an  enthusiastic 
admirer  of  the  army.    Nothing  could  have  been  more  delightful  to  him 


THE   PirKVVliJK   cf.Vif*  35 

~nothin^  could  have  harmoiu'zed  so  well  witn  the  prruliar  feeling  u. 
Mich  of  iiks  companions — as  tliis  si^ht.  Accordingly  they  were  soon 
a-foot>  end  walking  in  the  direction  of  ibe  scene  of  action,  towardf> 
which  crowds  of  people  were  already  pouring,  from  a  variety  of  quarters. 
The  appearance  of  everything  on  the  lines,  denoted  that  the  ap- 
proftching  ceremony  was  one  of  the  utmost  gr^^deur  and  importance. 
There  were  sentries  posted  to  keep  the  ground  for  the  troops,  and 
servants  on  tiie  batteries  keepii\g  places  for  the  ladies,  and  sergeant^ 
running*  to  and  fro,  with  vellum  covered  books  undjcw  their  arms,  and 
Colonel  Bulder,  in  full  military  yniform,  on  horseback,  gallopping  first 
to  one  place  and  then  to  another,  and  backing  his  horse  among  the 
people,  and  prancing,  and  curvetting,  and  shouting  in  a  most  alarming 
manner,  and  making  himself  very  hoarse  in  the  voice,  and  very  red  in 
the  face,  without  any  assignable  cause  or  reason  whatever.  Officprs 
were  running  backwards  and  forwards,  iirst  coraoiunicating  with  Colonel 
Bulder,  and  then  ordering  the  sergeants,  and  then  running  away  alto- 
gether: and  even  the  very  privates  themselves  looked  from  btliind 
their  glazed  stocks  with  an  air  of  mysterious  solemnity,  which  suffi- 
ciently bespoke  the  special  nature  of  the  occasion. 

Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  three  companions  stationed  themselves  in  tli« 
front  rank  of  the  crowd,  and  patiently  awaited  the  commencement  ot 
the  proceedings.  The  throng  was  increasing  every  moment ;  and  th^ 
efforts  they  were  compelled  to  make,  to  retain  the  position  they  had 
gained,  sufficiently  occupied  their  attention  during  the  two  hours  that 
ensued.  At  one  time  there  was  a  sudden  pressure  from  behind  ;  and 
then  Mr.  Pickwick  was  jerked  forward  for  several  yards,  with  a  degree 
of  speed  and  elasticity  highly  inconsistent  with  the  general  gravity  of 
his  demeanour;  at  another  moment  there  w^  a  request  to  "keep 
!>ack"  from  the  front,  and  then  the  butt  end  of  a  musket  >vas  either 
dropped  upon  Mr.  Pickwick'^  too,  to  remind  hiin  of  the  demand,  or 
-thrust  into  his  chest  to  ensure  its  being  complied  w  ith.  Then  some 
facetious  gentlemen  on  the  left,  after  pressing  sideways  in  a  body,  and 
squeezing  Mr.  Snodgrass  into  the  very  last, extreme  of  human  torture, 
would  request  to  know  "  vere  he  vos  a  6ho\  in'  to,"  and  when  Mr. 
Winkle  had  done  expressing  his  excessive  indignation  at  witnessing 
'this  unprovoked  assault,  some  person  behind  would  knock  his  hat  over 
his  eyes,  and  beg  the  favour  of  his  putting  his  head  in  bis  pocket. 
These,  and  other  practical  witticisms,  coupled  with  the  unaccountable 
absence  of  Mr,  Tupman  (who  had  suddenly  disappeared,  and  was 
nowhere  to  be  found),  rendered  their  situation  upon  the  whole  ratl^er 
more  uncomfortable,  than  pleasing  or  desirable. 

At  length  that  low  roar  of  many  voices  ran  through  the  crowd, 
which  nsually  announces  the  arrival  of  whatever  they  have  been 
waiting  for.  All  eyes  were  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  sally-port. 
A  few  moments  of  eager  expectation,  and  colours  were  seen  fluttering 
gaily  in  the  air,  arms  glistened  brightly  in  the  sun :  column  at'tor 
column  poured  on  to  the  plain.  The  troops  halted  and  formed  ;  ir^i. 
word  of  command  rung  through  the  line,  there  was  a  general  clash  o> 
muskets,  as  arms  were  presented  ;  and  the  commander-in-chief,  attended 
hy  Colonel  Bulder  and  numerous  oAcers  cantered  to  the  front.     Th^ 

¥ 


36  POSTHUMOUS    "'VPERS    ot 

military  bands  struck  up  altogether:  i he  horses  stood  n pen  two  leg-3 
each,  cantered  backwards,  and  whisked  their  tails  about  in  all  direc- 
tions :  the  dogs  barked,  the  mob  screamed,  the  troops  recovered,  and 
nothing  was  to  be  seen  on  either  side,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  but 
a  long  perspective  of  red  coats  and  white  trousers,  fixed  and  motionless. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  so  fully  occupied  in  falling  about,  and  disen- 
tangling himself,  miraculously,  from  between  the  legs  of  horses,  that 
he  had  not  enjoyed  sufficient  leisure  to  observe  the  scene  before  him, 
until  it  assumed  the  appearance  we  have  just  described.  When  he  was 
at  last  enabled  to  stand  firmly  on  his  legs,  his  gratification  and  dehght 
were  unbounded. 

"Can  anything  be  finer,  or  more  delightful?"  he  inquired  of  Mr 
Winkle. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  that  gentleman,  who  had  had  a  short  man 
standing  on  each  of  his  feet, for  the  quarter  of  an  hour  immediately 
preceding. 

"  It  is  indeed  a  noble  and  a  brilliant  sight,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  in 
whose  bosom  a  blaze  of  poetry  was  rapidly  bursting  forth,  "  to  see  the 
gallant  defenders  of  their  country,  drawn  up  in  brilliant  array  before  its 
peaceful  citizens  :  their  faces  beaming — not  with  warlike  ferocity,  but 
with  civilized  gentleness:  their  eyes  Hashing — not  with  the  rude  fire 
of  rapine  or  revenge,  but  with  the  soft  light  of  humanity  and  intel- 
ligence." 

Mr.  Pickwick  fully  entered  into  the  spirit  of  this  eulogium,  but  he 
could  not  exactly  re-echo  its  terras  ;  for  the  soft  light  of  intelligence 
burnt  rather  feebly  in  the  eyes  of  the  warriors,  inasmuch  as  the  com- 
mand *'  eyes  front"  had  been  given  ;  and  all  the  spectator  saw  before 
him  was  several  thousand  pair  of  optics,  staring  straight  forward,  wholly 
divested  of  any  expression  whatever. 

"  We  are  in  a  capital  situation,  now,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking 
round  him.  The  crowd  had  gradually  dispersed  from  their  immediate 
vicinity,  and  they  were  nearly  alone. 

'*  Capital  \"  echoed  both  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  What  are  they  doing  now  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  adjusting  his 
spectacles. 

"  I — I — rather  think,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  changing  colour — "  I 
rather  think  they're  going  to  fire." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily. 

"I — I — really  think  they  are,"  urged  Mr.  Snodgrass,  somewhat 
alarmed. 

"  Impossible,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  had  hardly  uttered  the 
vfor^f  when  the  whole  half  dozen  regiments  levelled  their  muskets  as 
if  they  had  but  one  common  object,  and  that  object  the  Pickwickians ; 
and  burst  forth  with  the  most  awful  and  tremendous  discharge,  that 
ever  shook  the  earth  to  its  centre,  or  an  elderly  gentleman  off  his. 

It  was  in  this  trying  situation,  exposed  to  a  galling  tire  of  blank  car- 
tridges, and  harassed  by  the  operations  of  the  military,  a  fresh  body  of 
whom  had  begun  to  fall  in,  on  the  opposite  side,  that  Mr.  Pickwick 
displayed  that  perfect  coolness  and  self-possession,  which  are  the  indis- 
pensable accompaniments  of  a  great  mind.     He  seized  Mr.  Winkle  by 


\ 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  37 

the  arm,  and  placing  liimself  between  that  gentleman  and  IMr.  Snod- 
grass,  earnestly  besought  them  to  remember  that  beyond  the  possibility 
o(  being  rendered  deaf  by  the  noise,  there  was  no  immediate  danger  to 
he  apprehended  from  the  firing. 

"  Rut — but — suppose  some  of  the  men  should  happen  to  have  bull 
rartridges  by  mistake,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Winkle,  pallid  at  the  suppo- 
•ition  he  was  himself  conjuring  up.  "  I  heard  something  whistle 
Uirough  the  air  just  now — so  sharp:  close  to  my  ear." 

"  We  had  better  throw  ourselves  on  our  faces,  hadn't  we.^"  said  Mr. 
Snodgrass. 

*'  No,  no — it's  over  now,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  His  lip  might  quiver, 
and  his  cheek  might  blanch,  but  no  expression  of  tear  or  concern 
escaped  the  lips  of  that  immortal  man. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  right :  the  firing  ceased ;  but  he  had  scarcely 
time  to  congratulate  himself  on  the  accuracy  of  his  opinion,  when  a 
quick  movement  was  visible  in  the  line:  the  hoarse  shout  of  the  word 
of  command  ran  along  it,  and  before  either  of  the  party  could  form  a 
guess  at  the  meaning  of  this  new  manoeuvre,  the  whole  of  the  half 
dozen  regiments,  witli  fixed  bayonets,  charged  at  double  quick  time 
down  upon  the  very  spot  on  which  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  were 
stationed. 

Man  is  but  mortal;  and  there  is  a  point  beyond  which  human  cou- 
rage cannot  extend.  Mr.  Pickwick  gazed  through  his  spectacles  for  an 
instant  on  the  advancing  mass ;  and  then  fairly  turned  his  back  and — 
we  will  not  say  fled  ;  first,  because  it  is  an  ignoble  term,  and,  secondly, 
because  Mr.  Pickwick's  figure  was  by  no  means  adapted  for  that  mode 
of  retreat — he  trotted  away,  at  as  quick  a  rate  as  his  legs  would  convey 
him  ;  so  quickly,  indeed,  that  he  did  not  perceive  the  awkwardness  of 
his  situation,  to  the  full  extent,  nntil  too  late. 

The  opposite  troops,  whose  falling-in  had  perplexed  Mr.  Pickwick  a 
few  seconds  before,  were  drawn  up  to  repel  the  mimic  attack  of  the 
sham  besiegers  of  the  citadel ;  and  the  consequence  was,  that  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  his  two  companions  found  themselves  suddenly  inclosed 
between  two  lines  of  great  length  ;  the  one  advancing  at  a  rapid  pace, 
and  the  other  firmly  waiting  the  collision  in  hostile  array. 

"  Hoi  !"  shouted  the  officers  of  the  advancing  line  — 

"  Get  out  of  the  way,"  cried  the  officers  of  the  stationary  one. 

"  Where  are  we  to  go  to?"  screamed  the  agitated  Pickwickians. 

"  Hoi — hoi — hoi,"  was  the  only  reply.  There  was  a  moment  o{ 
intense  bewilderment,  a  heavy  tramp  of  footsteps,  a  violent  concussion ; 
a  smothered  laugh — the  half  dozen  regiments  were  half  a  thousand 
yards  off;  and  the  soles  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  boots  were  elevated  in  air. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  had  each  performed  a  compulsory 
summerset  with  remarkable  agility,  when  the  first  object  that  met  the 
eyes  of  the  latter  as  he  sat  on  the  ground,  staunching  with  a  yellow 
silk  handkerchief  the  stream  of  life  which  issued  from  his  nose,  was  his 
venerated  leader  at  some  distance  off,  running  after  his  own  hat>  whicl" 
was  gambolling  playfully  away  in  perspective. 

There  are  very  few  moments  in  a  man's  existence,  when  he  expe- 
riences 60  murh  ludicrous  distress,  or  meets  with  so  little  charitable 


i^^  teiSTHUMdUS    PAPERS    OF 

commiseration,  as  wheh  he  is  in  pursuit  of  his  own  hat.  A  vast  deal 
ot  coolness,  and  a  peculiar  degree  of  judgment,  are  requisite  in  catehing 
a  hat.  A  man  must  not  be  precipitate,  or  he  runs  over  it :  he  must 
iiot  rush  into  the  opposite  extreme,  or  he  loses  it  altogTether,  The  best 
way  is,  to  keep  gently  Up  with  the  object  of  pursuit,  to  be  wary  and 
cautious,  to  watch  yoUr  opportunity  well,  get  gradually  before  it,  then 
make  a  rapid  dive,  seii^e  it  by  the  crown,  and  stick  it  firmly  on  your 
head :  smiling  pleasantly  all  the  time,  as  if  you  thought  it  as  good  a 
ioke  as  anybody  else. 

There  was  a  fine  gentle  wind,  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  hat  rolled 
sportively  before  it.  The  wind  ptiifed,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  puffed,  and 
the  hat  rolled  over  and  over  as  hierrily  as  a  lively  porpoise  in  a  strong 
tide ;  and  on  it  might  have  rolled,  far  beyond  Mr.  Pickwick's  reach^ 
had  not  its  course  been  providentially  stopped,  just  as  that  gentleman 
was  on  the  point  of  refeignin^  it  tb  its  fate. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  vv6  say,  ivias  completely  exhausted,  artd  about  to  give 
up  the  chase,  when  the  hat  Vvas  blown  with  some  violence  against  the 
wheel  of  a  cari-iage,  which  was  draWh  up  in  a  line  with  half-a-dozen 
other  vehicles,  on  the  spot  id  which  his  steps  had  been  directed.  Mr. 
Pickwick,  perceivings  his  advantage,  darted  briskly  forward,  SBcure^d  his 
property,  planted  it  on  his  head,  and  paused  to  take  breath.  He 
had  not  been  stationary  half  a  hiin'^te^  when  he  heard  his  own  name 
eagerly  pronounced  by  a  voice,  which  he  at  once  recognised  as  Mr. 
TupUian's,  and,  looking  upwards,  he  beheld  a  sight  which  filled  hira 
Vvith  surprise  and  pleasure. 

In  an  open  barouche,  the  horses  of  which  had  been  taken  oat,  the 
better  to  accommodate  it't6  the  crowded  place,  stood  a  stotitold  gsentk" 
Inan,  in  a  blue  coat  and  bright  buttons,  corderoy  breeches  and  top 
boots,  two  young  ladies  in  Scarfs  ai^d  featlters,  a  youivg  gentleman 
apparently  enamoured  of  one  of  the  young  ladies  in  scarfe  and  feathers, 
a  lady  of  doubtful  age,  probably  tfee  aulit  of  the  aforesaid,  and  Mr. 
Tu])man,  as  easy  and  unconcejrned  as  if  he  had  belonged  to  the  family 
'from  the  first  moments  of  Wis  infartcy.  Fastened  up  behind  the  Wouche 
was  a  hafnper  of  spacious  ^mensi^^ns — one  of  those  hampers  which 
always  awakens  in  a  contemplative  "rtiind,  associations  csouftected  with 
cold  fowls,  tongue,  and  bottles  of  wine — ^and  on  the  box  sat  a  fat  and 
red-faCed  boy,  in  a  state  of  somnolelicy,  whom  no  speculative  observer 
could  have  regarded  for  an  inf^aht 'without  Setting  down  as  the  official 
dispenser  6f  the  contents  of  'the  befdre-nientioned  hamper,  when  th^ 
proper  time  for  their  consumption  ishottld  a^rrive. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  bestotved  a  hasty  -g^latice  on  thfesfe  rttterestii% 
objects,  when  he  was  again  gteeted  by  4iis  faithftfl  disciple. 

"  l^ickvvick— Pickwick,"  said  I^r.  tufpmah  ;  "  come  tip  here.    Make 

haste." 

^  Come  along,  'Sir.  Pray,  Come  Up/'  ^dd  the  stoUt  gentleman, 
«  Joe! — damn  that  boy,  he's  gone  to  sleep  %gain.-^-Joe,  let  down  the 
steps."  The  fat  boy  rolled  slowly  6ff  the  box,  let  down  the  steps,  and 
held  the  carriage  door  invitingly  open.  Mr.^nodgrass  and  Mr.  WinkVe 
Vatiie  up  at  the  mbhaent. 

*'  Room  for  y bu  %11,  gentlfehiieh,"  said  the  stout  man.    ♦«  Two  inside, 


-jyT, 


J8 


p. 


■^ 


^M 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB  Af 

an<l  uhe  out.  Joe,  make  room  for  one  of  these  gentlemen  on  the  box. 
Now,  Sir,  comeulong;"  and  the  slout  gentleman  extended  his  arm, 
tnd  pulled  first  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  then  Mr.  SnoUgrass,  into  the 
l>arouche  by  main  force.  Mr.  Winkle  mounted  to  the  box,  the  fat  boy 
waddled  to  the  same  perch,  and  fell  fast  asleep  instantly. 

**  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  the  stout  man,  "  very  glud  to  see  you. 
Know  you  very  well,  gentlemen,  though  you  mayn't  remember  me. 
I  spent  some  ev'nins  at  your  club  last  winter — picked  up  my  friend 
Mr.  Tupman  here  this  morning,  and  very  glad  I  was  to  see  him.  Well, 
Sir,  and  how  are  you  ?     You  do  look  uncommon  well,  to  be  sure." 

Mr.  Pickwick  acknowledged  the  compliment,  and  cordially  shook 
hands  with  the  stout  gentleman  in  the  top  boots. 

"  Well,  and  how  are  you.  Sir?"  said  tlie  stout  gentleman,  addressing 
Mr.  Snodgrass  with  paternal  anxiety.  "  Charming,  eh  ?  Well,  that's 
right — that's  right.  And  how  are  you,  Sir  (to  Mr.  Winkle)  ?  Well, 
I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  you  are  well ;  very  glad  I  am,  to  be  sure. 
My  daughters,  gentlemen — my  gals  these  are;  and  that's  ray  sister, 
Miss  Uachael  Wardle.  She's  a  Miss,  she  is ;  and  yet  she  an't  a  Miss 
— eh,  Sir — eh?"  And  the  stout  gentleman  playfully  inserted  his 
elbow  between  the  ribs  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  laughed  very  heartily. 

**  Lor,  brother?"  said  Miss  Wardle,  with  a  deprecating  smile. 

"  True,  true,"  said  the  stout  gentleman  ;  "  no  one  can  deny  it. 
tientlemeiv,  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  this  is  ray  friend  Mr.  Trundle.  And 
now  you  all  know  each  other,  let's  be  comfortable  and  happy,  and  see 
tvbat's  going  forward  ;  that's  what  I  say."  So  the  stout  gentleman  put 
on  his  spectacles,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  pulled  out  his  glass,  and  everybody 
stood  up  in  the  carriage,  and  looked  over  somebody  else's  shoulder  at 
the  evolutions  of  the  military. 

Astounding  evolutions  they  were,  one  rank  firing  over  the  heads  at 
another  rank,  and  then  running  away  ;  and  then  the  other  rank  firing- 
over  the  heads  of  another  rank,  and  running  away  in  their  turn  ;  and 
then  fonniBg  squares,  with  officers  in  the  centre ;  and  then  descendir^ 
the  trench  on  one  side  wrth  scaling  ladders,  and  rascending  it  on  the 
-other  agtiin  by  the  same  means;  and  knocking  down  barricades  of 
baskets,  and  behaving  in  the  most  gallant  manner  possible.  Then  there 
was  such  a  ramming  down  of  the  contents  of  enormous  ^uns  .on  ihe. 
l>«ttery,  with  instruments  like  magnified  mops ;  such  a  preparation 
before  they  were  let  off,  and  such  an  awful  noise  when  they  did  go,  that 
the  air  resounded  with  the  screams  of  ladies-  The  young  iSIi^Js  Wardles 
were  so  frightened,  that  Mr.  Trundle  was  actually  obliged  to  hold  one 
of  them  up  in  the  carriage,  while  Mr.  Snodgrass  supported  the  other  , 
and  Mr.  "Wardle's  sister  suffered  under  such  a  dread^l  state  of  nervous 
alarm,  that  Mr.  Tupman  found  it  indispensably  necessary  to  put  his  arm 
round  her  waist,  to  keep  her  up  at  all.  Everybody  was  excited,  exeojit 
Wie  fat  boy,  and  he  slept  as  soundly  as  if  the  roaring  of  cannon  were 
his  ordinary  lullaby. 

**  Joe,  Joe!"  said  the  stout  gentleman,  when  the  citadel  was  ti»ken, 
und  the  besiegers  and  besieged  sat  down  to  dinner.  "  Damn  that  ])oy, 
he's  gone  to  sleep  again.     Be  good  enough  to  pinch  him.  Sir — in  the 


40  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

leg,  if  you  p.ease ;  nothing  else  wakes  him — thank  you.  Undo  the 
hamper,  Joe." 

The  fat  hoy,  who  had  been  effectually  roused  by  the  compression  of 
a  portion  of  his  -leg,  between  the  finger  and  thumb  of  Mr.  Winkle, 
rolled  off  the  box  once  again,  and  proceeded  to  unpack  the  hamper, 
with  more  expedition  than  could  have  been  expected  from  his  previous 
inactivity. 

"  Now,  we  must  sit  close,"  said  the  stout  gentleman.  After  a  great 
many  jokes  about  squeezing  the  ladies'  sleeves,  and  a  vast  quantity  of 
blushing  at  sundry  jocose  proposals,  that  the  ladies  should  sit  in  the 
gentlemen's  laps,  the  whole  party  were  stowed  down  in  the  })arouche ; 
and  the  stout  gentleman  proceeded  to  hand  the  things  from  the  fat  boy 
(who  had  mounted  up  behind  for  the  purpose)  into  the  carriage. 

"  Now,  Joe,  knives  and  forks."  The  knives  and  forks  were  handed 
in,  and  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  inside,  and  Mr.  Winkle  on  the  box, 
were  each  furnished  with  those  useful  implements 

"  Plates,  Joe,  plates."  A  similar  process  employed  in  the  distribution 
of  the  crockery. 

"  Now,  Joe,  the  fowls.  Damn  that  boy  ;  he's  gone  to  sleep  again. 
Joe  !  Joe  !"  (Sundry  taps  on  the  head  with  a  stick,  and  the  fat  boy, 
with  some  difficulty,  roused  from  his  lethargy).  "  Come,  hand  in  the 
eatables." 

There  was  something  in  the  sound  of  the  last  word,  which  roused  the 
unctuous  boy.  He  jumped  up:  and  the  leaden  eyes,  which  twinkled 
behind  his  mountainous  cheeks,  leered  horribly  upon  the  food  as  he 
unpacked  it  from  the  basket. 

"  Now,  make  haste,"  said  Mr.  Wardle ;  for  the  fat  boy  was  hanging 
fondly  over  a  capon,  which  he  seemed  wholly  unable  to  part  with.  The 
hoy  sighed  deeply,  and,  bestowing  an  ardent  gaze  upon  its  plumpness, 
unwillingly  consigned  it  to  his  master. 

"  That's  right — look  sharp.  Now  the  tongue— now  the  pigeon-pie. 
Take  care  of  that  veal  and  ham — mind  the  lobsters — take  the  salad  out 
of  the  cloth — give  me  the  dressing."  Such  were  the  hurried  orders 
which  issued  from  the  lips  of  Mr.  Wardle,  as  he  handed  in  the  different 
articles  described,  and  placed  dishes  in  everybody's  hands,  and  on 
everybody's  knees,  in  endless  number. 

"Now,  aint  this  capital?"  inquired  that  jolly  personage,  when 
the  work  of  destruction  had  commenced. 

*•  Capital ! "  said  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  carving  a  fowl  on  the  box. 

*'  Glass  of  wine  ?" 

*'  With  the  greatest  pleasure." 

*'  You'd  better  have  a  bottle  to  yourself,  up  there,  hadn't  you  ?" 

**  You're  very  good." 

"Joe!" 

"  Yes,  Sir."  (He  wasn't  asleep  this  time,  having  just  succeeded  in 
abstracting  a  veal  patty). 

"  Bottle  of  wine  to  the  gentleman  on  the  box.    Glad  to  see  you,  Sir." 

"  Thankee."  Mr.  Winkle  emptied  his  glass,  and  placed  the  bottle 
on  the  coach- box,  by  his  side. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  4^ 

*♦  Will  you  permit  nie  to  Lave  the  pleasure.  Sir?"  flaiJ  Mr.  Trundle 
to  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle  to  Mr.  Trundle;  an<l 
then  the  two  gentlemen  took  wine,  after  which  they  took  a  glass  of  wiuc! 
round,  ladies  and  all. 

**  How  dear  Emily  is  flirting  with  the  strange  gentleman,"  whispered 
the  spinster  aunt,  with  true  spinster-aunt-like  envy,  to  her  brother 
Mr.  Wardle. 

**  Oh  I  I  don't  know,"  said  the  jolly  old  gentleman  ;  "  all  very 
natural,  I  dare  say — nothing  unusual.  Mr.  Pickwick,  some  wine,  Sir?" 
Mr.  Piekwick,  who  had  been  deeply  investigating  the  interior  of  the 
pigeon-pie,  readily  assented. 

"  Emily,  my  dear,"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  with  a  patronising  air, 
"  don't  talk  so  loud,  love." 

*•  Lor,  aunt !" 

"  Aunt  and  the  little  old  gentleman  want  to  have  it  all  to  them- 
selves, 1  think,"  whispered  Miss  Isabella  Wardle  to  her  sister  Emily. 
The  young  ladies  laughed  very  heartily,  and  the  old  one  tried  to 
look  amiable,  but  couldn't  manage  it. 

"  Young  girls  have  such  spirits,"  said  Miss  W^ardle  to  Mr. 
Tupman,  with  an  air  of  gentle  commiseration,  as  if  animal  spirits 
were  contraband,  and  their  possessiou  without  a  permit,  a  high  crime 
liud  misdemeanour. 

♦*  Oh,  they  have,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  not  exactly  making  the  sort 
of  reply  that  was  expected  from  him.     "  It's  quite  delightful." 

"  Hem  !"  said  Miss  W'ardle,  rather  dubiously. 

"  Will  you  permit  me,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  in  his  blandest  manner, 
touching  the  enchanting  Rachael's  wrist  with  one  hand,  and  gently 
elevating  the  bottle  w  ith  the  other.      "  Will  you  permit  me  ?  " 

"Oh,  Sir!"  Mr.  Tupman  looked  most  impressive;  and  Rachael  ex- 
pressed her  fear  that  more  guns  were  going  off,  in  which  case,  of  course, 
she  would  have  required  support  again. 

"  Do  you  think  my  dear  nieces  pretty?  "  whispered  their  affectionate 
aunt  to  Mr.  Tupman. 

•'  I  should,  if  their  aunt  wasn't  here,"  replied  the  ready  Pickwickian, 
with  a  passionate  glance. 

"  Oh,  you  naughty  man — but  really,  if  their  complexions  were  a 
Uttle  better,  don't  you  think  they  would  be  nice-looking  girls — by 
candle-light  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  think  they  would  ;"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  with  an  air  of 
indifference. 

"  Ou,  you  quiz — 1  know  what  you  were  going  to  say." 

"  What?  "  inquired  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  not  precisely  made  up 
his  mind  to  say  anything  at  all. 

"  You  were  going  to  say,  that  Isabella  stoops — I  know  you  were— 
you  men  are  such  observers.  Well,  so  she  does  ;  it  can't  be  denied  ; 
and,  certainly,  if  there  is  one  thing  more  than  another  that  makes  a 
girl  look  ugly,  it  is  stooping.  I  often  tell  her,  that  when  she  gets  a 
little  older,  she'll  be  quite  frightful.     Well,  you  are  a  quiz  I** 


42  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OP 

Mr.  Tupman  had  no  objection  to  earning  the  reputation  at  so  clieap  a 
rate  :  so  he  looked  very  knowing,  and  smiled  mysteriously. 

*<Whata  saresistic  smile/' said  the  admiring  Rachael;  "I  declare 
I'm  quite  afraid  of  you." 

"  Afraid  of  me  !  " 

"  Oh,  you  can't  disguise  any  thing  from  me — I  know  wiaat  that 
smile  means,  Very  well." 

"  What  ?  "  said  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  not  the  slightest  notion 
himself. 

"  You  mean,"  said  the  amiable  aunt,  sinking  her  voice  still  lower — 
"  You  mean,  that  you  don't  tbink  Isabella's  stooping  is  as  bad  as 
Emily's  boldness.  Well,  she  is  bold  !  You  cannot  think  how  wretched 
it  makes  me  sometimes — ^^I'm  sure  I  cry  about  it  for  hours  together — 
my  dear  brother  is  so  good,  and  so  unsuspicious,  that  he  never  sees  it ; 
if  he  did,  I'm  quite  certain  it  would  break  his  heart.  I  wish  I  could 
think  it  was  only  manner — I  hope  it  may  be — "  (here  the  affectionate 
relative  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  shook  her  head  despondingly). 

"  I'm  sure  aunt's  talking  about  us,"  whispered  Miss  Emily  Wardle 
to  her  sister — "  I  m  quite  certain  of  it — &he  looks  so  malicious." 

"  Is  she  ?  "  replied  Isabella — "  Hem  !  aunt,  dear !  " 

*'  Yes,  my  dear  love  !  " 

"  I'm  so  afraid  you'll  catch  cold,  aunt — ^have  a  silk  handerchief  to 
tie  round  your  dear  old  head — you  really  should  take  care  of  yourself — 
consider  your  age  !  " 

However  well'deserved  this  piece  of  retaliation  might  have  been,  it 
was  as  vindictive  a  one  as  could  well  have  'been  resorted  to.  There  is 
tio  guessing  in  what  form  of  reply  the  aunt's  indignation  would  have 
vented  itself,  had  not  Mr.  Wardle  unconsciously  changed  the  subject, 
by  calling  enrphatically  for  Joe. 

"  Damn  that  boy,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  he's  gone  to  sleep 
"agafn." 

'*  Very  extraordinary  boy,  that,"  said  Mr.  'Pickwick,  "  does  h=e  "always 
sleep  in  this  w»ay  ?  " 

"  Sle^p  I  "  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  he's  always -asleep.  Goes  on 
errands  fast  asleep,  and  ^ntJtes  as  he  ^waits  at 'tafble." 

*'  How  very  odd  !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Ah!  odd  indeed,"  returned  the  old  gentleman ;"  I'm  proud  of  that 
boy — wouldn't  part  with  him  on  any  account — -damme,  he's  a  natural 
curiosity  I  Here,  Joe — Joe — take  these  things  away,  and  open  another 
'bottle — d'ye  heat?" 

The  fat  boy  rose,  opened  his  eyes,  swallowed  the  huge 'piece  of  pie 
he  had  been  iti  the  act  of  masticating  when  he  last  fell  asleep,  and 
f-lowly  obeyed  his  master's  orders-^gloating  languidly- over  the  remains 
of  the  feast,  as  he  removed  the  plates,  and  deposited  them  in  the  liam- 
per.  The  fresh  bottle  was  produced,  and  speedily  emptied  :  tho  hamper 
was  made  fast  in  its  old  place-^the  fat  boy  once  more  mounted  the  box 
— the  spectacles  and  pocket-glass  were  again  adjusted— ^and  the  ovol*i- 
lutioiis  of  the  military  recommenced.  There  was  a  great  fizzing  and 
banging  of 'giHis,  and  starting- of  ladies— and  then  a  mine. was  f5pruB»g, 


TIIK    IMCRWICK    CLUB.  43 

to  the  pratificution  of  every  botly — aiul  when  the  mine  bad  gone  off, 
the  military  and  the  company  followed  its  example,  and  went  off  too. 

*<  Now,  mind,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  as  be  shook  hands  with  Mr. 
Pickwick  at  the  conclnsion  of  a  conversation  which  had  been  carried  on 
at  intervals,  during  the  conclusion  of  the  proceedings — **  we  shall  see 
you  all  to-morrow." 

"  Most  certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  You  have  got  the  address  ?  " 

"  Manor  Farm,  Dingley  Dell,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  consulting  his 
pocket-book. 

"  That's  it,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "  I  don't  let  you  off,  mind, 
under  a  week  ;  and  undertake  that  you  shall  see  everything  worth  see- 
ing. If  you've  come  down  for  a  country  life,  come  to  me,  and  I'll  give 
you  plenty  of  it.  Joe — damn  that  boy,  he's  gone  to  sleep  again — Joe, 
help  Tom  put  in  the  horses." 

The  horses  were  put  in — the  driver  mounted — the  fat  boy  clambered 
up  by  his  side — farewells  were  exchanged — and  the  carriage  rattled  off. 
As  the  Pickwickians  turned  round  to  take  a  last  glimpse  of  it,  the  set- 
ting sun  cast  a  rich  glow  on  the  faces  of  their  entertainers,  and  fell 
upon  the  form  of  the  fat  boy.  His  head  was  sunk  upon  his  bosom  ;  and 
he  slumbered  again. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A     SHORT     ONE SHOWING,     AMONG     OTHER     MATTERS,     HOW     MR. 

PICKWICK     UNDERTOOK    TO    DRIVE,    AND     MR.    WINKLE    TO     RIDE; 
AND    HOW  THEY  BOTH   DID  IT. 

Bright  and  pleasant  was  the  sky,  balmy  the  air,  and  beautiful  the 
appearance  of  every  object  around,  as  Mr.  Pickwick  leant  over  the 
balustrades  of  Rochester  Bridge,  contemplating  nature,  and  waiting  for 
breakfast.  The  scene  was  indeed  one,  which  might  well  have  charmed 
a  far  less  reflective  mind,  than  that  to  which  it  was  presented. 

On  the  left  of  the  spectator  lay  the  ruined  wall,  broken  in  many 
places,  and  in  some,  overhanging  the  narrow  beach  below  in  rude  and 
heavy  masses.  Huge  knots  of  sea-weed  hung  upon  the  jagged  and 
j)ointed  stones,  trembling  in  every  breath  of  wind;  and  the  green  ivy 
clung  mournfully  round  the  dark,  and  ruined  battlements.  Behind 
it  rose  the  ancient  castle,  its  towers  roofless,  and  its  massive  walls 
crumbling  away,  but  telling  us  proudly  of  its  old  might  and  strength, 
as  when,  seven  hundred  years  ago,  it  rang  with  the  clash  of  arms,  or 
resounded  with  the  noise  of  feasting  and  revelry.  On  either  side,  the 
banks  of  the  Medway,  covered  with  corn-fields  and  pastures,  with  here 
and  there  a  windmill,  or  a  distant  church,  stretched  away  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  see,  presenting  a  rich  and  varied  landscape,  rendered  more 
beautiful  by  the  changing  shadows  which  passed  swifily  across  it,  as 
the  thin  and  half- formed  clouds  skimmed  away  in  the  light  of  the 
morning  sun.  The  river,  reflecting  the  clear  blue  of  the  sky,  glistened 
and  iparkled  as  it  flowed  noiselessly  on  ;  and  the  oars  of  the  fishern  eu 

o 


44  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

dipped  into  the  water  with  a  clear  and  liquid  sound,  as  their  heavy  but 
picturesque  boats  glided  slowly  down  the  stream. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  roused  from  the  agreeable  reverie  into  which  he 
had  been  led  by  the  objects  before  him,  by  a  deep  sigh,  and  a  touch  on 
his  shoulder.     He  turned  round  :  and  the  dismal  man  was  at  his  side. 

«  Contemplating  the  scene  ?  "  inquired  the  dismal  man. 

*'  I  was,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  And  congratulating  yourself  on  being  up  so  soon  ?  "  Mr.  Pickwick 
nodded  assent. 

"  Ah  I  people  need  to  rise  early,  to  see  the  sun  in  all  his  splendour, 
far  his  brightness  seldom  lasts  the  day  through.  The  morning  of  day 
and  the  morning  of  life  are  but  too  much  alike." 

"  You  speak  truly,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  How  common  the  saying,"  continued  the  dismal  man,  "  *  The 
morning 's  too  tine  to  last.'  How  well  might  it  be  applied  to  our  every- 
day existence.  God  I  what  would  I  forfeit  to  have  the  days  of  my 
childhood  restored,  or  to  be  able  to  forget  them  for  ever!  " 

"  You  have  seen  much  trouble,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  com* 
passionately. 

"  I  have,"  said  the  dismal  man,  hurriedly ;  "  I  have.  More  than 
those  who  see  me  now  would  believe  possible."  He  paused  for  an 
instant,  and  then  said,  abruptly, 

"  Did  it  ever  strike  you,  on  such  a  morning  as  this,  that  drowning 
would  be  happiness  and  peace  ?  " 

"God  bless  me,  no!"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  edging  a  little  from 
the  balustrade,  as  the  possibility  of  the  dismal  man's  tipping  him  over, 
l>y  way  of  experiment,  occurred  to  him  rather  forcibly. 

"  /  have  thought  so,  often,"  said  the  dismal  man,  without  noticing 
the  action.  "  The  calm,  cool  water  seems  to  me  to  murngur  an  invita- 
tion to  repose  and  rest.  A  bound,  a  splash,  a  brief  struggle  ;  there  is 
an  eddy  for  an  instant,  it  gradually  subsides  into  a  gentle  ripple ;  the 
Waters  have  closed  above  your  head,  and  the  world  has  closed  upon  your 
miseries  and  misfortunes  for  ever."  The  sunken  eye  of  the  dismal 
man  flashed  brightly  as  he  spoke,  but  the  momentary  excitement  quickly 
subsided ;  and  he  turned  calmly  away,  as  he  said — 

"  There — enough  of  that.  I  wished  to  see  you  on  another  subject. 
You  invited  me  to  read  that  paper,  the  night  before  last,  and  listened 
attentively  while  I  did  so." 

"  I  did,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  and  I  certainly  thought " 

"  I  asked  for  no  opinion,"  said  the  dismal  man,  interrupting  him, 
"  and  I  want  none.  You  are  travelling  for  amusement  and  instruction. 
Suppose  I  forwarded  you  a  curious  manuscript — observe,  not  curious 
because  wild  or  improbable,  but  curious  as  a  leaf  from  the  romance  of 
real  life.  Would  you  communicate  it  to  the  club,  of  which  you  have 
spoken  so  frequently?" 

<*  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  if  you  wished  it ;  and  it  would 
be  entered  on  their  transactions." 

"  You  shall  have  it,"  replied  the  dismal  man.  "  Your  address ; " 
and,  Mr.  Pickwick  having  communicated  their  probable  route,  the 
dismal  man    carefully  noted  it  down   in    a   greasy   pocket-book,    and, 


HIE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  45 

resisting  Mr.  Pickwick's  pressing-  invitation  to  breakfast,  left  that  gen- 
tleman at  his  inn,  and  walked  slowly  away. 

Mr.  Pickwick  found  that  his  three  companions  had  risen,  and  were 
waiting  his  arrival  to  commence  hreakfast,  which  was  ready  laid  in 
tempting  display.  They  sat  down  to  the  meal;  and  broiled  ham,  eggn^ 
tea,  coffee,  and  sundries,  began  to  disappear  with  a  rapidity  which  at 
once  bore  testimony  to  the  excellence  of  the  fare,  and  the  appetites  of 
its  consumers. 

**  Now,  about  Manor  Farm,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  How  shall  we 
go? 

**  We  had  better  consult  the  waiter,  perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Tupman  ; 
and  the  waiter  was  summoned  accordingly. 

*'  Dingley  Dell,  gentlemen — fifteen  miles,  gentlemen — cross  road — 
postchaise.  Sir?  " 

'•  Post-chaise  won't  hold  more  than  two,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  True,  Sir — beg  your  pardon.  Sir. — Very  nice  four-wheel  chaise, 
Sir — seat  for  two  behind — one  in  front  for  the  gentleman  that  drives — 
oh  !  beg  your  pardon,  Sir — that'll  only  hold  three." 

**  What's  to  be  done  ?  "  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Perhaps  one  of  the  gentlemen  like  to  ride,  Sir,"  suggested  the 
waiter,  looking  towards  Mr.  Winkle ;  **  very  good  saddle  horses.  Sir — 
any  of  Mr.  Wardle's  men  coming  to  Rochester,  bring  'em  back.  Sir." 

'*  The  very  thing,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Winkle,  will  you  go  on 
horseback  ?  " 

Now  Mr.  Winkle  did  entertain  considerable  misgivings  in  the  very 
lowest  recesses  of  his  own  heart,  relative  to  his  equestrian  skill ;  but,  as 
he  would  not  have  them  even  suspected  on  any  account,  he  at  once 
replied  with  great  hardihood,  "  Certainly.  I  should  enjoy  it,  of  all 
things." 

Mr.  Winkle  had  rushed  upon  his  fate ;  there  was  no  resource. 
**  Let  them  be  at  the  door  by  eleven,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

**  Very  well.  Sir,"  replied  the  waiter. 

The  waiter  retired ;  the  breakfast  concluded ;  and  the  travellers 
ascended  to  their  respective  bedrooms,  to  prepare  a  change  of  clothing, 
to  take  with  them  on  their  approaching  expedition. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  made  his  preliminary  arrangements,  and  was 
looking  over  the  coffee-room  blinds  at  the  passengers  in  the 
street,  when  the  waiter  entered,  and  announced  that  the  chaise  was 
ready — an  announcement  which  the  vehicle  itself  confirmed,  by  forth- 
with appearing  before  the  coffee-room  blinds  aforesaid. 

It  was  a  curious  little  green  box  on  four  wheels,  with  a  low  place  like 
a  wine  bin  for  two  behind,  and  an  elevated  perch  for  one  in  front, 
drawn  by  an  immense  brown  horse,  displaying  great  symmetry  of  bone. 
An  hostler  stood  near  it,  holding  by  the  bridle  another  immense  horse — 
apparently  a  near  relative  of  the  animal  in  the  chaise — ready  saddled 
for  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Bless  my  soul  I  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  they  stood  upon  the  pave- 
ment while  the  coats  were  being  put  in.  "  Bless  my  soul !  who's  to 
drive  ?     I  never  thought  of  that." 

"  Oh  !  you,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Tupmao 


46  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OV 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mr,  Snodgrass. 

"  I !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 
,    «  Not  the  slightest  fear,  Sir,"  interposed  the  hostler.   '   Warrant  him 
quiet.  Sir ;  a  hinfant  in  arms  might  drive  him." 

"  He  don't  shy,  does  he  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Shy,  Sir? — He  wouldn't  shy  if  he  was  to  meet  a  vaggin-load  of 
monkeys,  with  their  tails  burnt  off." 

The  last  recommendation  was  indisputable.  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass  got  into  the  bin ;  Mr.  Pickwick  ascended  to  his  perch,  and 
deposited  his  feet  on  a  floor-clothed  shelf,  erected  beneath  it,  for  that 
purpose. 

"  Now,  shiny  Villiam,"  said  the  hostler  to  the  deputy  hostler,  "  give 
the  gen'lm'n  the  ribbins."  "  Shiny  Villiam"— so  called,  probably,  from 
his  sleek  hair  and  oily  countenance— placed  the  reins  in  Mr.  Pickwick's 
left  hand ;  and  the  upper  hostler  thrust  a  whip  into  his  right. 

"  Woo,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the  tall  quadruped  evinced  a  decided 
inclination  to  back  into  the  coffee-room  window. 

"  Wo — o,"  echoed  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  from  the  bin. 

"  Only  his  playfulness,  gen'lm'n,"  said  the  head  hostler,  encouragingly, 
"  jist  kitch  hold  on  him,  Villiam."  The  deputy  restrained  the  animal's 
impetuosity,  and  the  principal  ran  to  assist  Mr.  Winkle  in  mounting, 

"  T'other  side.  Sir,  if  you  please." 

"  Blowed  if  the  gen'lm'n  worn't  a  gettin'  up  on  the  wrong  side," 
whispered  a  grinning  post-boy,  to  the  inexpressibly  gratified  waiter. 

Mr.  Winkle,  thus  instructed,  climbed  into  his  saddle,  with  about  as 
much  diflficulty  as  he  would  have  experienced  in  getting  up  the  side  of 
a  first-rate  man-of-war. 

"  All  right  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  inward  presentiment 
that  it  was  all  wrong. 

"  All  right,''  replied  Mr.  Winkle  faintly. 

"  Let  'em  go,"  cried  the  hostler, — "  Hold  him  in.  Sir;"  and  away 
went  the  chaise,  and  the  saddle  horse,  with  Mr.  Pickwick  on  the  box 
of  the  one,  and  Mr.  Winkle  on  the  back  of  the  other,  to  the  delight 
and  gratification  of  the  whole  inn  yard. 

"  What  makes  him  go  sideways  ?  "  said  Mr.  Snodgrass  in  the  bin,  to 
Mr.  Winkle  in  the  saddle. 

"  I  can't  imagine,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  His  horse  was  going  up 
the  street  in  the  most  mysterious  manner — side  first,  with  his  head 
towards  one  side  of  the  way,  and  his  tail  to  the  other. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  no  leisure  to  observe  either  this,  or  any  other  par- 
ticular, the  whole  of  his  faculties  being  concentrated  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  animal  attached  to  the  chaise,  who  displayed  various 
peculiarities,  highly  interesting  to  a  by-stander,  but  by  no  means 
equally  amusing  to  any  one  seated  behind  him.  Besides  constantly 
jerking  his  head  up,  in  a  very  unpleasant  and  uncomfortable  manner, 
and  tugging  at  the  reins  to  an  extent  which  rendered  it  a  matter  of 
great  difi&culty  for  Mr.  Pickwick  to  hold  them,  he  had  a  singular  pro- 
pensity for  darting  suddenly  every  now  and  then  to  the  side  of  the 
road,  then  stopping  short,  and  then  rushing  forward  for  some  minuies, 
at  a  speed  which  it  was  wholly  impossible  to  control. 


THE    IMCKWICK    CLUB.  47 

"  What  can  he  mean  by  this?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  when  the  horse 
had  executed  this  manoeuvre  for  the  twentieth  time. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  IMr,  Tupman  ;  "  it  looks  very  like  shying, 
don't  it  ?'*  Mr.  Snodgrass  was  about  to  reply,  when  he  was  interrupted 
by  a  shout  from  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Woo,"  said  that  gentleman,  "  I  have  dropped  my  whip." 

"  Winkle,"  cried  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  the  equestrian  came  trotting  up 
on  the  tall  horse,  with  his  hat  over  his  ears:  and  shaking  all  over,  as  if 
he  would  shake  to  pieces,  with  the  violence  of  the  exercise.  "  Pick  up 
the  whip,  there's  a  good  fellow."  Mr.  Winkle  pulled  at  the  bridle  of 
the  tall  horse  till  he  was  black  in  the  face ;  and  having  at  length  suc- 
ceeded in  stopping  him,  dismounted,  handed  the  whip  to  Mr.  Pickwick, 
and  grasping  the  reins,  prepared  to  remount. 

Now  whether  the  tall  horse,  in  the  natural  playfulness  of  his  dispo- 
sition, was  desirous  of  having  a  little  innocent  recreation  with  Mr. 
Winkle,  or  whether  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  could  perform  the 
journey  as  much  to  his  own  satisfaction  without  a  rider  as  with  one, 
are  points  upon  which,  of  course,  we  can  arrive  at  no  definite  and  distinct 
conclusion.  By  whatever  motives  the  animal  was  actuated,  certain  it 
is  that  Mr.  Winkle  had  no  sooner  touched  the  reins,  than  he  slipped 
them  over  his  head,  and  darted  backwards  to  their  full  length. 

"  Poor  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  soothingly, — "  poor  fellow — good 
old  horse."  The  "poor  fellow"  was  proof  against  flattery:  the  more 
Mr.  Winkle  tried  to  get  nearer  him,  the  more  he  sidled  away  ;  and, 
notwitlistanding  all  kinds  of  coaxing  and  wheedling,  there  were  Mr. 
Winkle  and  the  horse  going  round  and  round  each  other  for  ten  minutes, 
at  the  end  of  which  time  each  was  at  precisely  the  same  distance  from 
the  other  as  when  they  first  commenced — an  unsatisfactory  sort  of 
thing  under  any  circumstances,  but  particularly  so  in  a  lonely  road, 
where  no  assistance  can  be  procured. 

"What  am  I  to  do?"  shouted  Mr.  Winkle,  after  the  dodging  had 
been  prolonged  for  a  considerable  time.  "  What  am  I  to  do  ?  I  can't 
get  on  him?" 

"  Ypu  had  better  lead  him  till  we  come  to  a  turnpike,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick  from  the  chaise. 

"  But  he  won't  come,"  roared  Mr.  Winkle.  "  Do  come,  and  hold 
him." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  the  very  personation  of  kindness  and  humanity : 
he  threw  the  reins  on  the  horse's  back,  and  having  descended  from  his 
seat,  carefully  drew  the  chaise  into  the  hedge,  lest  anything  should 
come  along  the  road,  and  stepped  back  to  the  assistance  of  his  dis- 
tressed companion,  leaving  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  in  the 
vehicle. 

The  horse  no  sooner  beheld  Mr.  Pickwick  advancing  towards  him, 
with  the  chaise  whip  in  his  hand,  than  he  exchanged  the  rotary  motion 
in  which  he  had  previously  indulged,  for  a  retrogade  movement  of  so 
very  determined  a  character,  that  it  at  once  drew  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was 
still  at  the  end  of  the  bridle,  at  a  rather  quicker  rate  than  fast  walking, 
in  the  direction  from  which  they  had  just  come.  Mr.  Pickwick  ran  to 
his  assistance,  but  the  faster  Mr.  Pickwick  ran  forward,  the  faster  th« 


4y  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

horse  ran  backward.  There  was  a  great  scraping  of  feet,  and  kicking 
up  of  the  dust ;  and  at  last  Mr.  Winkle,  his  arms  being  nearly  pulled 
out  of  their  sockets,  fairly  let  go  his  hold.  The  horse  paused, 
stared,  shook  his  head,  turned  round,  and  quietly  trotted  home  to 
Rochester,  leaving  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr,  Pickwick  gazing  on  each 
other  with  countenances  of  blank  dismay.  A  rattling  noise  at  a  little 
distance  attracted  their  attention.     They  looked  up. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  exclaimed  the  agonized  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  there's 
the  other  horse  running  away  !  " 

It  was  but  too  true.  The  animal  was  startled  by  the  noise,  and  the 
reins  were  on  his  back.  The  result  may  be  guessed.  He  tore  off 
with  the  four-wheeled  chaise  behind  him,  and  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr 
Snodgrass  in  the  four-wheeled  chaise.  The  heat  was  a  short  one. 
Mr.  Tupman  threw  himself  into  the  hedge,  Mr.  Snodgrass  followed 
his  example,  the  horse  dashed  the  four-wheeled  chaise  against  a 
wooden  bridge,  separated  the  wheels  from  the  body,  and  the  bin  from 
the  perch ;  and  finally  stood  stock  still,  to  gaze  upon  the  ruin  he  had 
made. 

The  first  care  of  the  two  unspilt  friends  was  to  extricate  their  unfor- 
tunate companions  from  their  bed  of  quickset — a  process  which  gave 
them  the  unspeakable  satisfaction  of  discovering  that  they  had  sustained 
no  injury,  beyond  sundry  rents  in  their  garments,  and  various  lacera- 
tions from  the  brambles.  The  next  thing  to  be  done  was,  to  unharness 
the  horse.  This  complicated  process  having  been  effected,  the  party 
walked  slowly  forward,  leading  the  horse  among  them,  and  abandoning" 
the  chaise  to  its  fate. 

An  hour's  walking  brought  the  travellers  to  a  little  road-side  public 
house,  with  two  elm-trees,  a  horse  trough,  and  a  sign-post,  in  front; 
one  or  two  deformed  hay-ricks  behind,  a  kitchen  garden  at  the  side, 
and  rotten  sheds  and  mouldering  out-houses,  jumbled  in  strange  confu- 
sion, all  about  it.  A  red-headed  man  was  working  in  the  garden  ;  and 
to  him  Mr.  Pickwick  called  lustily — "  Hallo  there  I  " 

The  red-headed  man  raised  his  body,  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand, 
and  stared,  long  and  coolly,  at  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  companions. 

"  Hallo  there  I  "  repeated  Mr,  Pickwick. 

*'  Hallo  !  '*  was  the  red-headed  man's  reply. 

<'  How  far  is  it  to  Dingley  Dell  ?" 

"  Better  er  seven  mile." 

"  Is  it  a  good  road  ?  " 

"  No,  t'ant."  Having  uttered  this  brief  reply,  and  apparently  satis- 
fied himself  with  another  scrutiny,  the  red-headed  man  resumed  his 
work. 

u  We  want  to  put  this  horse  up  here,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  "  I  suppose 
we  can,  can't  we?" 

"  Want  to  put  that  ere  horse  up,  do  ee  ?  "  repeated  the  red-headed 
man,  leaning  on  his  spade. 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  by  this  time  advanced, 
horse  in  hand,  to  the  garden  rails. 

"  Missus  " — roared  the  man  with  the  red  head,  emerging  from  the 
g;arden,  and  looking  very  hard  at  the  hor?e— "  Missus." 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  49 

A  tall  bony  woman — straig^ht  all  the  way  down — in  a  coarse  blue 
pelisse,  with  the  waist  an  inch  or  two  below  her  arno-pits,  responded  to 
the  call. 

"  Can  we  put  this  horse  up  here,  my  good  woman  ?  "  said  Mr.  Tup- 
man,  advancing-,  and  speaking  in  his  most  seductive  tones.  The  woman 
looked  very  hard  at  the  whole  party  ;  and  the  red-headed  man  whis- 
pered something  in  her  ear. 

"  No,"  replied  the  woman,  after  a  little  consideration,  "  I'm  afeerd 
on  it." 

"  Afraid  I"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  what's  the  woman  afraid  of!" 

"  It  got  lis  in  trouble  last  time,"  said  the  woman,  turning  into  the 
house;  '*  I  woant  have  nothin'  to  say  to  *un." 

*'  Most  extraordinary  thing  I  ever  met  with  in  my  life,"  said  the 
astonished  Mr.  Pickwick. 

**  I  —  I  —  really  believe,"  whispered  Mr.  Winkle,  as  his  friends 
gathered  round  him,  "  that  they  think  we  have  come  by  this  horse  in 
some  dishonest  manner." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  storm  of  indignation.  Mr. 
Winkle  modestly  repeated  his  suggestion. 

"  Hallo,  you  fellow  !"  said  the  angry  Mr.  Pickwick,  **  do  you  think 
we  stole  this  horse  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  ye  did,"  replied  the  red-headed  njan,  with  a  grin  which 
agitated  his  countenance  from  one  auricular  organ  to  the  other. 
Saying  which,  he  turned  into  the  house,  and  banged  the  dcor  after 
him. 

"  It's  like  a  dream," — ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  a  hideous  dream. 
The  idea  of  a  man's  walking  about,  all  day,  vvith  a  dreadful  horse  that 
he  can't  get  rid  of!"  The  depressed  Pickwickians  turned  moodily 
away,  with  the  tall  quadruped,  for  which  they  all  felt  the  most  unmiti- 
gated disgust,  following  slowly  at  their  heels. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  four  friends  and  their  four- 
footed  companion,  turned  into  the  lane  leading  to  Manor  Farm :  and 
even  when  they  were  so  near  their  place  of  destination,  the  pleasure 
they  would  otherwise  have  experienced,  was  materially  damped  as  they 
reflected  on  the  bingularity  of  their  appearance,  and  the  absurdity  of 
their  situation.  Torn  clothes,  lacerated  faces,  dusty  shoes,  exhausted 
looks,  and,  above  all,  the  horse.  Oh,  how  Mr.  Pickwick  cursed  that 
horse  :  he  had  eyed  the  noble  animal  from  time  to  time  with  looks 
expressive  of  hatred  and  revenge  ;  more  than  once  he  had  calculated  the 
probable  amount  of  the  expense  he  would  incur  by  cutting  his  throat ; 
and  now  the  temptation  to  destroy  him,  or  to  cast  him  loose  upon  the 
world,  rushed  upon  his  mind  with  ten-fold  force.  He  was  roused  from 
a  meditation  on  these  dire  imaginings,  by  the  sudden  appearance  of 
two  figures,  at  a  turn  of  the  lane.  It  was  Mr.  Wardle,  and  his 
faithful  attendant,  the  fat  boy. 

"Why,  where  hai^e  you  been?"  said  the  hospitable  old  gentleman. 
"  I've  been  waiting  for  you  all  day.  Well,  you  do  look  tired.  What! 
Scratches !  Not  hurt,  I  hope — eh  ?  Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  that — 
very.     So  you've  been  spilt,  eh.^     Never  mind.     Common  accident  in 


50  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

these  parts.  Joe — damn  that  boy,  he's  asleep  again — Joe  take  that 
horse  from  the  gentleman,  and  lead  it  into  the  stable." 

The  fat  boy  sauntered  heavily  behind  them  with  the  animal ;  and 
the  old  gentleman  condoling  with  his  guests  in  homely  phrase,  on  so 
much  of  the  day's  adventures  as  they  thought  proper  to  communicate, 
led  the  way  to  the  kitchen. 

"  We'll  have  you  put  to  rights  here,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
"  and  then  I'll  introduce  you  to  the  people  in  the  parlour.  Emma, 
bring  out  the  cherry  brandy  ;  now,  Jane,  a  needle  and  thread  here ; 
towels  and  water,  Mary.     Come,  girls,  bustle  about." 

Three  or  four  buxom  girls  speedily  dispersed  in  search  of  the  different 
articles  in  requisition,  while  a  couple  of  large-headed,  circular- visaged 
males  rose  from  their  seats  in  the  chimney  corner,  (for  although  it  was 
a  May  evening,  their  attachment  to  the  wood  fire  appeared  as  cordial 
as  if  it  were  Christmas,)  and  dived  into  some  obscure  recesses,  from 
which  they  speedily  produced  a  bottle  of  blacking,  and  some  half-dozen 
brushes. 

"  Bustle,"  said  the  old  gentleman  again,  but  the  admonition  was  quite 
unnecessary,  for  one  of  the  girls  poured  out  the  cherry  brandy,  and 
another  brought  in  the  towels,  and  one  of  the  men  suddenly  seizing  Mr. 
Pickwick  by  the  leg,  at  the  imminent  hazard  of  throwing  him  off  his 
balance,  brushed  away  at  his  boot,  till  his  corns  were  red-hot ;  while 
the  other  shampoo'd  Mr  Winkle  with  a  heavy  clothes  brush,  indulging, 
during  the  operation,  in  that  hissing  sound,  which  hostlers  are  wont  to 
produce,  when  engaged  in  rubbing  down  a  horse. 

Mr.  Snodgrass,  having  concluded  his  ablutions,  took  a  survey  of  the 
room,  while  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  sipping  his  cherry 
brandy  with  heartfelt  satisfaction.  He  describes  it,  as  a  large  apart- 
ment, with  a  red  brick  floor,  and  a  capacious  chimney  ;  the  ceiling  gar- 
nished with  hams,  sides  of  bacon,  and  ropes  of  onions.  The  walls  were 
decorated  with  several  hunting-whips,  two  or  three  bridles,  a  saddle,  and 
an  old  rusty  blunderbuss,  with  an  inscription  below  it,  intimating  that 
it  was  "  Loaded  " — as  it  had  been,  on  the  same  authority,  for  half  a  cen- 
tury at  least.  An  old  eight-day  clock,  of  solemn  and  sedate  demeanour, 
ticked  gravely  in  one  corner ;  and  a  silver  watch,  of  equal  antiquity, 
dangled  from  one  of  the  many  hooks  which  ornamented  the  dresser. 

"  Ready  ?  "  said  the  old  gentleman  inquiringly,  when  his  guests  had 
been  washed,  mended,  brushed,  and  brandied. 

*'  Quite,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Come  along  then,"  and  the  party  having  traversed  several  dark 
passages,  and  being  joined  by  Mr.  'i'upman,  who  had  lingered  behind 
to  snatch  a  kiss  from  Emma,  for  which  he  had  been  duly  rewarded 
with  sundry  pushings  and  scratchings  arrived  at  the  parlour  door. 

"  Welcome,"  said  their  hospitable  host,  throwing  it  open  and  stepping 
forward  to  announce  them,  "Welcome,  gentlemen,  to  Manor  Farm." 


THK   PICKWICK    CLUB.  ^1 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AN    OLD-FASHIONED  CARD-PARTY THE   CLERGYMAN'k    VERSES — 

THE    STORY    OF    THE    CONVICT's    RETURN. 

Several  guests  who  were  assembled  in  the  old  parlour,  rose  to  greet 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  upon  their  entrance  ;  and  during  the 
performance  of  the  ceremony  of  introduction,  with  all  due  formalities, 
Mr.  Pickwick  had  leisure  to  observe  the  appearance,  and  speculate  upon 
the  characters  and  pursuits,  of  the  persons  by  whom  ho  was  surrounded — 
a  habit  in  which  he  in  common  with  many  other  great  men  delighted 
to  indulge. 

A  very  old  lady,  in  a  lofty  cap  and  faded  silk  gown — no  less  a  per- 
sonage than  Mr.  Wardle's  mother — occupied  the  post  of  honour  on  the 
right-hand  corner  of  the  chimney-piece ;  and  various  certificates  of  her 
having  been  brought  up  in  the  way  she  should  go  when  young,  and  of 
her  not  having  departed  from  it  when  old,  ornamented  the  walls,  in  the 
form  of  samplers  of  ancient  date,  worsted  landscapes  of  equal  antiquity,  and 
crimson  silk  tea-kettle  holders  of  a  more  modern  period.  The  aunt,  the 
two  young  ladies,  and  Mr.  Wardle,  each  vying  with  the  other  in  paying 
zealous  and  unremitting  attentions  to  the  old  lady,  crowded  round  her 
easy  chair,  one  holding  her  ear-trumpet,  another  an  orange,  and  a  third 
a  smelling-bottle,  while  a  fourth  was  busily  engaged  in  patting  and 
punching  the  pillows,  which  were  arranged  for  her  support.  On  the 
opposite  side,  sat  a  bald-headed  old  gentleman,  with  a  good-humoured 
benevolent  face — the  clergyman  of  Dingley  Dell  ;  and  next  him  sat  his 
wife,  a  stout  blooming  old  lady,  who  looked  as  if  she  were  well  skilled^ 
not  only  in  the  art  and  mystery  of  manufacturing  home-made  cordials 
greatly  to  other  people's  satisfaction,  but  of  tasting  them  occasionally 
very  much  to  her  own.  A  little  hard-headed,  Ripstone  pippin-faced 
man,  was  conversing  with  a  fat  old  gentleman  in  one  corner;  and  two  or 
three  more  old  gentlemen,  and  two  or  three  more  old  ladies,  sat  bolt- 
upright  and  motionless  on  their  chairs,  staring  very  hard  at  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  his  fellow-voyagers. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick,  mother,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  at  the  very  top  of  his 
voice. 

"  Ah  ! "  said  the  old  lady,  shaking  her  head  ;  "  I  can't  hear  you." 

"Mr.  Pickwick,  grandma  I"  screamed  both  the  young  ladies  toge- 
ther. 

"  Ah  I  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady.  "  Well ;  it  don't  much  matter.  He 
don't  care  for  an  old  'ooman  like  me,  I  dare  say." 

"  I  assure  you.  Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  grasping  the  old  lady's 
band ;  and  speaking  so  loud  that  the  exertion  imparted  a  crimson  hue 
to  his  benevolent  countenance  ;  '*  I  assure  you.  Ma'am,  that  nothing 
dehghts  me  more,  than  to  see  a  lady  of  your  time  of  life  heading  so  fine 
a  family,  and  looking  so  young  and  well." 

H 


52 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


"  Ah  ! "  said  the  old  lady,  after  a  short  pause  ;  "  It 's  all  very  fine,  I 
dare  say ;  but  I  can't  hear  him." 

"  Grandma 's  rather  put  out  now,"  said  Miss  Isabella  Wardle,  in  a 
low  tone ;  "  but  she'll  talk  to  you  presently." 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  his  readiness  to  humour  the  infirmities  of 
age,  and  entered  into  a  general  conversation  with  the  other  members 
of  the  circle. 

"  Delightful  situation  this,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Delightful  I  "  echoed  Messrs.  Snodgrass,  Tupraan,  and  Winkle. 

"  Well,  I  think  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Wardle. 

*'  There  ain't  a  better  spot  o'  ground  in  all  Kent,  Sir,"  said  the  hard- 
headed  man  with  the  pippin-face ;  "  there  ain't  indeed,  Sir — I'm  sure 
there  ain't,  Sir;"  and  the  hard-headei  man  looked  triumphantly  round, 
as  if  he  had  been  very  much  contradicted  by  somebody,  but  had  got  the 
better  of  him  at  last. 

"  There  ain't  a  better  spot  o'  ground  in  all  Kent,"  said  the  hard- 
headed  man  again,  after  a  pause. 

"  'Cept  MuUins'  Meadows,"  observed  the  fat  man,  solemnly. 

"  Mullins'  Meadows  I "  ejaculated  the  other,  with  profound  con- 
tempt. 

*'  Ah,  MuUins'  Meadows,"  repeated  the  fat  man. 

"  Reg'lar  good  land  that,"  interposed  another  fat  man. 

*'  And  so  it  is,  sure-ly,"  said  a  third  fat  man. 

"  Everybody  knows  that,"  said  the  corpulent  host. 

The  hard-headed  man  looked  dubiously  round,  but  finding  himself  in 
a  minority,  assumed  a  compassionate  air,  and  said  no  more. 

"  What  are  they  talking  about  ?  "  inquired  the  old  lady  of  one  of  her 
grand- daughters,  in  a  very  audible  voice  ;  for,  like  many  deaf  people, 
she  never  seemed  to  calculate  on  the  possibility  of  other  persons  hearing 
what  she  said  herself. 

"  About  the  land,  grandma." 

"  What  about  the  land  ? — Nothing  the  matter,  is  there  ?  " 

"  No,  no.  Mr.  Miller  was  saying  our  land  was  better  than  Mullins* 
Meadows." 

"  How  should  he  know  anything  about  it  ? "  inquired  the  old  lady 
indignantly.  "  Miller  *s  a  conceited  coxcomb,  and  you  may  tell  him  I 
said  so."  Saying  which,  the  old  lady,  quite  uncoiscious  that  she  had 
spoken  above  a  whisper,  drew  herself  up,  and  loolied  carving  knives  at 
the  hard-headed  delinquent. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  bustling  host,  with  a  natural  anxiety  to 
change  the  conversation, — "What  say  you  to  a  rubber,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick ?  " 

"  I  should  like  it  of  all  things,"  replied  that  gentleman  ;  "  but  pray 
don't  make  up  one  on  my  account." 

"  Oh,  I  assure  you,  mother's  very  fond  of  a  rubber,"  said  Mr.  Wardle ; 
"  ain't  you  mother?" 

The  old  lady,  who  was  much  less  deaf  on  this  subject  than  on  any 
other,  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Joe,  Joe,"  said  the  old  gentleman — *'  Joe — damn  that — oh.  here 
he  is  ;  put  out  the  card-tables." 


THE    PICKWICK    C:LUb.  53 

The  lethargic  youth  contrived  without  any  additional  rousing,  to  set 
out  two  card-tables;  tlie  one  for  Pope  Joan,  and  the  other  for  whist. 
The  whist-players  were,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  the  old  lady ;  Mr.  Miller 
and  the  fat  gentleman.  The  round  game  comprised  the  rest  of  the 
company. 

The  rubber  was  conducted  with  all  that  gravity  of  deportment,  and 
sedateness  of  demeanour,  which  befit  the  pursuit  entitled  "whist" — a 
solemn  observance,  to  which,  as  it  appears  to  us,  the  title  of  "  game  " 
has  been  very  irreverently  and  ignominiously  applied.  The  round-game 
table  on  the  other  hand,  was  so  boisterously  merry,  as  materially  to 
interrupt  the  contemplations  of  Mr.  Miller,  who  not  being  quite  s 
much  absorbed  as  he  ought  to  have  been,  contrived  to  commit  various 
high  crimes  and  misdemeanours,  which  excited  the  wrath  of  the  fat 
gentleman  to  a  very  great  extent,  and  called  forth  the  good-humour  of 
the  old  lady  in  a  proportionate  degree. 

"  There!  "  said  the  criminal  Miller  triumphantly,  as  he  took  up  the 
odd  trick  at  the  conclusion  of  a  hand ;  "  that  could  not  have  beei 
played  better,  I  flatter  myself;  —  impossible  to  have  made  another 
trick!" 

"Miller  ought  to  have  trumped  the  diamond,  oughtn't  he  Sir?" 
said  the  old  lady. 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  assent. 

"  Ought  I,  though  ?  "  said  the  unfortunate,  with  a  doubtful  appeal  to 
his  partner. 

"  You  ought  Sir/'  said  the  fat  gentleman  in  an  awful  voice. 

"  Very  sorry,"  said  the  crest-fallen  Miller. 

*'  Much  use  that,"  growled  the  fat  gentleman. 

"  Two  by  honours — makes  us  eight,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Another  hand.     "  Can  you  one?"  inquired  the  old  lady. 

**  I  can,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  Double,  single,  and  the  rub.** 

"  Never  was  such  luck,"  said  Mr.  Miller. 

"  Never  was  such  cards,"  said  the  fat  gentleman. 

A  solemn  silence ;  Mr.  Pickwick  humorous,  the  old  lady  serious,  the 
fat  gentleman  captious,  and  Mr.  Miller  timorous. 

"  Another  double,"  said  the  old  lady  :  triumphantly  making  a  memo- 
randum of  the  circumstance,  by  placing  one  sixpence  and  a  battered 
halfpenny,  under  the  candlestick. 

"  A  double,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

**  Quite  aware  of  the  fact.  Sir,"  replied  the  fat  gentleman,  sharply. 

Another  game,  with  a  similar  result,  was  followed  by  a  revoke  from 
the  unlucky  Miller;  on  which  the  fat  gentleman  burst  into  a  state  of 
high  personal  excitement  which  lasted  until  the  conclusion  of  the 
game,  when  he  retired  into  a  corner,  and  remained  perfectly  mute  f«>r 
one  hour  and  twenty-seven  minutes;  at  the  end  of  which  time,  he 
emerged  from  his  retirement,  and  offered  Mr.  Pickwick  a  pinch  of  snuff 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  made  up  his  mind  to  a  Christian  forgive- 
ness of  injuries  sustained.  The  old  lady's  hearing  decidedly  improved, 
and  the  unlucky  Miller  felt  as  much  out  of  his  element,  as  a  dolphin  in 
a  sentry-box. 

Meanwhile  the  round  game  proceeded  right  merr'i        Isabella  Wardle 

H  2 


54  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

and  Mr.  Trundle  "  went  partners,"  and  Emily  Wardle  and  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  did  the  same ;   and  even   Mr.  Tupman  and  the   spinster  aunt, 
established    a  joint-stock  company   of    fish   and  flattery.      Old   Mr. 
Wardle  was  in  the  very  height  of  his  jollity ;  and  he  was  so  funny  in 
his  management  of  the  board,  and  the  old  ladies  were  so  sharp  after  their 
winnings,  that  the  whole  table  was  in  a  perpetual  roar  of  merriment  and 
laughter.      There  was  one  old  lady  who  always  had  about  half  a  dozen 
cards  to  pay  for,  at  which  everybody  laughed,  regularly  every  round  ; 
and  when  the  old  lady  looked  cross  at  having  to  pay,  they  laughed 
louder  than  ever  ;  on  which  the  old  lady's  face  gradually  brightened  up, 
till  at  last  she  laughed  louder  than  any  of  them.     Then,  when  the 
spinster  aunt  got  "  matrimony,"  the  young  ladies  laughed  afresh,  and 
the  spinster  aunt  seemed  disposed  to  be  pettish  ;  till,  feeling  Mr.  Tup- 
man  squeezing  her  hand  under  the  table,  she  brightened  up  too,  and 
looked  rather  knowing  as  if  matrimony  in  reality  were  not  quite  so  far 
off  as  some  people  thought  for ;  whereupon  everybody  laughed  again, 
and  especially  old  Mr.  Wardle,  who  enjoyed  a  joke  as  much  as  the 
youngest.     As  to  Mr.  Snodgrass,  he  did  nothing  but  whisper  poetical 
sentiments  into  his  partner's  ear,  which  made  one  old  gentleman  face- 
tiously sly,  about  partnerships  at  cards,  and  partnerships  for  life,  and 
caused  the  aforesaid  old  gentleman  to  make  some  remarks  thereupon, 
accompanied  with  divers  winks  and  chuckles,  which  made  the  company 
very  merry  and  the  old  gentleman's  wife  especially  so.    And  Mr.  Winkle 
came  out  with   jokes  which  are  very  well  known  in  town,  but  are 
not  at  all  known  in  the  country ;  and  as  everybody  laughed  at  them 
very  heartily   and  said  they  were  very  capital,  Mr.  Winkle  was  in  a 
state  of  great  honour  and  glory.    And  the  benevolent  clergyman  looked 
pleasantly  on ;  for  the  happy  faces  which  surrounded  the  table  made 
the  good  old  man  feel  happy  too ;  and  though  the  merriment  was  rather 
boisterous,  still  it  came  from  the  heart  and  not  from  the  lips :  and  this 
is  the  right  sort  of  merriment,  after  all. 

The  evening  glided  swiftly  away,  in  these  cheerful  recreations ; 
and  when  the  substantial,  though  homely  supper  had  been  despatched, 
and  the  little  party  formed  a  social  circle  round  the  fire,  Mr. 
Pickwick  thought  he  had  never  felt  so  happy  in  his  life,  and  at  no 
time  so  much  disposed  to  enjoy,  and  make  the  most  of,  the  passing 
moments. 

*'  Now  this,"  said  the  hospitable  host,  who  was  sitting  in  great  state 
next  the  old  lady's  arm-chair,  with  her  hand  fast  clasped  in  his — "  This 
is  just  what  I  like — the  happiest  moments  of  my  life  have  been  passed 
at  this  old  fire-side  :  and  I  am  so  attached  to  it,  that  I  keep  up  a  blazing 
fire  here  every  evening,  until  it  actually  grows  too  hot  to  bear  it.  Why, 
my  poor  old  mother,  here,  used  to  sit  before  this  fire-place  upon  that 
little  stool,  when  she  was  a  girl — didn't  you,  mother?" 

The  tear  which  starts  unbidden  to  the  eye  when  the  recollection  of 
old  times  and  the  happiness  of  many  years  ago,  is  suddenly  recalled, 
stole  down  the  old  lady's  face,  as  she  shook  her  head  with  a  melancholy 
smile. 

"  You  must  excuse  my  talking  about  this  old  place,  Mr.  Pickwick,** 
resumed  the  host,  after  a  short  pause — "  for  I  love  it  dearly,  and  know 


i 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  55 

no  other — the  old  houses  and  fields  seem  like  living  friends  to  me  :  and 
BO  does  our  little  church  with  the  ivy, — about  which,  by-the-by,  our 
excellent  friend  there,  made  a  song  when  he  first  came  amongst  us. 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  have  you  anything  in  your  glass?" 

**  Plenty,  thank  you,"  replied  that  gentleman,  whose  poetic  curiosity 
had  been  greatly  excited  by  the  last  observations  of  his  enter- 
tainer. **  1  beg  your  pardon,  but  you  were  talking  about  the  song  of 
the  Ivy." 

"  You  must  ask  our  friend  opposite  about  that,"  said  the  host  know- 
ingly :  indicating  the  clergyman  by  a  nod  of  his  head. 

"May  I  say  that  I  should  like  to  hear  you  repeat  it,  Sir?"  said  Mr, 
Snodgrass. 

"  Why  really,"  replied  the  clergyman,  "  it 's  a  very  slight  affair ;  and 
the  only  excuse  I  have  for  having  ever  perpetrated  it,  is,  that  I  was  a 
young  man  at  the  time.  Such  as  it  is,  however,  you  shall  hear  it  if 
you  wish." 

A  murmur  of  curiosity  was  of  course  the  reply  ;  and  the  old  gentle- 
man proceeded  to  recite,  with  the  aid  of  sundry  promptings  from  his 
wife,  the  lines  in  question.     "  I  call  them,"  said  he, 


Oh,  a  dainty  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 

That  creepeth  o'er  ruins  old ! 

Of  right  choice  food  are  his  meals,  I  ween, 

In  his  cell  so  lone  and  cold. 

The  wall  must  be  crumbled,  the  stone  decayed, 

To  pleasure  his  dainty  whim  : 

And  the  mouldering  dust  that  years  have  made, 

Is  a  merry  meal  for  him. 

Creeping  where  no  life  is  seen, 
A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 


Fast  he  stealeth  on,  though  he  woars  no  wings, 

And  a  staunch  old  heart  has  he. 

How  closely  he  twineth,  how  tight  he  clings, 

To  his  friend  the  huge  Oak  Tree  ! 

And  slily  he  trailcth  along  the  ground, 

And  his  leaves  he  gently  waves, 

As  he  joyously  hugs  and  crawleth  round 

The  rich  mould  of  dead  men's  graves. 

Creeping  where  grim  death  has  been, 
A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  gieen. 


Whole  ages  have  fled  and  their  works  decayed, 

And  nations  have  scattered  been  ; 

But  the  stout  old  Ivy  shall  never  fade, 

From  its  hale  and  hearty  green. 

The  brave  old  plant  in  its  lonely  days, 

Shall  fatten  upon  the  past : 

For  the  stateliest  building  man  can  raise. 

Is  the  Ivy's  food  at  last. 

Creeping  on,  where  time  has  been, 
A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 


50  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

While  the  old  gentleman  repeated  these  lines  a  second  time,  to  enable 
Mr,  Snodgrass  to  note  them  down,  Mr.  Pickwick  perused  the  linea- 
ments of  his  face  with  an  expression  of  great  interest.  The  old  gentle- 
man having  concluded  his  dictation,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  having  returned 
his  note-book  to  his  pocket,  Mr.  Pickwick  said, — 

<*  Excuse  me,  Sir,  for  making  the  remark  on  so  short  an  acquaint- 
ance ;  but  a  gentleman  like  yourself  cannot  fail,  I  should  think,  to  have 
observed  many  scenes  and  incidents  worth  recording,  in  the  course  of 
your  experience  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel." 

"  I  have  witnessed  some  certainly,"  replied  the  old  gentleman  ;  "  but 
the  incidents  and  characters  have  been  of  a  homely  and  ordinary  nature, 
my  sphere  of  action  being  so  very  limited." 

"  You  did  make  some  notes,  I  think,  about  John  Edmunds,  did  you 
not?  "  inquired  Mr.  Wardle  who  appeared  very  desirous  to  draw  his 
friend  out,  for  the  edification  of  his  new  visiters. 

The  old  gentleman  slightly  nodded  his  head  in  token  of  assent,  and 
was  proceeding  to  change  the  subject,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  said, — 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir ;  but  pray,  if  I  may  venture  to  inquire,  who 
was  John  Edmunds  ?  " 

'*  The  very  thing  I  was  about  to  ask,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  eagerly. 
*'  You  are  fairly  in  for  it,"  said  the  jolly  host.     "  You  must  satisfy 
the  curiosity  of  these  gentlemen,  sooner  or  later;  so  you  had  better 
take  advantage  of  this  favourable  opportunity,  and  do  so  at  once." 

The  old  gentleman  smiled  good-humouredly  as  he  drew  his  chair 
forward ; — the  remainder  of  the  party  drew  their  chairs  closer  together, 
especially  Mr.  Tupman  and  the  spinster  aunt,  who  were  possibly  rather 
hard  of  hearing ;  and  the  old  lady's  ear-trumpet  having  been  duly 
adjusted,  and  Mr.  Miller  (who  had  fallen  asleep  during  the  recital 
of  the  verses)  roused  from  his  slumbers  by  an  admonitory  pinch, 
administered  beneath  the  table  by  his  ex-partner  the  solemn  fat  man, 
the  old  gentleman,  without  further  preface,  commenced  the  following 
tale,  to  which  we  have  taken  the  liberty  of  prefixing  the  title  of 

THE   CONVICT'S    RETURN. 

"  When  I  first  settled  in  this  village,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 
"  which  is  now  just  five-and-twenty  years  ago,  the  most  notorious 
person  among  my  parishioners  was  a  man  of  the  name  of  Edmunds, 
who  leased  a  small  farm  near  this  spot.  He  was  a  morose,  savage- 
hearted,  bad  man :  idle  and  dissolute  in  his  habits ;  cruel  and  ferocious 
in  his  disposition.  Beyond  the  few  lazy  and  reckless  vagabonds  with 
whom  he  sauntered  away  his  time  in  the  fields,  or  sotted  in  the  ale- 
house, he  had  not  a  single  friend  or  acquaintance ;  no  one  cared  to 
speak  to  the  man  whom  many  feared,  and  every  one  detested — and 
Edmunds  was  shunned  by  all. 

"  This  man  had  a  wife  and  one  son,  who,  when  I  first  came  here,  was 
about  twelve  years  old.  Of  the  acuteness  of  that  woman's  sufferings, 
of  the  gentle  and  enduring  manner  in  which  she  bore  them,  of  the 
agony  of  solicitude  with  which  she  reared  that  boy,  no  one  can  form  an 
adequate  conception.  Heaven  forgive  me  the  supposition,  if  it  be  an 
uncharitable  one,  but  I  do  firmly  and  in  my  soul  believe,  that  the  man 
systematically  tried  for  many  years  to  break  her  heart ;  but  she  bore  it  all 


t 


I 


L 


THE    nCKWlCK    CLUB.  57 


'  fo?1ier  child's  sake,  and,  however  strange  it  may  seem  to  many,  for  his 
father's  too ;  for  brute  as  he  was  and  cruelly  as  he  treated  her,  she  had 
loved  him  once ;  and  the  recollection  of  what  he  had  been  to  her, 
awakened  feelings  of  forbearance  and  meekness  under  suffering  in  her 
bosom,  to  which  all  God's  creatures,  but  women,  are  strangers. 

"  They  were  poor — they  could  not  be  otherwise  when  the  man  pur- 
sued such  courses;  but  the  woman's  unceasing  and  unwearied  exertions, 
early  and  late,  morning,  noon,  and  night,  kept  them  above  actual 
want.  Those  exertions  were  but  ill  repaid.  People  who  passed  the 
spot  in  the  evening — sometimes  at  a  late  hour  of  the  night — reported 
that  they  had  heard  the  moans  and  sobs  of  a  woman  in  distress,  and  the 
sound  of  blows :  and  more  than  once,  when  it  was  past  midnight,  the  boy 
knocked  softly  at  the  door  of  a  neighbour's  house,  whither  he  had  been 
sent,  to  escape  the  drunken  fury  of  his  unnatural  father. 

"  During  the  whole  of  this  time,  and  when  the  poor  creature  often 
bore  about  her  marks  of  ill-usage  and  violence  which  she  could  not 
wholly  conceal,  she  was  a  constant  attendant  at  our  little  church. 
Regularly  every  Sunday,  morning  and  afternoon,  she  occupied  the  same 
seat  with  the  boy  at  her  side ;  and  though  they  were  both  poorly 
dressed — much  more  so  than  many  of  their  neighbours  who  were  in  a 
lower  station — they  were  always  neat  and  clean.  Every  one  had  a 
friendly  nod  and  a  kind  word  for  *  poor  Mrs.  Edmunds  ;'  and  sometimes, 
when  she  stopped  to  exchange  a  few  words  with  a  neighbour  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  service  in  the  little  row  of  elm  trees  which  leads  to  the 
church  porch,  or  lingered  behind  to  gaze  with  a  mother's  pride  and 
fondness  upon  her  healthy  boy,  as  he  sported  before  her  with  some 
little  companions,  her  care-worn  face  would  lighten  up  with  an  expres- 
sion of  heartfelt  gratitude ;  and  she  would  look,  if  not  cheerful  and 
hanpy,  at  least  tranquil  and  contented. 

*  Five  or  six  years  passed  away  ;  the  boy  had  become  a  robust  and 
well-grown  youth.  The  time  that  had  strengthened  the  child's  slight 
frame  and  knit  his  weak  limbs  into  the  strength  of  manhood,  had 
bowed  his  mother's  form,  and  enfeebled  her  steps ;  but  the  arm  that 
should  have  supported  her  was  no  longer  locked  in  hers  ;  the  face  that 
should  have  cheered  her,  no  more  looked  upon  her  own.  She  occupied 
her  old  seat,  but  there  was  a  vacant  one  beside  her.  The  Bible  was 
kept  as  carefully  as  ever,  the  places  were  found  and  folded  down  as 
they  used  to  be :  but  there  was  no  one  to  read  it  with  her ;  and  the 
tears  fell  thick  and  fast  upon  the  book,  and  blotted  the  words  from  her 
eyes.  Neighbours  were  as  kind  as  they  were  wont  to  be  of  old,  but  she 
shunned  their  greetings  with  averted  head.  There  was  no  lingering 
among  the  old  elm  trees  now — no  cheering  anticipations  of  happiness 
yet  in  store.  The  desolate  woman  drew  her  bonnet  closer  over  her 
face,  and  walked  hurriedly  away. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you,  that  the  young  man,  who,  looking  back  to  the 
earliest  of  his  childhood's  days  to  which  memory  and  consciousness 
extended,  and  carrying  his  recollection  down  to  that  moment,  could 
remember  nothing  which  was  not  in  some  way  connected  with  a  long 
series  of  voluntary  privations  suffered  by  his  mother  for  his  sake,  with 
ill-usage,  and  insult,  and  violence,  and  all  endured  for  him ; — shall  I 
tell  you,  that  he,  with  a  reckless  disregard  of  her  breaking  heart,  and 


58  POSTHUMOUS  papers  of 

a  sullen  wilful  forgetfulness  of  all  she  had  done  and  borne  for  him, 
had  linked  himself  with  depraved  and  abandoned  men,  and  was  madly 
pursuing-  a  headlong-  career,  which  must  bring  death  to  him,  and 
shame  to  her  ?  Alas  for  human  nature  !  You  have  anticipated  it 
long  since. 

"  The  measure  of  the  unhappy  woman's  misery  and  misfortune  was 
about  to  be  completed.  Numerous  offences  had  been  committed  in  the 
neighbourhood ;  the  perpetrators  remained  undiscovered,  and  their 
boldness  increased.  A  robbery  of  a  daring  and  aggravated  nature  occa- 
sioned a  vigilance  of  pursuit,  and  a  strictness  of  search,  they  had  not 
calculated  on.  Young  Edmunds  was  suspected  with  three  companions. 
He  was  apprehended — committed — tried — condemned — to  die. 

"  The  wild  and  piercing  shriek  from  a  woman's  voice,  which  re- 
sounded through  the  court  when  the  solemn  sentence  was  pronounced, 
rings  in  my  ears  at  this  moment.  That  cry  struck  a  terror  to  the  cul- 
prit's heart,  which  trial,  condemnation — the  approach  of  death  itself, 
had  failed  to  awaken.  The  lips  which  had  been  compressed  in  dogged 
sullenness  throughout,  quivered  and  parted  involuntarily ;  the  face 
turned  ashy  pale  as  the  cold  perspiration  broke  forth  from  every 
pore ;  the  sturdy  limbs  of  the  felon  trembled,  and  he  staggered  in 
the  dock. 

''  In  the  first  transports  of  her  mental  anguish,  the  suffering  mother 
threw  herself  upon  her  knees  at  my  feet,  and  fervently  besought  the 
Almighty  Being  who  had  hitherto  supported  her  in  all  her  troubles,  to 
release  her  from  a  world  of  woe  and  misery,  and  to  spare  the  life  of  her 
only  child.  A  burst  of  grief,  and  a  violent  struggle,  such  as  I  hope  I 
may  never  have  to  witness  again,  succeeded.  I  knew  that  her  heart 
was  breaking  from  that  hour;  but  I  never  once  heard  complaint  or 
murmur  escape  her  lips. 

"  It  was  a  piteous  spectacle  to  see  that  woman  in  the  prison  yard 
from  day  to  day,  eagerly  and  fervently  attempting,  by  affection  and 
entreaty,  to  soften  the  hard  'heart  of  her  obdurate  son.  It  was  in  vain. 
He  remained  moody,  obstinate,  and  unmoved.  Not  even  the  unlooked- 
for  commutation  of  his  sentence  to  transportation  for  fourteen  years, 
softened  for  an  instant  the  sullen  hardihood  of  his  demeanour. 

"  But  the  spirit  of  resignation  and  endurance  that  had  so  long  upheld 
her,  was  unable  to  contend  against  bodily  weakness  and  infirmity.  She 
fell  sick.  She  dragged  her  tottering  limbs  from  the  bed  to  visit  her 
son  once  more,  but  her  strength  failed  her,  and  she  sunk  powerless  on 
the  ground. 

"  And  now  the  boasted  coldness  and  indifference  of  the  young  man 
were  tested  indeed  ;  and  the  retribution  that  fell  heavily  upon  him,  nearly 
drove  him  mad.  A  day  passed  away  and  his  mother  was  not  there  ;  an- 
other flew  by,  and  she  came  not  near  him  :  a  third  evening  arrived,  and  yet 
he  had  not  seen  her  ;  and  in  four-and-twenty  hours,  he  was  to  be  sepa- 
rated from  her — perhaps  for  ever.  Oh  !  how  the  long-forgotten  thoughts 
of  former  days  rushed  upon  his  mind,  as  he  almost  ran  up  and  down  the 
narrow  yard — as  if  intelligence  would  arrive  the  sooner  for  Aw  hurrying 
— and  how  bitterly  a  sense  of  his  helplessness  and  desolation  rushed  upon 
him,  when  he  heard  the  truth  I  His  mother,  the  only  parent  he  had 
ever  known,  lay  ill — it  might  be,  dying — within  one  mile  of  the  ground 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  59 

he  stood  on ;  were  he  free  and  unfettered,  a  few  minutes  would  place 
him  by  her  side.  He  rushed  to  the  gate,  and,  grasping  the  iron  rails 
with  the  energy  of  desperation,  shook  it  till  it  rang  again,  and  threw 
himself  against  the  thick  wall  as  if  to  force  a  passage  through  the 
stone ;  but  the  strong  building  mocked  his  feeble  efforts,  and  he  beat 
his  hands  together  and  wept  like  a  child. 

"  I  bore  the  mother's  forgiveness  and  blessing  to  her  son  in  prison  ; 
and  I  carried  his  solemn  assurance  of  repentance,  and  his  fervent  sup- 
plication for  pardon,  to  her  sick  bed.  I  heard  with  pity  and  compas- 
sion, the  repentant  man  devise  a  thousand  little  plans  for  her  comfort 
and  support,  when  he  returned ;  but  I  knew  that  many  months  before 
he  could  reach  his  place  of  destination,  his  mother  would  be  no  longer 
of  this  world. 

"  He  was  removed  by  night.  A  few  weeks  afterwards  the  poor 
woman's  soul  took  its  flight  I  confidently  hope,  and  solemnly  believe, 
to  a  place  of  eternal  happiness  and  rest.  I  performed  the  burial  service 
over  her  remains.  She  lies  in  our  little  churchyard.  There  is  no 
stone  at  her  grave's  head.  Her  sorrows  were  known  to  man ;  her 
virtues  to  God. 

"  It  had  been  arranged  previously  to  the  convict's  departure,  that  he 
should  write  to  his  mother  so  soon  as  he  could  obtain  permission,  and 
that  the  letter  should  be  addressed  to  me.  The  father  had  positively 
refused  to  see  his  son  from  the  moment  of  his  apprehension ;  and  it 
was  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him  whether  he  lived  or  died.  Many 
years  passed  over  without  any  intelligence  of  him  ;  and  when  more  than 
half  his  term  of  transportation  had  expired  and  I  had  received  no  letter, 
I  concluded  him  to  be  dead,  as,  indeed,  I  almost  hoped  he  might  be. 

**  Edmunds,  however,  had  been  sent  a  considerable  distance  up  the 
country  on  his  arrival  at  the  settlement ;  and  to  this  circumstance, 
perhaps,  may  be  attributed  the  fact,  that  though  several  letters  were 
despatched  none  of  them  ever  reached  my  hands.  He  remained  in  the 
same  place  during  the  whole  fourteen  years.  At  the  expiration  of  the 
term  steadily  adhering  to  his  old  resolution,  and  the  pledge  he  gave 
his  mother,  he  made  his  way  back  to  England  amidst  innumerable 
difficulties,  and  returned,  on  foot,  to  his  native  place. 

"  On  a  fine  Sunday  evening,  in  the  month  of  August,  John  Edmunds 
set  foot  in  the  village  he  had  left  with  shame  and  disgrace  seventeen 
years  before.  His  nearest  way  lay  through  the  churchyard.  The 
man's  heart  swelled  as  he  crossed  the  stile.  The  tall  old  elms,  through 
whose  branches  the  declining  sun  cast  here  and  there  a  rich  ray  of 
light  upon  the  shady  path,  awakened  the  associations  of  his  earliest 
days.  He  pictured  himself  as  he  was  then,  clinging  to  his  mother's 
hand,  and  walking  peacefully  to  church.  He  remembered  how  he  used 
to  look  up  into  her  pale  face ;  and  how  her  eyes  would  sometimes  fill 
with  tears  as  she  gazed  upon  his  features — tears  which  fell  hot  upon 
his  forehead  as  she  stooped  to  kiss  him,  and  made  him  weep  too, 
although  he  little  knew  then  what  bitter  tears  hers  were.  He  thought 
how  often  he  had  run  merrily  down  that  path  with  some  childish  play 
fellow,  looking  back  ever  and  again,  to  catch  his  mother's  smile,  o^ 
hear  her  gentle  voice ;  and  then  a  veil  seemed  lifted  from  his  memory. 


6<K'.  POSTHUMOUS    PAPfiRS    OS" 

aiid  words  of  kindness  unrequited,  and  warnings  despised,  and  promises 
broken,  thronged  upon  his  recollection  till  his  heart  failed  him,  and  he 
could  bear  it  no  longer. 

"  He  entered  the  church.  The  evening  service  was  concluded  and 
the  congregation  had  dispersed,  but  it  was  not  yet  closed.  His  steps 
echoed  through  the  low  building  with  a  hollow  sound,  and  he  almost 
feared  to  be  alone,  it  was  so  still  and  quiet.  He  looked  round  him. 
Nothing  was  changed.  The  place  seemed  smaller  than  it  used  to  be  ; 
but  there  were  the  old  monuments  on  which  he  had  gazed  with  childish 
awe  a  thousand  times ;  the  little  pulpit  with  its  faded  cushion  ;  the 
Communion  table  before  which  he  had  so  often  repeated  the  Com- 
mandments he  had  reverenced  as  a  child,  and  forgotten  as  a  man.  He 
approached  the  old  seat ;  it  looked  cold  and  desolate.  The  cushion  had 
been  removed,  and  the  Bible  was  not  there.  Perhaps  his  mother  now 
occupied  a  poorer  seat,  or  possibly  she  had  grown  infirm  and  could  not 
reach  the  church  alone.  He  dared  not  think  of  what  he  feared.  A  cold 
feeling  crept  over  him,  and  he  trembled  violently,  as  he  turned  away. 

"  An  old  man  entered  the  porch  just  as  he  reached  it.  Edmunds 
started  back  for  he  knew  him  well ;  many  a  time  had  he  watched  him 
digging  graves  in  the  churchyard.  What  would  he  say  to  the  returned 
convict  ?  The  old  man  raised  his  eyes  to  the  stranger's  face,  bid  him 
*good  evening,'  and  walked  slowly  on.     He  had  forgotten  him. 

*'  He  walked  down  the  hill,  and  through  the  village.  The  weather 
was  warm,  and  the  people  were  sitting  at  their  doors,  or  strolling  in 
their  little  gardens  as  he  passed,  enjoying  the  serenity  of  the  evening, 
and  their  rest  from  labour.  Many  a  look  was  turned  towards  him,  and 
many  a  doubtful  glance  he  cast  on  either  side  to  see  whether  any  knew 
and  shunned  him.  There  were  strange  faces  in  almost  every  house ; 
in  some  he  recognised  the  burly  form  of  some  old  schoolfellow — a 
boy  when  he  last  saw  him — surrounded  by  a  troop  of  merry  chil- 
dren ;  in  others  he  saw,  seated  in  an  easy-chair  at  the  cottage  door  a 
feeble  and  infirm  old  man,  whom  he  only  remembered  as  a  hale  and 
hearty  labourer ;  but  they  had  all  forgotten  him,  and  he  passed  on 
unknown. 

"  The  last  soft  light  of  the  setting  sun  had  fallen  on  the  earth,  casting 
a  rich  glow  on  the  yellow  corn  sheaves,  and  lengthening  the  shadows  of 
the  orchard  trees,  as  he  stood  before  the  old  house — the  home  of  his  in- 
fancy, to  which  his  heart  had  yearned  with  an  intensity  of  affection  not 
to  be  described,  through  long  and  weary  years  of  captivity  and  sorrow. 
The  paling  was  low — though  he  well  remembered  the  time,  when  it  had 
seemed  a  high  wall  to  him ;  and  he  looked  over  into  the  old  garden. 
There  were  more  seeds  and  gayer  flowers  than  there  used  to  be,  but 
there  were  the  old  trees  still — the  very  tree,  under  which  he  had  lain  a 
thousand  times  when  tired  with  playing  in  the  sun,  and  felt  the  soft 
mild  sleep  of  happy  boyhood  steal  gently  upon  him.  There  were  voices 
within  the  house.  He  listened  but  they  fell  strangely  upon  his  ear ;  he 
knew  them  not.  They  were  merry  too ;  and  he  well  knew  that  his  poor 
old  mother  could  not  be  cheerful,  and  he  away.  The  door  opened,  and 
a  group  of  little  children  bounded  out,  shouting  and  romping.  The 
father  with    a  little  boy  in  his  arras,  appeared  at  the  door,  and  they 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  HI 

crowded  round  him,  clapping  their  tiny  hands,  and  dragging  him  out, 
to  join  their  joyous  sports.  The  convict  thought  on  the  many  times  he 
had  shrunk  from  his  father's  sight  in  that  very  place.  He  remembered 
how  often  he  had  buried  his  trembling  head  beneath  the  bed-clothes,  and 
heard  the  harsh  word,  and  the  hard  stripe,  and  his  mother's  wailing;  and 
though  the  man  sobbed  aloud  with  agony  of  mind  as  he  left  the  spot, 
his  fist  was  clenched,  and  his  teeth  were  set,  in  fierce  and  deadly  passion. 
"  And  such  was  the  return  to  which  he  had  looked  through  the 
weary  perspective  of  many  years,  and  for  which  he  had  undergone  so 
much  suffering  I  No  face  of  welcome,  no  look  of  forgiveness,  no  house 
to  receive,  no  hand  to  help  him — and  this  too  in  the  old  village.  What 
was  his  loneliness  in  the  wild  thick  woods  where  man  was  never  seen, 
to  this! 

*'  He  felt  that  in  the  distant  land  of  his  bondage  and  infamy,  he  had 
thought  of  his  native  place  as  it  was  when  he  left  it ; — not  as  it  would 
be,  when  he  returned.  The  sad  reality  struck  coldly  at  his  heart,  and 
his  spirit  sank  within  him.  He  had  not  courage  to  make  inquiries,  or 
to  present  himself  to  the  only  person  who  was  likely  to  receive  him 
with  kindness  and  compassion.  He  walked  slowly  on ;  and  shunning 
the  road-side  like  a  guilty  man,  turned  into  a  meadow  he  well  remem- 
bered ;  and  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  threw  himself  upon  the  grass. 
"  He  had  not  observed  that  a  man  was  lying  on  the  bank  beside 
\im  ;  his  garments  rustled  as  he  turned  round  to  steal  a  look  at  the 
•lew  comer:  and  Edmunds  raised  his  head. 

"  The  man  had  moved  into  a  sitting  posture.  His  body  was  much 
bent,  and  his  face  was  wrinkled  and  yellow.  His  dress  denoted  him 
an  inmate  of  the  workhouse :  he  had  the  appearance  of  being 
very  old,  but  it  looked  more  the  effect  of  dissipation  or  disease,  than 
length  of  years.  He  was  staring  hard  at  the  stranger,  and  though  his 
eyes  were  lustreless  and  heavy  at  first,  they  appeared  to  glow  with  an 
unnatural  and  alarmed  expression  after  they  had  been  fixed  upon  him 
for  a  short  time,  until  they  seemed  to  be  starting  from  their  sockets. 
Edmunds  gradually  raised  himself  to  his  kneiis,  and  looked  more  and 
more  earnestly  upon  the  old  man's  face.  They  gazed  upon  each  other 
in  silence. 

*'  The  old  man  was  ghastly  pale.  He  shuddered  and  tottered  to  his 
feet.  Edmunds  sprang  to  his.  He  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two.  Ed- 
munds advanced. 

"  *  Let  me  hear  you  speak,'  said  the  convict  in  a  thick  broken  voice. 
*•  *  Stand  off,'  cried  the  old  man,  with  a  dreadful  oath.      The  convict 
drew  closer  to  him. 

*' '  Stand  off,'  shrieked  the  old  man.  Furious  with  terror  he  raised 
his  stick,  and  struck  Edmunds  a  heavy  blow  across  the  face. 

"  *  Father — devil,'  murmured  the  convict,  between  his  set  teeth.  He 
rushed  wildly  foward,  and  clenched  the  old  man  by  the  throat — but  he 
was  his  father ;  and  his  arm  fell  powerless  by  his  side. 

'*  The  old  man  uttered  a  loud  yell  which  rang  through  the  lonely 
fields  like  the  howl  of  an  evil  spirit.  His  face  turned  black  :  the  gore 
rushed  from  his  mouth  and  nose,  and  dyed  the  grass  a  deep  dark  red,  as 
he  staggered  and  fell.     He  had  ruptured  a  blood  vessel :  and  he  was  a 


62  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

dead  man  before  his  son  could   raise  him  from  that  thick,  sluggish, 

pool. 

*         .    *  *  *  *  * 

"  In  that  corner  of  the  churchyard,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  after  a 
silence  of  a  few  moments,  "  In  that  corner  of  the  churchyard  of  which 
I  have  before  spoken,  there  lies  buried  a  man,  who  was  in  my  employ- 
ment for  three  years  after  this  event :  and  who  was  truly  contrite, 
penitent,  and  humbled,  if  ever  man  was.  No  one  save  myself  knew 
in  that  man's  life-time  who  he  was,  or  whence  he  came : — it  was  John 
Edmunds  the  returned  convict." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HOW  MR.  WINKLE,  INSTEAD  OF  SHOOTING  AT  THE  PIGEON  AND 
KILLING  THE  CROW,  SHOT  AT  THE  CROW  AND  WOUNDED  THE 
PIGEON  ;  HOW  THE  DINGLEY  DELL  CRICKET  CLUB,  PLAYED  ALL 
MUGGLETON,  AND  HOW  ALL  MUGGLETON  DINED  AT  THE  DINGLEY 
DELL  EXPENSE  :  WITH  OTHER  INTERESTING  AND  INSTRUCTIVE 
MATTERS, 

The  fatiguing  adventures  of  the  day  or  the  somniferous  influence  of 
the  clergyman's  tale,  operated  so  strongly  on  the  drowsy  tendencies  of 
Mr.  Pickwick,  that,  in  less  than  five  minutes  after  he  had  been  shown 
to  his  comfortable  bed-room,  he  fell  into  a  sound  and  dreamless  sleep, 
from  which  he  was  only  awakened  by  the  morning  sun  darting  his 
bright  beams  reproachfully  into  the  apartment.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  no 
sluggard  ;  and  he  sprang  like  an  ardent  warrior  from  his  tent — bedstead. 

*'  Pleasant,  pleasant  country,"  sighed  the  enthusiastic  gentleman,  as 
he  opened  his  lattice  window.  "  Who  could  live  to  gaze  from  day  to 
day  on  bricks  and  slates,  who  had  once  felt  the  influence  of  a  scene  like 
this  ?  Who  could  continue  to  exist,  where  there  are  no  cows  but  the 
cows  on  the  chimney-pots  ;  nothing  redolent  of  Pan  but  pan-tiles ;  no 
crop  but  stone  crop  ?  Who  could  bear  to  drag  out  a  life  in  such  a 
spot  ?  Who  I  ask  could  endure  it  ? "  and,  having  cross-examined 
solitude  after  the  most  approved  precedents,  at  considerable  length, 
Mr.  Pickwick  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  lattice,  and  looked  around  him. 

The  rich,  sweet  smell  of  the  hay -ricks  rose  to  his  chamber  window; 
the  hundred  perfumes  of  the  little  flower-garden  beneath  scented  the 
air  around ;  the  deep-green  meadows  shone  in  the  morning  dew  that 
glistened  on  every  leaf  as  it  trembled  in  the  gentle  air ;  and  the  birds 
sang  as  if  every  sparkling  drop  were  to  them  a  fountain  of  inspiration. 
Mr.  Pickwick  fell  into  an  enchanting,  and  delicious  reverie. 

"  Hallo  I "  was  the  sound  that  roused  him. 

He  looked  to  the  right  but  he  saw  nobody;  his  eyes  wandered  to  the 
left,  and  pierced  the  prospect ;  he  stared  into  the  sky,  but  he  wasn't 
wanted  there  ;  and  then  he  did  what  a  common  mind  would  have  done 
at  once — looked  into  the  garden,  and  there  saw  Mr.  Wardle. 

"  How  are  you  ?"  said  that  good-humoured  individual,  out  of  breath 
with  his  own  anticipations  of  pleasure.     "  Beautiful  morning,  ain't  it? 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  63 

Glad  to  see  you  up  so  early.     Make  haste  down,  and  come  out.     I'll 
wait  for  you  here." 

Mr.  Pickwick  needed  no  second  invitation.  Ten  minutes  suffice<l 
for  the  completion  of  his  toilet,  and  Ht  the  expiration  of  that  time  he 
was  by  the  old  gentleman's  side. 

"  Hallo!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  in  his  turn:  seeing^  that  his  companion 
was  armed  with  a  gun,  and  that  another  lay  ready  on  the  grass. 
"  What's  going  forward  ?  " 

"  Why,  your  friend  and  I,"  replied  the  host,  "  are  going  out  rook- 
shooting  before  breakfast.     He  's  a  very  good  shot  ain't  he?  " 

"  I've  heard  him  say  he  'a  a  capital  one,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick ; 
"  but  I  never  saw  him  aim  at  anything." 

"  Well,"  said  the  host,  "  I  wish  he'd  come.     Joe — Joe." 

The  fat  boy,  who  under  the  exciting  influence  of  the  morning  did 
not  appear  to  be  more  than  three  parts  and  a  fraction  asleep,  emerged 
from  the  house. 

**  Go  up,  and  call  the  gentleman,  and  tell  him  he  '11  find  me  and 
Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  rookery.  Show  the  gentleman  the  way  there ; 
d'ye  hear?  " 

The  boy  departed  to  execute  his  commission ;  and  the  host,  carrying 
both  guns  like  a  second  Robinson  Crusoe,  led  the  way  from  the 
garden. 

"  This  is  the  place,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  pausing  after  a  few 
minutes  walking,  in  an  avenue  of  trees.  The  information  was  unneces- 
sary ;  for  the  incessant  cawing  of  the  unconscious  rooks,  sufficiently 
indicated  their  whereabout. 

The  old  gentleman  laid  one  gun  on  the  ground,  and  loaded  the 
other. 

**  Here  they  are,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  and  as  he  spoke,  the  forms  of 
Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  Mr.  Winkle  appeared  in  the  distance. 
The  fat  boy,  not  being  quite  certain  which  gentleman  he  was  directed 
to  call,  had  with  peculiar  sagacity,  and  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  any 
mistake,  called  them  all. 

"  Come  along,"  shouted  the  old  gentlemen,  addressing  Mr.  Winkle ; 
"  a  keen  hand  like  you  ought  to  have  been  up  long  ago,  even  to  such 
poor  work  as  this." 

Mr.  Winkle  responded  with  a  forced  smile,  and  took  up  the  spare 
gun  with  an  expression  of  countenance  which  a  metaphysical  rook, 
impressed  with  a  foreboding  of  his  approaching  death  by  violence,  may 
be  supposed  to  assume.  It  might  have  been  keenness,  but  it  looked 
remarkably  like  misery. 

The  old  gentleman  nodded ;  and  two  ragged  boys  who  had  been 
marshalled  to  the  spot  under  the  direction  of  the  infant  Lambert, 
forthwith  commenced  climbing  up  two  of  the  trees. 

"What  are  those  lads  for?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick  abruptly.  He 
was  rather  alarmed ;  for  he  was  not  quite  certain  but  that  the  distress 
of  the  agricultural  interest,  about  which  he  had  often  heard  a  great  deal, 
might  have  compelled  the  small  boys,  atttiehed  to  the  soil,  to  earn  a  pre- 
carious and  hazardous  subsistence  by  making  marks  of  themselves  for 
inexperienced  sportsmen. 


64  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 

"  Only  to  start  the  game,"  replied  Mr.  Wardie,  laughing. 

"  To  what  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Why,  in  plain  English  to  frighten  the  rooks." 

«0h!    Is  that  all?" 

*'  You  are  satisfied  ?  " 

"  Quite." 

"  Very  well.     Shall  I  begin  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  glad  of  any  respite. 

"  Stand  aside,  then.     Now  for  it." 

The  boy  shouted,  and  shook  a  branch  with  a  nest  on  it.  Half  a 
dozen  young  rooks  in  violent  conversation,  flew  out  to  ask  what  the 
matter  was.  The  old  gentleman  fired  by  way  of  reply.  Down  fell 
one  bird,  and  off  flew  the  others. 

"  Take  him  up,  Joe,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

There  was  a  smile  upon  the  youth's  face  as  he  advanced.  Indistinct 
visions  of  rook-pie  floated  through  his  imagination.  He  laughed  as  he 
retired  with  the  bird — it  was  a  plump  one. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Winkle,"  said  the  host,  reloading  his  own  gun.  "  Fire 
away." 

Mr.  Winkle  advanced,  and  levelled  his  gun.  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his 
friends  cowered  involuntarily  to  escape  damage  from  the  heavy  fall  of 
rooks,  which  they  felt  quite  certain  would  be  occasioned  by  the  devastat- 
ing barrel  of  their  friend.  There  was  a  solemn  pause — a  shout — a 
flapping  of  wings — a  faint  click. 

"  Hallo  I  "  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Won't  it  go  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Missed  fire,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  very  pale,  probably  from 
disappointment. 

"  Odd,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  taking  the  gun.  "  Never  knew  one 
of  them  miss  fire  before.     Why,  I  don't  see  anything  of  the  cap." 

"  Bless  my  soul,"  said  Mr.  Winkle.  "  I  declare  I  forgot  the 
cap  I" 

The  slight  omission  was  rectified.  Mr.  Pickwick  crouched  again. 
Mr.  Winkle  stepped  forward  with  an  air  of  determination  and  resolu- 
tion ;  and  Mr.  Tupman  looked  out  from  behind  a  tree.  The  boy 
shouted ; — four  birds  flew  out.  Mr.  Winkle  fired.  There  was  a  scream 
as  of  an  individual — not  a  rook — in  corporeal  anguish.  Mr.  Tupman 
had  saved  the  lives  of  innumerable  unofi'ending  birds,  by  receiving  a 
portion  of  the  charge  in  his  left  arm. 

To  describe  the  confusion  that  ensued  would  be  impossible.  To  tell 
how  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  first  transports  of  his  emotion  called  Mr. 
Winkle  "  Wretch  I  "  how  Mr.  Tupman  lay  prostrate  on  the  ground ; 
and  how  Mr.  Winkle  knelt  horror-stricken  beside  him;  how  Mr.  Tup- 
man called  distractedly  upon  some  feminine  Christian  name,  and  then 
opened  first  one  eye,  and  then  the  other,  and  then  fell  back  and  shut 
them  both  ; — all  this  would  be  as  difficult  to  describe  in  detail,  as  it  would 
be  to  depict  the  gradual  recovering  of  the  unfortunate  individual,  the 
binding  up  his  arm  with  pocket-handkerchiefs,  and  the  conveying  him 
back  by  slow  degrees  supported  by  the  arms  of  his  anxious  friends. 

They  drew  near  the  house.     The  ladies  were  at  the  garden-gate, 


THE    PICKWrcK   CIVB.  65 

wahiu^  \jt  their  arrival  oiul  their  hreakfust.  The  spinster  aunt 
appeared  ;  she  smiled,  and  beckoned  them  to  walk  quicker.  'Twas 
evident  she  knew  not  of  the  disaster.  Poor  thing!  There  are  times 
when  ignorance  is  bliss  indeed. 

They  approached  nearer. 

"  Why,  what  i.f  the  matter  with  the  little  old  gentleman  ?  "  said 
Isabella  Wardle.  The  spinster  aunt  heeded  not  the  remark ;  she 
thought  it  applied  to  Mr.  Pickwick.  In  her  eyes  Tracy  Tupman  was 
a  youth ;  she  viewed  his  years  through  a  diminishing  glass. 

"  Don't  be  fri^'^htened,"  called  out  the  old  host  fearful  of  alarming 
his  daughters.  The  little  party  had  crowded  so  completely  round  Mr. 
Tupman,  that  they  could  not  yet  clearly  discern  the  nature  of  the 
accident. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  said  the  host. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  screamed  the  ladies. 

"  Mr.  Tupman  has  met  with  a  little  accident ;  that 's  all." 

The  spinster  aunt  uttered  a  piercing  scream,  burst  into  an  hysteric 
laugh,  and  fell  backwards  in  the  arms  of  her  nieces. 

"  Throw  some  cold  water  over  her,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  No,  no,"  murmured  the  spinster  aunt ;  "  I  am  better  now.      Bella, 

Emily — a  surgeon  !     Is  he  wounded? — Is  he  dead  ? — Is  he ha,  ha, 

ha!"  Here  the  spinster  aunt  burst  into  fit  number  two,  of  hysteric 
laughter,  interspersed  with  screams. 

"  Calm  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  affected  almost  to  tears  by  this 
expression  of  sympathy  with  his  sufferings.  *'  Dear,  dear  Madam,  calm 
yourself." 

"  It  is  his  voice  !"  exclaimed  the  spinster  aunt ;  and  strong  symptoms 
of  fit  number  three  developed  themselves  forthwith. 

"  Do  not  agitate  yourself  I  entreat  you,  dearest  Madam,"  said  Mr. 
Tupman,  soothingly.     "  I  am  very  little  hurt,  I  assure  you." 

"  Then  you  are  not  dead  I"  ejaculated  the  hysterical  lady.  "  Oh,  say 
you  are  not  dead  !  " 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Rachael,"  interposed  Mr.  W^ardle,  rather  more 
roughly  than  was  quite  consistent  with  the  poetic  nature  of  the  scene. 
"  What  the  devil 's  the  use  of  his  saying  he  isn't  dead  ?" 

*'  No,  no,  I  am  not,"  said  Mr.  Tupman.  "  I  require  no  assistance 
but  yours.  Let  me  lean  on  your  arm,"  he  added,  in  a  whisper, 
"  Oh  Miss  Rachael !  "  The  agitated  female  advanced,  and  offered  her 
arm.  They  turned  into  the  breakfast  parlour.  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman 
gently  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  sank  upon  the  sofa. 

"  Are  you  faint?  "  inquired  the  anxious  Rachael. 

**  No,"  said  Mr.  Tupman.  "  It  is  nothing.  I  shall  be  better  pre- 
sently."    He  closed  his  eyes. 

'*  He  sleeps,"  murmured  the  spinster  aunt.  (His  organs  of  vision 
had  been  closed  nearly  twenty  seconds).  "Dear-^dear — Mr.  Tup- 
man." 

Mr.  Tupman  jumped  up — **  Oh,  say  those  words  again  ! "  he  ex- 
claimed. 

The  lady  started.  "  Surely  you  did  not  hear  them  I "  she  said, 
bashfully. 


66  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Oh  yes  I  did  !  *'  replied  Mr.  Tupman ;  "  repeat  them.  If  you  would 
have  me  recover,  repeat  them." 

"  Hush  I "  said  the  Lady.     "  My  brother." 

Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  resumed  his  former  position ;  and  Mr.  Wardle 
accompanied  by  a  surgeon,  entered  the  room. 

The  arm  was  examined,  the  wound  dressed,  and  pronounced  to  be  a 
very  slight  one;  and  the  minds  of  the  company  having  been  thus  satis- 
fied, they  proceeded  to  satisfy  their  appetites  with  countenances  to 
which  an  expression  of  cheerfulness  was  again  restored.  Mr.  Pickwick 
alone  was  silent  and  reserved.  Doubt  and  distrust  were  exhibited  in 
his  countenance.  His  confidence  in  Mr.  Winkle  had  been  shaken — 
greatly  shaken — by  the  proceedings  of  the  morning. 

"  Are  you  a  cricketer?"  inquired  Mr.  Wardle  of  the  marksman. 

At  any  other  time,  Mr.  Winkle  would  have  replied  in  the  affirmative. 
He  felt  the  delicacy  of  his  situation,  and  modestly  replied,  "  No." 

"  Are  you,  Sir  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

**  I  was  once  upon  a  time,"  replied  the  host ;  "  but  I  have  given  it 
up  now.     I  subscribe  to  the  club  here,  but  I  don't  play." 

**  The  grand  match  is  played  to-day,  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  It  is,"  replied  the  host.      "  Of  course  you  would  like  to  see  it." 

"  I,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  am  delighted  to  view  any  sports 
which  may  be  safely  indulged  in,  and  in  which  the  impotent  effects  of 
unskilful  people  do  not  endanger  human  life."  Mr.  Pickwick  paused, 
and  looked  steadily  on  Mr.  Winkle,  who  quailed  beneath  his  leader's 
searching  glance.  The  great  man  withdrew  his  eyes  after  a  few  minutes, 
and  added  :  "  Shall  we  be  justified  in  leaving  our  wounded  friend  to  the 
care  of  the  ladies  ?  " 

"  You  cannot  leave  me  in  better  hands,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Quite  impossible,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

It  was  therefore  settled  that  Mr.  Tupman  should  be  left  at  home 
in  charge  of  the  females ;  and  that  the  remainder  of  the  guests  under 
the  guidance  of  Mr.  Wardle  should  proceed  to  the  spot,  where  was  to 
be  held  that  trial  of  skill,  which  had  roused  all  Muggleton  from  its 
torpor,  and  innoculated  Dingley  Dell  with  a  fever  of  excitement. 

As  their  walk  which  was  not  above  two  miles  long,  lay  through 
shady  lanes,  and  sequestered  footpaths  ;  and  as  their  conversation  turned 
upon  the  delightful  scenery  by  which  they  were  on  every  side  sur- 
rounded, Mr.  Pickwick  was  almost  inclined  to  regret  the  expedition 
they  had  used,  when  he  found  himself  in  the  main  street  of  the  town 
of  Muggleton. 

Everybody  whose  genius  has  a  topographical  bent,  knows  perfectly 
well,  that  Muggleton  is  a  corporate  town,  with  a  mayor,  burgesses,  and 
freemen ;  and  anybody  who  has  consulted  the  addresses  of  the  mayor 
to  the  freemen,  or  the  freemen  to  the  mayor,  or  both  to  the  corpora- 
tion, or  all  three  to  Parliament,  will  learn  from  thence  what  they  ought 
to  have  known  before,  that  Muggleton  is  an  ancient  and  loyal  borough, 
mingling  a  zealous  advocacy  of  Christian  principles  with  a  devoted 
attachment  to  commercial  rights  ;  in  demonstration  whereof,  the  mayor, 
corporation,  and  other  inhabitants,  have  presented  at  divers  times,  no 
fewer  than  one  thousand  four  hundred  and  twenty  petitions,  against  the 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  (17 

continuance  of  negro  slavery  abroad,  and  on  equal  number  against  any 
interference  with  the  factory  system  at  home;  sixty-eight  for  permit- 
ting the  sale  of  benefices  in  the  church,  and  eighty-six  for  abohshing 
Sunday  trading  in  the  streets. 

Mr.  Pickwick  stood  in  the  principal  street  of  this  illustrious  town, 
and  gazed  with  an  air  of  curiosity  not  unmixed  with  interest,  on  the 
objects  around  him.  There  was  an  open  square  for  the  market-place  ; 
and  in  the  centre  of  it,  a  large  inn  with  a  sign-post  in  front,  displaying 
an  object  very  common  in  art,  but  rarely  met  with  in  nature — to  wit, 
a  blue  lion  with  three  bow  legs  in  the  air,  balancing  himself  on  the 
extreme  point  of  the  centre  claw  of  his  fourth  foot.  There  were, 
within  sight,  an  auctioneer's  and  fire-agency  office,  a  corn-factor's,  a 
linen  draper's,  a  saddler's,  a  distiller's,  a  grocer's,  and  a  shoe  shop — the 
last-mentioned  warehouse  being  also  appropriated  to  the  diffusion  of  hats, 
bonnets,  wearing  apparel,  cotton  umbrellas,  and  useful  knowledge. 
There  was  a  red-brick  house  with  a  small  paved  court-yard  in  front, 
which  anybody  might  have  known  belonged  to  the  attorney  :  and  there 
was,  moreover,  another  red-brick  house  with  Venetian  blinds,  and  a 
large  brass  door-plate,  with  a  very  legible  announcement  that  it  be- 
longed to  the  surgeon.  A  few  boys  were  making  their  way  to  the 
cricket-field ;  and  two  or  three  shopkeepers  who  were  standing  at  their 
doors,  looked  as  if  they  should  like  to  be  making  their  way  to  the  same 
spot,  as  indeed  to  all  appearance  they  might  have  done,  without  losing 
any  great  amount  of  custom  thereby.  Mr.  Pickwick  having  paused 
to  make  these  observations,  to  be  noted  down  at  a  more  convenient 
period,  hastened  to  rejoin  his  friends,  who  had  turned  out  of  the  main 
street,  and  were  already  within  sight  of  the  field  of  battle. 

The  wickets  were  pitched,  and  so  were  a  couple  of  marquees  for  the 
rest  and  refreshment  of  the  contending  parties.  The  game  had  not  yet 
commenced.  Two  or  three  Dingley  Dellers,  and  All-Muggletonians, 
were  amusing  themselves  with  a  majestic  air  by  throwing  the  ball  care- 
lessly from  hand  to  hand;  and  several  other  gentlemen  dressed  like 
them,  in  straw  hats,  flannel  jackets,  and  white  trowsers, — a  costume 
in  which  they  looked  very  much  like  amateur  stone-masons — were 
sprinkled  about  the  tents,  towards  one  of  which  Mr.  Wardle  con- 
ducted the  party. 

Several  dozen  of  *'  How-are-you's  ? "  hailed  the  old  gentleman's 
arrival;  and  a  general  raising  of  the  straw  hats,  and  bending  forward 
of  the  flannel  jackets,  followed  his  introduction  of  his  guests  as  gentle- 
men from  London,  who  were  extremely  anxious  to  witness  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  day,  with  which,  he  had  no  doubt,  they  would  be  greatly 
delighted. 

"  You  had  better  step  into  the  marquee  I  think.  Sir,"  said  one  very 
stout  gentleman,  whose  body  and  legs  looked  like  half  a  gigantic  roll 
of  flannel,  elevated  on  a  couple  of  inflated  pillow-cases. 

"  You'll  find  it  much  pleasanter  Sir,"  urged  another  stout  gentle- 
man, who  strongly  resembled  the  other  half  of  the  roll  of  flannel 
aforesaid. 

"  You're  very  good,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  This  way,"  said  the  first  speaker;  "  they  notch  in  here — it's  the 

1 


08  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

best  place  in  the  whole  field;"  and  the  cricketer,  panting  on  before, 
.preceded  them  to  the  tent. 

"  Capital  game — smart  sport — fine  exercise — very,"  were  the  words 
which  fell  upon  Mr.  Pickwick's  ear  as  he  entered  the  tent ;  and  the 
first  object  that  met  his  eyes,  was  his  green-coated  friend  of  the 
Rochester  coach,  holding  forth,  to  the  no  small  delight  and  edification 
of  a  select  circle  of  the  chosen  of  AU-Muggleton.  His  dress  was 
slightly  improved,  and  he  wore  boots ;  but  there  was  no  mistaking 
him. 

The  stranger  recognised  his  friends  immediately :  and,  darting  for- 
ward and  seizing  Mr.  Pickwick  by  the  hand,  dragged  him  to  a  seat, 
with  his  usual  impetuosity,  talking  all  the  while  as  if  the  whole  of  the 
arrangements  were  under  his  especial  patronage  and  direction. 

"  This  way — this  way — capital  fun — lots  of  beer — hogsheads ;  rounds 
of  beef— bullocks ;  mustard — cart  loads  ;  glorious  day— -down  with 
you — make  yourself  at  home— glad  to  see  you — very." 

Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  as  he  was  bid,  and  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass  also  complied  with  the  directions  of  their  mysterious  friend. 
Mr.  Wardle  looked  on,  in  silent  wonder. 

"  Mr.  Wardle — a  friend  of  mine,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Friend  of  yours  ! — My  dear  Sir,  how  are  you  ? — Friend  of  my 
friend's— give  me  your  hand.  Sir"— and  the  stranger  grasped  Mr. 
Wardle's  hand  with  all  the  fervour  of  a  close  intimacy  of  many  years, 
and  then  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two  as  if  to  take  a  full  survey  of  his 
face  and  figure,  and  then  shook  hands  with  him  again,  if  possible,  more 
warmly  than  before. 

"  Well;  and  how  came  you  here?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile 
in  which  benevolence  struggled  with  surprise. 

"  Come,"  replied  the  stranger — "  stopping  at  Crown — Crown  at 
Muggleton — met  a  party — flannel  jackets — white  trowsers — anchovy 
sandwiches — devilled  kidneys — splendid  fellows — glorious." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  sufficiently  versed  in  the  stranger's  system  of 
stenography  to  infer  from  this  rapid  and  disjointed  communication 
that  he  had,  somehow  or  other,  contracted  ah  acquaintance  with  the 
All-Muggletons,  which  he  bad  converted,  by  a  process  peculiar  to  him- 
self, into  that  extent  of  good  fellowship  on  which  a  general  invitation 
may  be  easily  founded.  His  curiosity  was  therefore  satisfied,  and  put- 
ting on  his  spectacles  he  prepared  himself  to  watch  the  play  which 
was  just  commencing. 

AU-Muggleton  had  the  first  innings ;  and  the  interest  became  intense 
when  Mr.  Dumkins  and  Mr.  Podder,  two  of  the  most  renowned  mem- 
bers of  that  most  distinguished  club,  walked,  bat  in  hand,  to  their 
respective  wickets.  Mr.  Luff'ey,  the  highest  ornament  of  Dingley  Dell 
was  pitched  to  bowl  against  the  redoubtable  Dumkins,  and  Mr.  Strug- 
gles was  selected  to  do  the  same  kind  office  for  the  hitherto  uncon- 
quered  Podder.  Several  players  were  stationed,  to  "  look  out,"  in 
different  parts  of  the  field,  and  each  fixed  himself  into  the  proper  atti- 
tude by  placing  one  hand  on  each  knee,  and  stooping  very  much  as  if 
he  were  "making  a  back"  for  some  beginner  at  leap-frog.  All 
the   regr.lar    players   do  this    sort  of    thing; — indeed    it's    gf^nerally 


'•-.-  ^ 


p 


THE    PICKWICK    CLITB.  09 

Biip}>o$etl  that  it  is  quite  impossible  to  look  out  properly  in  any  other 
position. 

The  umpires  were  stationed  behind  the  wickets  ;  the  scorers  were  pre- 
])ared  to  notch  the  runs ;  a  breathless  silence  ensued.  Mr.  LufFey  retired 
a  few  paces  behind  the  wicket  of  the  passive  Podder,  and  applied  the 
hall  to  his  right  eye  for  several  seconds.  Dumkins  confidently  awaited 
its  coming-,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  motions  of  Luffey. 

"  Play,"  suddenly  cried  the  bowler.  The  ball  flew  from  his  hand 
straight  and  swift  towards  the  centre  stump  of  the  wicket.  The  wary 
Dumkins  was  on  the  alert ;  it  fell  upon  the  tip  of  the  hat,  and  bounded 
far  away  over  the  heads  of  the  scouts,  who  had  just  stooped  low  enough 
to  let  it  fly  over  them. 

**  Run — run — another. — Now,  then,  throw  her  up — up  with  her — 
stop  there — another — no — yes — no — throw  her  up,  throw  her  up." — 
Such  were  the  shouts  which  followed  the  stroke ;  and,  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  which  AU-Muggleton  had  scored  two.  Nor  was  Podder  behind- 
hand in  earning  laurels  wherewith  to  garnish  himself  and  Muggleton. 
He  blocked  the  doubtful  balls,  missed  the  bad  ones,  took  the  good  ones, 
and  sent  them  flying  to  all  parts  of  the  field.  The  scouts  were  hot 
and  tired  ;  the  bowlers  were  changed  and  bowled  till  their  arms  ached ; 
but  Dumkins  and  Podder  remained  unconquered.  Did  an  elderly 
gentleman  essay  to  stop  the  progress  of  the  ball,  it  rolled  between  his 
legs,  or  slipped  between  his  fingers.  Did  a  slim  gentleman  try  to  catch 
it,  it  struck  him  on  the  nose,  and  bounded  pleasantly  off  with  redoubled 
violence,  while  the  slim  gentleman's  eyes  filled  with  water,  and  his 
form  writhed  with  anguish.  Was  it  thrown  straight  up  to  the  wicket, 
Dumkins  had  reached  it  before  the  ball.  In  short,  when  Dumkins  was 
caught  out,  and  Podder  stumped  out,  AU-Muggleton  had  notched  some 
fifty-four,  while  the  score  of  the  Dingley  Dellers  was  as  blank  as  their 
faces.  The  advantage  was  too  great  to  be  recovered.  In  vain  did  the 
eager  Lufl'ey,  and  the  enthusiastic  Struggles,  do  all  that  skill  and  expe- 
rience could  suggest,  to  regain  the  ground  Dingley  Dell  had  lost  in  the 
contest; — it  was  of  no  avail;  and  in  an  early  period  of  the  v^inning 
game  Dingley  Dell  gave  in,  and  allowed  the  superior  prowess  of  Al'- 
Muggleton. 

The  stranger,  meanwhile,  had  been  eating,  drinking,  and  talking, 
without  cessation.  At  every  good  stroke  he  expressed  his  satisfaction 
and  approval  of  the  player  in  a  most  condescending  and  patronising 
manner,  which  could  not  fail  to  have  been  highly  gratifying  to  the 
party  concerned ;  while  at  every  bad  attempt  at  a  catch,  and  every 
failure  to  stop  the  ball,  he  launched  his  personal  displeasure  at  the  head 
of  the  devoted  individual  in  such  denunciations  as — "  Ah,  ah  ! — stupid" 
—  "  Now  butter-fingers  "  —  "  Muff""  —  "  Humbug"  — and  so  forth  — 
ejaculations  which  seemed  to  establish  him  in  the  opinion  of  all  around, 
as  a  most  excellent  and  undeniable  judge  of  the  whole  art  and  mystery 
of  the  noble  game  of  cricket. 

"  Capital  game — well  played — some  strokes  admirable,"  said  the 
stranger  as  both  sides  crowded  into  the  tent,  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
game. 

I  2 


70  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  You  have  played  it  Sir  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Wardle,  who  had  been 
much  amused  by  his  loquacity. 

"  Played  it !  Think  I  have — thousands  of  times — not  here — West 
Indies — exciting:  thing — hot  work — very." 

"  It  must  be  rather  a  warm  pursuit  in  such  a  climate/'  observed  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Warm  ! — red  hot — scorching — glowing.  Played  a  match  once — 
single  wicket — friend  the  Colonel — Sir  Thomas  Blazo — who  should 
get  the  greatest  number  of  runs. — Won  the  toss — first  innings — seven 
o'clock,  A.M. — six  natives  to  look  out — went  in  ;  kept  in — heat  intense 
— natives  all  fainted — taken  away — fresh  half-dozen  ordered — fainted 
also — Blazo  bowling— supported  by  two  natives— couldn't  bowl  me 
out — fainted  too — cleared  away  the  Colonel — wouldn't  give  in — ^faithful 
attendant — Quanko  Samba — last  man  left — sun  so  hot,  bat  in  blisters, 
ball  scorched  brown — five  hundred  and  seventy  runs — rather  ex- 
hausted— Quanko  mustered  up  last  remaining  strength — bowled  me  out 
— had  a  bath,  and  went  out  to  dinner  " 

"  And  what  became  of  what's-his-name,  Sir?"  inquired  an  old 
gentleman. 

"Blazo?" 

«  No — the  other  gentleman.'* 

"Quanko  Samba?" 

"  Yes  Sir." 

"  Poor  Quanko — never  recovered  it — bowled  on,  on  my  account — 
bowled  off,  on  his  own — died  Sir."  Here  the  stranger  buried  his 
countenance  in  a  brown  jug,  but  whether  to  hide  his  emotion  or  imbibe 
its  contents,  we  cannot  distinctly  affirm.  We  only  know  that  he  paused 
suddenly,  drew  a  long  and  deep  breath,  and  looked  anxiously  on,  as  two 
of  the  principal  members  of  the  Dingley  Dell  club  approached  Mr. 
Pickwick,  and  said — 

"  We  are  about  to  partake  of  a  plain  dinner  at  the  Blue  Lion,  Sir; 
we  hope  you  and  your  friends  will  join  us." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  "  among  our  friends  we  include  Mr. 
;"  and  he  looked  towards  the  stranger. 

"  Jingle,"  said  that  versatile  gentleman,  taking  the  hint  at  o^nee. 
*'  Jingle— Alfred  Jingle,  Esq.,  of  No  Hall,  Nowhere." 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"So  shall  I,"  said  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle,  drawing  one  arm  through  Mr. 
Pickwick's,  and  another  through  Mr  Wardle's,  as  he  whispered  confi- 
dentially in  the  ear  of  the  former  gentleman  : — 

"  Devilish  good  dinner— cold,  but  capital — peeped  into  the  room 
this  morning — fowls  and  pies,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing — pleasant 
fellows  these — well  behaved,  too— very." 

There  being  no  further  preliruinaries  to  arrange,  the  company  strag- 
gled into  the  town  in  little  knots  of  twos  and  threes;  and  within  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  were  all  seated  in  the  great  room  of  the  Blue  Lion 
Inn  Muggleton — iUr.  Dumkins  acting  as  chairman,  and  Mr.  Luffey 
officiating  as  vice. 

There  was  a  vast  deal  of  talking  and  rattling  of  knives  and  forks, 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  71 

and  plates  :  a  great  running  about  of  three  ponderous  headed  waiters, 
and  a  rapid  disappearance  of  the  substantial  viands  on  the  table  ;  to 
each  and  every  of  which  item  of  confusion,  the  facetious  Mr.  Jingle 
lent  the  aid  of  half-a-dozen  ordinary  men  at  least.  When  everybody 
had  eat  as  much  as  they  could,  the  cloth  was  removed,  bottles,  g-lassres, 
and  dessert  were  placed  on  the  table ;  and  the  waiters  withdrew  to  "clear 
away,"  or  in  other  words,  to  aj)propriate  to  their  own  private  use  and 
emolument,  whatever  remnants  of  the  eatables  and  drinkables  they 
could  contrive  to  lay  their  hands  on. 

Amidst  the  general  hum  of  mirth  and  conversation  that  ensued, 
there  was  a  little  man  with  a  puffy  Say-nothing-to-me,-or-ril-contradict- 
you  sort  of  countenance,  who  remained  very  quiet ;  occasionally  look- 
ing round  him  when  the  conversation  slackened,  as  if  he  contemplated 
j)utting  in  something  very  weighty  :  and  now  and  then  bursting  into 
a  short  cough  of  inexpressible  grandeur.  At  length,  during  a  moment  of 
comparative  silence,  the  little  man  called  out  in  a  very  loud,  solemn  voice, 

"  Mr.  Luffey." 

Everybody  was  hushed  into  a  profound  stillness  as  the  individual 
addressed,  replied, 

'♦  Sir." 

"  I  wish  to  address  a  few  words  to  you  Sir,  if  you  will  entreat  the 
gentlemen  to  fill  their  glasses." 

Mr.  Jingle  uttered  a  patronizing  "  hear,  hear,"  which  was  responded 
to,  by  the  remainder  of  the  company  :  and  the  glasses  having  been 
filled  the  Vice-President  assumed  an  air  of  wisdom  in  a  state  of  pro- 
found attention ;  and  said, 

**  Mr.  Staple." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  little  man,  rising,  "  I  wish  to  address  what  I  have  to 
say  to  you  and  not  to  our  worthy  chairman,  because  our  worthy  chair- 
man is  in  some  measure — I  may  say  in  a  great  degree — the  subject  of 
what  I  have  to  say,  or  I  may  say  to — to — 

"  State,"  suggested  Mr.  Jingle. 

— "  Yes,  to  state"  said  the  little  man,  "  I  thank  my  honourable 
friend,  if  he  will  allow  me  to  call  him  so — (four  hears,  and  one  cer- 
tainly from  Mr.  Jingle) — for  the  suggestion.  Sir,  I  am  a  Deller — a 
Dingley  Deller,  (cheers).  I  cannot  lay  claim  to  the  honour  of  forming 
an  item  in  the  population  of  Muggleton ;  nor  Sir,  I  will  frankly  admit, 
do  I  covet  that  honour  :  and  I  will  tell  you  why  Sir,  (hear);  to 
Muggleton  I  will  readily  concede  all  those  honours  and  distinctions 
to  which  it  can  fairly  lay  claim — they  are  too  numerous  and  too 
well  known  to  require  aid  or  recapitulation  from  me.  But  Sir, 
while  we  remember  that  Muggleton  has  given  birth  to  a  Dumkins 
and  a  Podder,  let  us  never  forget  that  Dingley  Dell  can  boast  a 
Luffey  and  a  Struggles.  (Vociferous  cheering.)  Let  me  not  be 
considered  as  wishing  to  detract  from  the  merits  of  the  former  gen- 
tlemen. Sir,  I  envy  them  the  luxury  of  their  own  feelings,  on  this 
occasion.  (Cheers).  Every  gentleman  who  hears  me,  is  probably 
acquainted  with  the  reply  made  by  an  individual,  who — to  use  an 
ordinary  figure  of  speech — '  hung  out  '  in  a  tub,  to  the  emperor 
Alexander : — '  If  I  w  ere  not  Diogenes/  said  he  '  I  would  be  Alexander.' 


72  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

I  can  well  imagine  these  gentlemen  to  say,  '  If  I  were  not  Dumkins  I 
would  be  Luffey ;  if  I  were  hot  Podder  I  would  be  Struggles.'  (Enthu- 
siasm.) But  gentlemen  of  Muggleton  is  it  in  cricket  alone  that  your 
fellow-townsmen  stand  pre-eminent?  Have  you  never  heard  of  Dum- 
kins and  determination?  Have  you  never  been  taught  to  associate 
Podder  with  property?  (Great  applause).  Have  you  never,  when 
struggling  for  your  rights,  your  liberties,  and  your  privileges,  been 
reduced,  if  only  for  an  instant,  to  misgiving  and  despair  ?  And  when 
you  have  been  thus  depressed,  has  not  the  name  of  Dumkins  laid  afresh 
within  your  breast,  the  fire  which  had  just  gone  out ;  and  has  not 
a  word  from  that  man,  lighted  it  again  as  brightly  as  if  it  had  never 
expired  ?  (Great  cheering.)  Gentlemen,  I  beg  you  to  surround  with 
a  rich  halo  of  enthusiastic  cheering,  the  united  names  of  *  Dumkins 
and  Podder.'" 

Here  the  little  man  ceased,  and  here  the  company  commenced  a 
raising  of  voices,  and  thumping  of  tables,  which  lasted  with  little  inter- 
mission during  the  remainder  of  the  evening.  Other  toasts  were  drunk. 
Mr.  Luffey  and  Mr.  Struggles,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Jingle,  were, 
each  in  his  turn,  the  subject  of  unqualified  eulogium  ;  and  each  in  due 
course  returned  thanks  for  the  honour. 

Enthusiastic  as  we  are  in  the  noble  cause  to  which  we  have  devoted 
ourselves,  we  should  have  felt  a  sensation  of  pride  which  we  cannot 
express,  and  a  consciousness  of  having  done  something  to  merit 
immortality  of  which  we  are  now  deprived,  could  we  have  laid  the 
faintest  outline  of  these  addresses  before  our  ardent  readers.  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  as  usual,  took  a  great  mass  of  notes,  which  would  no  doubt 
have  afforded  most  useful  and  valuable  information,  had  not  the  burn- 
ing eloquence  of  the  words  or  the  feverish  influence  of  the  wine  made 
that  gentleman's  hand  so  extremely  unsteady,  as  to  render  his  writing 
nearly  unintelligible,  and  his  style  wholly  so.  By  dint  of  patient 
investigation,  we  have  been  enabled  to  trace  some  characters  bearing  a 
faint  resemblance  to  the  names  of  the  speakers ;  and  we  can  also  discern 
an  entry  of  a  song  (supposed  to  have  been  sung  by  Mr.  Jingle,)  in 
which  the  words  "  bowl"  "  sparkling"  "  ruby"  "  bright,"  and  "  wine" 
are  frequently  repeated  at  short  intervals.  We  fancy  too,  that  we  can 
discern  at  the  very  end  of  the  notes,  some  indistinct  reference  to 
"  broiled  bones  ;"  and  then  the  words  "  cold"  "  without"  occur  :  but  as 
any  hypothesis  we  could  found  upon  them  must  necessarily  rest  upon 
mere  conjecture,  we  are  not  disposed  to  indulge  in  any  of  the  specu- 
lations to  which  they  may  give  rise. 

We  will  therefore  return  to  Mr.  Tupman ;  merely  adding  that  within 
some  few  minutes  before  twelve  o'clock  that  night,  the  convocation  of 
worthies  of  Dingley  Dell  and  Muggleton,  were  heard  to  sing  with  great 
feeling  and  emphasis,  the  beautiful  and  pathetic  national  air,  of 


We  won 't  go  home  'till  morning, 
AVe  won't  go  home  'till  morning, 
We  won't  go  home  'till  morning, 
'Till  day-light  doth  appear. 


TUB    nCKWICK    CLUB.  73 


CHAPTER    VIU. 

STRONGLY    ILLUSTRATIVE   OF    THE    POSITION,    THAT    THE    COUASR 
OF    TRUE    LOVE    IS    NOT    A    RAILWAY. 

The  quiet  seclusion  of  Dingley  Dell,  the  presence  of  so  many  of  the 
gentler  sex,  and  the  solicitude  and  anxiety  they  evinced  in  his  behalf, 
were  all  favourable  to  the  growth  and  development  of  those  softer  feel- 
ings which  nature  had  implanted  deep  in  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Tracy  Tup- 
man,  and  which  now  appeared  destined  to  centre  in  one  lovely  object. 
The  young  ladies  were  pretty,  their  manners  winning,  their  dispositions 
unexceptionable ;  but  there  was  a  dignity  in  the  air,  a  touch-me-not- 
ishness  in  the  walk,  a  majesty  in  the  eye  of  the  spinster  aunt,  to  which, 
at  their  time  of  life  they  could  lay  no  claim,  which  distinguished  her 
from  any  female  on  whom  Mr.  Tupman  had  ever  gazed.  That  there 
was  something  kindred  in  their  nature,  something  congenial  in  their 
souls,  something  mysteriously  sympathetic  in  their  bosoms,  v/sls  evident. 
Her  name  was  the  first  that  rose  to  Mr.  Tupman's  lips  as  he  lay 
wounded  on  the  grass ;  and  her  hysteric  laughter,  was  the  first  sound 
that  fell  upon  his  ear,  when  he  was  supported  to  the  house.  But 
had  her  agitation  arisen  from  an  amiable  and  feminine  sensibility 
which  would  have  been  equally  irrepressible  in  any  case ;  or  had  it  been 
called  forth  by  a  more  ardent  and  passionate  feehng,  which  he,  of  all 
men  living,  could  alone  awaken  ?  These  were  the  doubts  which  racked 
his  brain  as  he  lay  extended  on  the  sofa :  these  were  the  doubts  which 
he  determined  should  be  at  once  and  for  ever  resolved. 

It  was  evening.  Isabella  and  Emily  had  strolled  out  with  Mr. 
Trundle  ;  the  deaf  old  lady  had  fallen  asleep  in  her  chair  ;  the  snoring 
of  the  fat  Ijoy,  penetrated  in  a  low  and  monotonous  sound  from  the 
distant  kitchen ;  the  buxom  servants  were  lounging  at  the  side-door, 
enjoying  the  pleasantness  of  the  hour,  and  the  delights  of  a  flirtation, 
on  first  principles,  with  certain  unwieldy  animals  attached  to  the  farm  ; 
and  there  sat  the  interesting  pair,  uncared  for  by  all,  caring  for  nonie, 
and  dreaming  only  of  themselves :  there  they  sat,  in  short,  like  a  paii* 
of  carefully-folded  kid-gloves — bound  up  in  each  other. 

*'  I  have  forgotten  my  flowers,"  said  the  spinster  aunt. 

*'  Water  them  now,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  in  accents  of  persuasion. 

"  You  will  take  cold  in  the  evening  air,"  urged  the  spinster  aunt, 
affectionately. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  rising;  •*  it  will  do  me  good.  Let  me 
accompany  you." 

The  lady  paused  to  adjust  the  sHng  in  which  the  lefi  arm  of  the 
youth  was  placed,  and  taking  his  right  arm  led  him  to  the  garden. 

There  was  a  bower  at  the  further  end,  with  honeysuckle,  jessamine, 
and  creeping  plants — one  of  those  sweet  retreats,  which  humane  men 
erect  for  the  accommodation  of  spiders. 


74  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OK 

The  spinster  aunt  took  up  a  large  watering-pot  which  lay  iu  one 
corner,  and  was  about  to  leave  the  arbour.  Mr.  Tupman  detained  her. 
and  drew  her  to  a  seat  beside  him 

"  Miss  Wardle  !  "  said  he. 

The  spinster  aunt  trembled,  till  some  pebbles  which  had  accidentally- 
found  their  way  into  the  large  watering-pot,  shook  like  an  infant's 
rattle. 

"  Miss  Wardle,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  "  you  are  an  angel." 

"  Mr. Tupman!"  exclaimed  Rachael, blushing  as  red  as  the  watering- 
pot  itself. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  eloquent  Pickwickian — "  I  know  it  but  too  well." 

•*  All  women  are  angels,  they  say,"  murmured  the  lady,  playfully. 

"  Then  what  can  you  be  ;  or  to  what,  without  presumption,  can  I 
compare  you?"  replied  Mr.  Tupman.  "  Where  was  the  woman  ever 
seen,  who  resembled  you?  Where  else  could  I  hope  to  find  so  rare 
a  combination  of  excellence  and  beauty  ?     Where   else  could  I  seek 

to Oh  !"     Here  Mr.  Tupman  paused,  and  pressed  the  hand  which 

clasped  the  handle  of  the  happy  watering-pot. 

The  lady  turned  aside  her  head.  "  Men  are  such  deceivers,"  she 
softly  whispered. 

"  They  are,  they  are,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Tupman ;  "  but  not  all  men. 
There  lives  at  least  one  being  who  can  never  change — one  being  who 
would  be  content  to  devote  his  whole  existence  to  your  happiness — 
who  lives  but  in  your  eyes — who  breathes  but  in  your  smiles — who 
bears  the  heavy  burden  of  life  itself  only  for  you." 

'  Could  such  an  individual  be  found,"  said  the  lady 

"But  he  can  be  found,"  said  the  ardent  Mr.  Tupman,  interposing. 
*•  He  is  found.  He  is  here  Miss  Wardle."  And  ere  the  lady  was 
uwareof  his  intention,  Mr.  Tupman  had  sunk  upon  his  knees  at  her 
feet. 

"  Mr.  Tupman,  rise,"  said  Rachael. 

'Never!"  was  the  valorous  reply.  "Oh,  Rachael!" — He  seized 
her  passive  hand,  and  the  watering-pot  fell  to  the  ground  as  he  pressed 
it  to  his  lips. — "  Oh,  Rachael !  say  you  love  me." 

"  Mr.  Tupman,"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  with  averted  head — "  I  can 
hardly  speak  the  words  ;  but  —  but  —  you  are  not  wholly  indifferent 
to  me." 

Mr.  Tupman  no  sooner  heard  this  avowal,  than  he  proceeded  to  do 
what  his  enthusiastic  emotions  prompted,  and  what,  for  aught  we  know, 
(for  we  are  but  little  acquainted  with  such  matters,)  people  so  circum- 
stanced always  do.  He  jumped  up,  and,  throwing  his  arm  round  the 
neck  of  the  spinster  aunt,  imprinted  upon  her  lips  numerous  kisses, 
which  after  a  due  show  of  struggling  and  resistance,  she  recerved  so 
passively,  that  there  is  no  telling  how  many  more  Mr.  Tupman  might 
have  bestowed,  if  the  lady  had  not  given  a  very  unaffected  start  and 
exclaimed  in  an  affrighted  tone, — 

"  Mr.  Tupman,  we  are  observed  I — we  are  discovered!" 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  round.  There  was  the  fat  boy,  perfectly  motion- 
less, with  his  large  circular  eyes  staring  into  the  arbour,  but  without 
the  lightest  expression  on  his  face  that  the  most  expert  physiogno- 


:%.: 


-*-'  • 


^^. 


B^.  *^ 


i 


V, 


e» 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  75 

liiitit  coiiUl  have  referred  to  ahtonishmert,  curio>ity,ur  any  othor  known 
|.us>iun  tliat  aj^itates  the  human  hn-ast.  Mr.  'rui>nian  j,-azc(l  on  the  fat 
hoy,  and  the  fat  hoy  stared  at  him  ;  and-the  longer  Mr.  Tupman  ob- 
served the  utter  vacancy  of  the  fat  boy's  countenance,  the  n)ore  con- 
vinced ho  became  that  he  either  did  not  know,  or  did  not  understand, 
anything'  that  had  been  going  forward.  Under  this  impression,  he  said 
with  great  firmness, — 

*•  What  do  you  want  here,  Sir?" 

**  Supper's  ready  Sir,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  Have  you  just  come  here  Sir  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Tupman,  with  a 
piercing  look. 

'*  Just,"  replied  the  fat  boy. 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  at  him  very  hard  again ;  but  there  was  not  a 
wink  in  his  eye,  or  a  curve  in  his  face. 

Mr.  Tupman  took  the  arm  of  the  spinster  aunt,  and  walked  towards 
the  house;  the  fat  boy  followed  behind. 

"  He  knows  nothing  of  what  has  happened,"  he  whispered. 

"  Nothing,"  said  the  spinster  aunt. 

There  was  a  sound  behind  them,  as  of  an  imperfectly  suppressed 
chuckle.  Mr.  Tupman  turned  sharply  round.  No ;  it  could  not  have 
been  the  fat  boy ;  there  was  not  a  gleam  of  mirth,  or  anything  but 
feeding  in  his  whole  visage. 

"  He  must  have  been  fast  asleep,"  whispered  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  it,"  replied  the  spinster  aunt. 

They  both  laughed  heartily. 

Mr.  Tupman  was  wrong.  The  fat  boy,  for  once,  had  not  been 
fast  asleep.  He  was  awake — wide  awake — to  what  had  been  going 
forward. 

The  supper  passed  off  without  any  attempt  at  a  general  conversation. 
The  old  lady  had  gone  to  bed  ;  Isabella  Wardle  devoted  herself  exclu- 
sively to  Mr.  Trundle ;  the  spinster  aunt's  attentions  were  reserved  for 
Mr.  Tupman  ;  and  Emily's  thoughts  appeared  to  be  engrossed  by  some 
distant  object — possibly  they  were  with  the  absent  Snodgrass. 

Eleven — twelve — one  o'clock  had  struck,  and  the  gentlemen  had  not 
arrived.  Consternation  sat  on  every  face.  Could  they  have  been  way- 
laid and  robbed?  Should  they  send  men  and  lanterns  in  every  direc- 
tion by  which  they  could  be  supposed  likely  to  have  travelled  home  ? 

or  should   they Hark  I  there  they  were.     What  could  have  made 

them  so  late?  A  strange  voice,  too  I  To  whom  could  it  belong? 
They  rushed  into  the  kitchen  whither  the  truants  had  repaired,  and  at 
once  obtained  rather  more  than  a  glimmering  of  the  real  state  of 
the  case. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  hat  cocked 
completely  over  his  left  eye,  was  leaning  against  the  dresser,  shaking 
his  head  from  side  to  side,  and  producing  a  constant  succession  of  the 
blandest  and  most  benevolent  smiles  without  being  moved  thereunto  by 
any  discernible  cause  or  pretence  whatsoever ;  old  Mr.  W^ardle,  with 
a  highly-inflamed  countenance,  was  grasping  the  hand  of  a  sti*ange 
Konllcinan  muttering  protestations  of  eternal  friendship;  Mr.  Winkle, 
supporting  himself  by  the  eight-day  clock,  was  feebly  invoking  do:  true- 


76  POSTHUMOUS    TAPERS    OF 

tion  upon  the  head  of  any  member  of  the  family  who  should  suggiest 
the  propriety  of  liis  retiring  for  the  night ;  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  had 
sunk  into  a  cliair,  with  an  expression  of  the  most  abject  and  hopeless 
misery  that  the  human  mind  can  imagine,  portrayed  in  every  lineament 
of  his  expressive  face. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter?"  inquired  the  three  ladies. 

"  Nothin'  the  matter,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  We — we're — all 
right. — I  say,  Wardle,  we're  all  right,  ain't  we?" 

"  I  shouhl  think  so,"  replied  the  jolly  host. — "  My  dears,  here's  my 
friend  Mr.  Jingle — Mr.  Pickwick's  friend,  Mr.  Jingle,  come  'pon — 
little  visit." 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  with  Mr.  Snodgrass  Sir?"  inquired  Emily, 
with  great  anxiety. 

"  Nothing  the  matter,  Ma'am,"  replied  the  stranger.  *'  Cricket 
dinner — glorious  party — capital  songs — old  port — claret — good — very 
good — wine.  Ma'am — wine." 

*'  It  wasn't  the  wine,"  murmured  Mr.  Snodgrass,  in  a  broken  voice. 
*'  It  was  the  salmon."  (Somehow  or  other,  it  never  is  the  wine,  in 
these  cases). 

'*  Pladn't  they  better  go  to  bed  Ma'am  ?  "  inquired  Emma.  "  Two 
of  the  boys  will  carry  the  gentlemen  up  stairs." 

"  I  won't  go  to  bed,"  said  Mr  Winkle,  firmly. 

"  No  living  boy  shall  carry  me,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  stoutly;  —  and 
he  went  on  smiling  as  before. 

*•  Hurrah  !"  gasped  Mr.  Winkle    faintly. 

"Hurrah  !"  echoed  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  off  his  hat  and  dashing  it 
on  the  floor,  and  insanely  casting  his  spectacles  into  the  middle  of  the 
kitchen. — At  this  humorous  feat  he  laughed  outright. 

"  Let's — have — 'nother — bottle,"  cried  Mr.  Winkle,  commencing  in 
a  very  loud  key,  and  ending  in  a  very  faint  one.  His  head  dropped 
upon  his  breast ;  and,  muttering  his  invincible  determination  not  to  go 
to  his  bed,  and  a  sanguinary  regret  that  he  had  not  "  done  for  old  Tup- 
man  "  in  the  morning,  he  fell  fast  asleep ;  in  which  condition  he  was 
borne  to  his  apartment  by  two  young  giants  under  the  personal  super- 
intendence of  the  fat  boy,  to  whose  protecting  care  Mr.  Snodgrass 
shortly  afterwards  confided  his  own  person.  Mr.  Pickwick  accepted  the 
proffered  arm  of  Mr.  Tupman  and  quietly  disappeared,  smiling  more 
than  ever ;  and  Mr.  Wardle  after  taking  as  affectionate  a  leave  of  the 
whole  family  as  if  he  were  ordered  for  immediate  execution,  consigned 
to  Mr.  Trundle  the  honour  of  conveying  him  up  stairs,  and  retired, 
with  a  very  futile  attempt  to  look  impressively  solemn  and  dignified. 

"  What  a  shocking  scene !"  said  the  spinster  aunt. 

"  Dis-gusting  ! "  ejaculated  both  the  young  ladies. 

*' Dreadful  —  dreadful  I"  said  Jingle,  looking  very  grave;  he  was 
about  a  bottle  and  a  half  ahead  of  any  of  his  companions.  "  Horrid 
spectacle — very." 

"  What  a  nice  man  !"  whispered  the  spinster  aunt  to  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Good-looking,  too  ! "  whispered  Emily  Wardle. 

"  Oh,  decidedly,"  observed  the  spinster  aunt. 

Mr.  Tupman  thought  of  the  widow  at  Rochester:  and  his  mind  was 


i 


THE    PICKWICK    CI.UB.  77 

frouliled.  The  succeeding-  Imlf-hour's  conversation  was  not  of  u  natuio 
to  calm  his  porturbed  spirit.  The  new  visiter  was  very  talkative,  and 
the  number  of  his  anecdotes  was  only  to  be  exceeded  by  the  extent  of 
his  politeness.  Mr.  Tupman  felt,  that  as  Jingle's  popularity  increased, 
he  (Tupman)  retired  further  into  the  shade.  His  laughter  was  forced — 
his  merriment  feigned  ;  and  when  at  last  he  laid  his  acliing  temples 
between  the  sheets,  he  thought,  with  horrid  delight  on  the  satisfaction 
it  would  afford  him,  to  have  Jingle's  head  at  that  moment  between  the 
feather  bed  and  the  mattrass. 

The  indefatigable  stranj^er  rose  betimes  next  morning,  and,  although 
his  companions  remained  in  bed  overpowered  with  the  dissipation  of 
the  previous  night,  exerted  himself  most  successfully  to  promote  the 
hilarity  of  the  breakfast-table.  So  successful  were  his  efforts,  that  even 
the  deaf  old  lady  insisted  on  having  one  or  two  of  his  best  jokes  retailed 
through  the  trumpet ;  and  even  she  condescended  to  observe  to  the 
spinster  aunt,  that  '*  he"  (meanini,'-  Jingle)  "  was  an  impudent  young- 
fellow" — a  sentiment  in  which  all  her  relations  then  and  there  present 
thoroughly  coincided. 

It  was  the  old  lady's  habit  on  the  fine  summer  mornings  to  repair 
to  the  arbour  in  which  Mr.  Tupman  had  already  signalised  himself, 
in  form  and  manner  following : — first,  the  fat  boy  fetched  from  a  peg- 
behind  the  old  lady's  bed-room  door,  a  close  black  satin  bonnet,  a  warm 
cotton  shawl,  and  a  thick  stick  with  a  capacious  handle  ;  and  the  old 
lady  having  put  on  the  bonnet  and  shawl  at  her  leisure,  would  lean  one 
hand  on  the  stick  and  the  other  on  the  fat  boy's  shoulder,  and  walk 
leisurely  to  the  arbour,  where  the  fat  boy  would  leave  her  to  enjoy  the 
fresh  air  for  the  space  of  half  an  hour  ;  at  the  expiration  of  which  time 
he  would  return  and  reconduct  her  back  to  the  house. 

The  old  lady  was  very  precise  and  very  particular ;  and  as  this  cere- 
mony had  been  observed  for  three  successive  summers  without  the 
slightest  deviation  from  the  accustomed  form,  she  was  not  a  little  sur- 
prised on  this  particular  morning,  to  see  the  fat  boy,  instead  of  leaving- 
the  arbour,  walk  a  few  paces  out  of  it,  look  carefully  round  him  in 
every  direction,  and  return  towards  her  with  great  stealth  and  an  air 
of  the  most  profound  mystery. 

The  old  lady  was  timorous — most  old  ladies  are — and  her  first  impres- 
sion was  that  the  bloated  lad  was  about  to  do  her  some  grievous  bodily 
harm  with  the  view  of  possessing  himself  of  her  loose  coin.  She  would 
hare  cried  for  assistance,  but  age  and  infirmity  had  long  ago  deprived 
her  of  the  power  of  screaming ;  she,  therefore,  watched  his  motions  with 
feelings  of  intense  terror,  which  were  in  no  degree  diminished  by  his 
coming  close  up  to  her,  and  shouting  in  her  ear  in  an  agitated,  and  as 
it  seemed  to  her,  a  threatening  tone, — 

"Missus!" 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Jingle  was  walking  in  the  garden  close 
to  the  arbour  at  this  moment.  He  too  heard  the  shout  of  '•  Missus," 
and  stopped  to  hear  more.  There  were  three  reasons  for  his  doing  so. 
In  the  first  place,  he  was  idle  and  curious ;  secondly,  he  was  by  no 
means  scrupulous ;  thirdly,  and  lastly,  he  was  concealed  from  view  by 
some  flowering  shrubs.     So  there  he  stood,  and  there  he  listened. 


78  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Missus,"  shouted  the  fat  boy. 

"Well  Joe/'  said  the  trembling-  old  lady.  "  I'm  sure  I  have  been 
a  good  mistress  to  you  Joe.  You  have  invariably  been  treated  very 
kindly.  You  have  never  had  too  much  to  do ;  and  you  have  alvi^ays 
had  enough  to  eat." 

This  last  was  an  appeal  to  the  fat  boy's  most  sensitive  feelings.  He 
seemed  touched  as  he  replied,  emphatically, — 

*'  I  knows  I  has." 

*'  Then  w^hat  can  you  want  to  do  now?"  said  the  old  lady,  gaining 
courage. 

"  I  wants  to  make  your  flesh  creep,"  replied  the  boy. 

This  sounded  hke  a  very  blood-thirsty  mode  of  showing  one's  grati- 
tude ;  and  as  the  old  lady  did  not  precisely  understand  the  process  by 
which  such  a  result  was  to  be  attained,  all  her  former  horrors  returned. 

"  What  do  you  think  I  see  in  this  very  arbour  last  night?"  inquired 
the  boy. 

"  Bless  us  I  What  ?  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  alarmed  at  the  solemn 
manner  of  the  corpulent  youth. 

"  The  strange  gentleman — him  as  had  his  arm  hurt — a  kissin'  and 

h'  »         » 
uggm 

"  Who,  Joe — who  ?     None  of  the  servants,  I  hope." 

*'  Worser  than  that,"  roared  the  fat  boy,  in  the  old  lady's  ear. 

"  Not  one  of  my  grand-da'aters  ?  " 

"  Worser  than  that." 

"Worse  than  that  Joel"  said  the  old  lady,  who  had  thought  this 
the  extreme  limit  of  human  atrocity.  "  Who  was  it,  Joe  ?  I  insist 
upon  knowing." 

The  fat  boy  looked  cautiously  round,  and  having  concluded  his  survey, 
shouted  in  the  old  lady's  ear, — 

"  Miss  Rachael." 

"  What ! "  said  the  old  lady,  in  a  shrill  tone.     "  Speak  louder." 

"  Miss  Rachael,"  roared  the  fat  boy. 

"Myda'ater!" 

The  train  of  nods  which  the  fat  boy  gave  by  way  of  assent,  communi- 
cated a  hlanc-mange  like  motion  to  his  fat  cheeks. 

"  And  she  suffered  him !"  exclaimed  the  old  lady. 

A  grin  stole  over  the  fat  boy's  features  as  he  said, — 

"  I  see  her  a  kissin'  of  him  agin." 

If  Mr.  Jingle,  from  his  place  of  concealment,  could  have  beheld  the 
expression  which  the  old  lady's  face  assumed  at  this  communication, 
the  probability  is  that  a  sudden  burst  of  laughter  would  have  betrayed 
his  close  vicinity  to  the  summer-house.  He  listened  attentively. 
Fragments  of  angry  sentences  such  as,  "  Without  my  permission  ! " — 
"At  her  time  of  life"— "  Miserable  old 'ooraan  like  me"— "Might 
liave  waited  till  I  was  dead,"  and  so  forth,  reached  his  ears;  and  then 
he  heard  the  heels  of  the  fat  boy's  boots  crunching  the  gravel,  as  he 
retired  and  left  the  old  lady  alone. 

It  was  a  remarkable  coincidence  perhaps,  but  it  was  nevertheless  a 
fact,  that  Mr.  Jingle  within  five  minutes  after  his  arrival  at  Manor 
Farm  on  the  preceding  night,  had  inwardly  resolved  to  lay  siege  to 


TIIE    nCKNYrCK    CI.UB.  *^*-' 

iLc  heart  of  the  spinster  aunt,  without  delay,  lie  had  obserration 
enough  to  see,  that  his  oft-hand  manner  was  by  no  means  disagreeable 
to  the  fair  object  of  his  attack  ;  and  he  had  more  than  a  strong  sus- 
picion that  she  possessed  that  most  desirable  of  all  requisites,  a  small 
independence.  The  imperative  necessity  of  ousting  his  rival  by  some 
means  or  other,  flashed  quickly  upon  him,  and  he  immediately  resolved 
to  adopt  certain  proceedings  tending  to  that  end  and  object,  without  a 
moment's  delay.  Fielding  tells  us  that  man  is  fire,  and  woman  tow,  and 
the  Prince  of  Darkness  sets  a  light  to  'em.  Mr.  Jingle  knew  that 
young  men,  to  spinster  aunts,  are  as  lighted  gas  to  gunpowder,  and  he 
determined  to  essay  the  eftect  of  an  explosion  without  loss  of  time. 

Full  of  reflections  upon  this  important  decision,  he  crept  from  his 
place  of  concealment,  and,  under  cover  of  the  shrubs  before  mentioned, 
approached  the  house.  Fortune  seemed  determined  to  favour  hia 
design.  Mr.  Tupraan  and  the  rest  of  the  gentlemen  left  the  garden  by 
the  side  gate  just  as  he  obtained  a  view  of  it ;  and  the  young  ladies 
he  knew,  had  walked  out  alone,  soon  after  breakfast.  The  coast  was 
clear. 

The  breakfast-parlour  door  was  partially  open.  He  peeped  in.  The 
spinster  aunt  was  knitting.  He  coughed  ;  she  looked  up  and  smiled. 
Hesitation  formed  no  part  of  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle's  character.  He  laid 
his  finger  on  his  lips  mysteriously,  walked  in,  and  closed  the  door. 

"Miss  Wardle,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  with  affected  earnestness,  "for- 
give intrusion — short  acquaintance — no  time  for  ceremony — all  dis- 
covered." 

"  Sir  I "  said  the  spinster  aunt,  rather  astonished  by  the  unexpected 
apparition  and  somewhat  doubtful  of  Mr.  Jingle's  sanity. 

"  Hush  ! "  said  Mr.  Jingle,  in  a  stago  whisper  ; — "  large  boy — 
dumpling  face — round  eyes — rascal !  "  Here  he  shook  his  head  expres- 
sively, and  the  spinster  aunt  trembled  with  agitation. 

"I  presume  you  allude  to  Joseph  Sir?"  said  the  lady,  making  an 
effort  to  appear  composed. 

"  Yes,  Ma'am — damn  that  Joe  I — treacherous  dog,  Joe — told  the  old 
lady — old  lady  furious — wild— raving — arbour — Tupman — kissing  and 
hugging — all  that  sort  of  thing — eh,  Ma'am — eh?" 

"  Mr.  Jingle,"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  "  if  you  come  here  Sir,  to 
insult  me " 

"  Not  at  all — by  no  means,"  replied  the  unabashed  Mr.  Jingle ; — 
"  overheard  the  tale — came  to  warn  you  of  your  danger — tender  my 
services — prevent  the  hubbub.  Never  mind — think  it  an  insult — 
leave  the  room"  —  and  he  turned,  as  if  to  carry  the  threat  into 
execution. 

"  What  shall  I  do  !  "  said  the  poor  spinster,  bursting  into  tears.  "  My 
brother  will  be  furious  !  " 

"  Of  course  he  will,"  said  Mr.  Jingle  pausing — "outrageous." 

"  Oh  Mr.  Jingle,  what  can  I  say  I "  exclaimed  the  spinster  aunt,  in 
another  flood  of  despair. 

"  Say  he  dreamt  it,"  replied  Mr.  Jingle,  coolly. 

A  ray  of  comfort  darted  across  the  mind  of  the  spinster  aunt  at  this 
sugfi^eslion.     iNlr.  Jingle  perceived  it,  and  followed  up  his  advantage. 


so  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"Pooh,  pooh  I  —  nothing-  more  easy  —  blackg-uard  boy  —  lovely 
woman — fat  boy  horsewhipped — you  believed — end  of  the  matter — all 
comfortable." 

Whether  the  probability  o'f  escaping-  from  the  consequences  of  this 
ill-timed  discovery  was  delightful  to  the  spinster's  feelings,  or  whether 
the  hearing  herself  described  as  a  "  lovely  woman"  softened  the  asperity 
of  her  grief,  we  know  not.  She  blushed  slightly,  and  cast  a  grateful 
look  on  Mr.  Jingle. 

That  insinuating-  gentleman  sighed  deeply,  fixed  his  eyes  on  the 
spinster  aunt's  face  for  a  couple  of  minutes,  started  melo-dramatically, 
and  suddenly  withdrew  them. 

"  You  seem  unhappy  Mr.  Jingle,"  said  the  lady,  in  a  plaintive 
voice.  "  May  I  show  my  gratitude  for  your  kind  interference,  by 
inquiring  into  the  cause,  with  a  view,  if  possible,  to  its  removal?" 

"  Ha  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Jingle,  with  another  start  —  "  removal  I 
remove  my  unhappiness,  and  your  love  bestowed  upon  a  man  who  i? 
insensible  to  the  blessing* — who  even  now  contemplates  a  design  upon 
the  affections  of  the  niece  of  the  creature  who — but  no ;  he  is  my 
friend  ;  I  will  not  expose  his  vices.  Miss  Wardle — farewell ! "  At 
the  conclusion  of  this  address,  the  most  consecutive  he  was  ever 
known  to  utter,  Mr.  Jingle  applied  to  his  eyes  the  remnant  of  a  hand- 
kerchief before  noticed,  and  turned  towards  the  door. 

"  Stay,  Mr.  Jingle  I"  said  the  spinster  aunt  emphatically.  "  You  havo 
made  an  allusion  to  Mr.  Tupman — explain  it." 

"  Never ! "  exclaimed  Jingle,  with  a  professional  (i.  e.  theatrical)  air. 
*'  Never  I"  and,  by  way  of  showing-  that  he  had  no  desire  to  be  ques- 
tioned further,  he  drew  a  chair  close  to  that  of  the  spinster  aunt  and 
sat  down. 

"  Mr.  Jingle,"  said  the  aunt,  "  I  entreat — I  implore  you,  if  there  is 
any  dreadful  mystery  connected  with  Mr.  Tupman,  reveal  it." 

"  Can  I,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  aunt's  face — "  Can 
I  see — lovely  creature — sacrificed  at  the  shrine — heartless  avarice  ! " 
He  appeared  to  be  struggling-  with  various  conflicting-  emotions  for  a 
few  seconds,  and  then  said  in  a  low  deep  voice  — "  Tupman  only 
wants  your  money." 

"  The  wretch  !"  exclaimed  the  spinster,  with  energetic  indignation. 
(?tTr.  Jingle's  doubts  were  resolved.     She  had  money). 

"  More  than  that,"  said  Jingle — "  loves  another." 

"  Another  I"  ejaculated  the  spinster.     "  Who?" 

"  Short  girl — -'black  eyes — niece  Emily." 

There  was  a  pause. 

Now  if  there  were  one  individual  in  the  whole  world,  of  whom  the 
spinster  aunt  entertained  a  mortal  and  deeply-rooted  jealousy,  it  was 
this  identical  niece.  The  colour  rushed  over  her  face  and  neck,  and 
she  tossed  her  head  in  silence  with  an  air  of  ineffable  contempt.  At 
last,  biting  her  thin  lips,  and  bridling  up,  she  said, — 

"It  can't  be.     I  wont  believe  it." 

"  Watch  'em  "  said  Jingle. 

"  I  will"  said  the  aunt. 

"  Watch  his  looks  " 


T.'.E    PICKWICK    CI.UB.  HI 

•*  I  will." 

*'  His  \vhis|)€rs." 

»'  I  will." 

"  He'll  sit  next  her  at  table." 

"  Let  him." 

••He'll  flaftor  her." 

««  Let  him." 

•*  He'll  pay  her  every  possible  attention." 

"  Let  him." 

**  And  he'll  cut  you." 

*•  Cut  me  !  "  screamed  the  spinster  aunt,  "  He  cut  fne  ;-^nnU  he  I " 
and  she  trembled  with  rage  and  disappointment. 

"  You  will  convince  yourself?"  said  Jingle. 

•'  1  will. 

••  You'll  show  your  spirit?" 

••  1  will." 

♦'  You'll  not  have  him  afterwards?" 

*•  Never." 

*'  You'll  ta'ne  somebody  else?" 

*•  Yes." 

•'You  shall." 

Mr.  Jingle  fell  on  his  knees,  remained  thereupon  for  five  minute? 
thereafter:  and  rose  the  accepted  lover  of  the  spinster  aunt — condition- 
ally upon  Tupman's  perjury  being  made  clear  and  manifest. 

The  burden  of  proof  lay  with  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle  ;  and  he  produced  his 
evidence  that  very  day  at  dinner.  The  spinster  aunt  could  hardly 
believe  her  eyes.  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  was  established  at  Emily's  side, 
ogling,  whispering,  and  smiling,  in  opposition  to  Mr.  Snodgrass.  Not 
a  word,  not  a  look,  not  a  glance,  did  he  bestow  upon  his  heart's  pride 
of  the  evening  before. 

"  Damn  that  boy  I"  thought  old  Mr.  Wardle  to  himself. —  He  had 
heard  the  story  from  his  mother.  "  Damn  that  boy  !  He  must  have 
been  asleep.     It's  all  imagination." 

"  Traitor ! "  thought  the  spinster  aunt  to  herself.  "  Dear  Mr.  Jingle 
was  not  deceiving  me.     Oh  !  how  I  hate  the  wretch  !" 

The  followiuL:  conversation  may  serve  to  explain  to  our  readers,  this 
apparently  unaccountable  alteration  of  deportment,  on  the  part  of  Mr; 
Tracy  Tupman. 

The  time  was  evening ;  the  scene  the  garden.  There  were  two 
figures  walking  in  a  side  path  ;  one  was  rather  short  and  stout ;  th* 
other  rather  tall  and  slim.  They  were  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Jingle. 
The  stout  figure  commenced  the  dialogue. 

**  How  did  I  do  it  ?"  he  inquired. 

•*  Splendid — capital — couldn't  act  better  myself — you  must  repeat 
the  part  to-morrow — every  evening,  till  further  notice." 

•'  Does  Rachael  still  wish  it?" 

"  Of  course — she  don't  like  it — but  must  be  done — avert  suspicion — < 
afraid  of  her  brother — says  there's  no  help  for  it — only  few  days  mnre 
— when  old  folks  blinded — crown  your  happiness." 


82  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Any  message?" 

"  Love — best  love — kindest  regards — unalterable  affection.  Can  I 
say  anything-  for  you?" 

"  My  dear  fellow  "  replied  the  unsuspicious  Mr.  Tupman,  fervently 
grasping  his  "  friend's  "  hand — "  carry  my  best  love — say  how  hard  I 
find  it  to  dissemble — say  anything  that's  kind:  but  add  how  sensible 
I  am  of  the  necessity  of  the  suggestion  she  made  to  me,  through 
you,  this  morning.  Say  I  applaud  her  wisdom  and  admire  her 
discretion." 

"  I  will.     Anything  more?" 

"  Nothing ;  only  add  how  ardently  I  long  for  the  time  when  I  may 
call  her  mine,  and  all  dissimulation  may  be  unnecessary." 

"  Certainly,  certainly.     Anything  more  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  friend!"  said  poor  Mr.  Tupman,  again  grasping  the  hand 
of  his  companion,  "  receive  my  warmest  thanks  for  your  disinterested 
kindness ;  and  forgive  me  if  I  have  ever,  even  in  thought,  done  you 
the  injustice  of  supposing  that  you  could  stand  in  my  way.  My  dear 
friend  can  I  ever  repay  you  ?  " 

"  Don't  talk  of  it,"  replied  Mr.  Jingle.  He  stopped  short,  as  if 
suddenly  recollecting  something,  and  said, — "  By-the-by,  you  can't 
spare  ten  pounds,  can  you? — very  particular  purpose — pay  you  in 
three  davs." 

"  I  dare  say  I  can,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart. 
"  Three  days,  you  say  ?  " 

"  Only  three  days — all  over  then — no  more  difficulties." 

Mr.  Tupman  counted  the  money  into  his  companion's  hand,  and  he 
dropped  it  piece  by  piece  into  his  pocket,  as  they  walked  towards  the 
house. 

"  Be  careful,"  said  Mr.  Jingle — "  not  a  look." 

*•  Not  a  wink,"  said  Mr.  Tupraan. 

"  Not  a  syllable." 

"  Not  a  whisper." 

"  All  your  attentions  to  the  niece — rather  rude,  than  otherwise,  to 
the  aunt — only  way  of  deceiving  the  old  ones." 

"  I'll  take  care,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  aloud. 

"  And  r\\  take  care,  "  said  Mr.  Jingle  internally ;  and  they  entered 
the  house. 

The  scene  of  that  afternoon  was  repeated  that  evening,  and  on  the 
three  afternoons  and  evenings  next  ensuing.  On  the  fourth,  the  host 
was  in  high  spirits,  for  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  there  was  no 
ground  for  the  charge  against  Mr.  Tupman.  So  was  Mr.  Tupman,  for 
Mr.  Jingle  had  told  him  that  his  affair  would  soon  be  brought  to  a 
crisis.  So  was  Mr.  Pickwick,  for  he  was  seldom  otherwise.  So  was 
not  Mr.  Snodgrass,  for  he  had  grown  jealous  of  Mr.  Tupman.  So  was 
the  old  lady,  for  she  had  been  winning  at  whist.  So  were  Mr.  Jingle 
and  Miss  Wardle,  for  reasons  of  sufficient  importance  in  this  eventful 
history,  to  be  narrated  in  another  chapter. 


TIIK    IMCKWICK    emu.  N'5 


CHAPTER   IX. 


A    DISCOVERY    AND    A    CHASE. 


The  supper  was  ready  laid,  the  chairs  were  drawn  round  the  table, 
bottles,  jugs  and  glasses  were  arranged  upon  the  sideboard,  and  every 
thing  betokened  the  approach  of  the  most  convivial  period  in  the  whole 
four  and  twenty  hours. 

"  Where's  Rachael  ?  "  said  Mr.  Wardle. 

"  Aye,  and  Jingle  ?  "  added  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  the  host,  "  I  wonder  I  haven't  missed  him  before 
Why,  I  don't  think  I've  heard  his  voice  for  two  hours  at  least.     Emilj  , 
my  dear,  ring  the  bell." 

The  bell  was  ri^ng,  and  the  fat  boy  appeared. 

"  Where's  Miss  Rachael  ?  "     He  couldn't  say. 

"  Where's  Mr.  Jingle,  then  ?  "     He  didn't  know. 

Every  body  looked  surprised.  It  was  late — past  eleven  o'clock.  Mr. 
Tupman  laughed  in  his  sleeve.  They  were  loitering  somewhere,  talking 
about  him.     Ha,  ha!  capital  notion  that — funny. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Wardle,  after  a  short  pause,  *'  they'll  turn  uu 
presently,  I  dare  say.     I  never  wait  supper  for  anybody." 

"  Excellent  rule,  that,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  admirable." 

"  Pray,  sit  down,"  said  the  host. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  :  and  down  they  sat. 

There  was  a  gigantic  round  of  cold  beef  on  the  table,  and  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  supplied  with  a  plentiful  portion  of  it.  He  had  raised  his  fork 
to  his  lips,  and  was  on  the  very  point  of  opening  his  mouth  for  the 
reception  of  a  piece  of  beef,  when  the  hum  of  many  voices  suddenly 
arose  in  the  kitchen.  He  paused,  and  laid  down  his  fork.  Mr.  Wardle 
paused  too,  and  insensibly  released  his  hold  of  the  carving-knife,  which 
remained  inserted  in  the  beef.  He  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick.  Mr. 
Pickwick  looked  at  him. 

Heavy  footsteps  were  heard  in  the  passage ;  the  parlour  door  was 
>uddenly  burst  open  ;  and  the  man  who  had  cleaned  Mr.  P.ckwick's 
boots  on  his  first  arrival,  rushed  into  the  room,  followed  by  the  fat  boy, 
and  all  the  domestics. 

"  What  the  devil's  the  meaning  of  this?"  exclaimed  the  host. 

*'  The  kitchen  chimney  ain't  a- fire,  is  it,  Emma?"  inquired  the  old 
lady. 

"  Lor  grandma  !  No,"  screamed  both  the  young  ladies. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  roared  the  master  of  the  house. 

Tlie  man  gasped  for  breath,  and  faintly  ejaculated — 

*' They  ha'  gone,  Mas'r! — gone  right  clean  off,  Sir!"  (At  this 
juncture,  Mr.  Tupman  was  observed  to  lay  down  his  knife  and  fork, 
hnd  to  turn  very  pale.) 

K 


84  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Who's  gone?"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  fiercely. 

'"'  Mus'r  Jingle  and  Miss  Rachael,  in  a  po*-chay,  from  Blue  Lion, 
Muggleton.  1  was  there  ;  but  I  couldn't  stop  'em ;  so  I  run  oif  to 
teU'ee." 

"  1  paid  his  expenses  I  "  said  Mr.  Tupman,  jumping  up  frantically, 
"lie's  got  ten  pounds  of  mine! — stop  him  ! — he's  swindled  me  I — I 
won't  bear  it ! — 1  '11  have  justice,  Pickwick ! — I  won't  stand  it  I  "  and 
with  sundry  incoherent  exclamations  of  the  like  nature,  the  unhappy 
g-entleman  .-pun  round  and  round  the  apartment,  in  a  transport  of 
frenzy. 

"  Lord  preserve  us  !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  eyeing-  the  extraor- 
dinary gestures  of  his  friend  with  terrified  surprise.  "  He's  gone  mad  I 
What  shall  we  do !  "  . 

"  Do  !  "  said  the  stout  old  host,  who  regarded  only  the  last  words  of 

the    sentence.     "  Put    the  horse   in    the   gig !     I'll   get  a  chaise  at 

the    Lion,    and    follow   'em  instantly.     "  Where  " — he  exclaimed,  as 

the  man  ran  out  to  execute  the  commission — "  Where's  that  villain, 

oe  t 

"  Here  I  am ;  but  I  han't  a  willin,"  replied  a  voice.  It  was  the 
fat  boy's. 

"  Let  me  get  at  him,  Pickwick  !  "  cried  Wardle,  as  he  rushed  at  the 
ill-starred  youth.  "  He  was  bribed  by  that  scoundrel.  Jingle,  to  put 
me  on  a  wrong  scent,  by  telling  a  cock-and-a-bull  story  of  my  sister 
and  your  friend  Tupman  !  "  (Here  Mr.  Tupman  sunk  into  a  chair.) 
**  Let  me  get  at  him  ! " 

"  Don't  let  him ! "  screamed  all  the  women,  above  whose  exclama- 
tions, the  blubbering  of  the  fat  boy,  was  distinctly  audible. 

"  I  won't  be  held!"  cried  the  old  man.  "Mr.  Winkle,  take  your 
hands  off  I     Mr.  Pickwick,  let  me  go.  Sir!" 

It  was  a  beautiful  sight,  in  that  moment  of  turmoil  and  confusion,  to 
l)eh61d  the  placid  and  philosophical  expression  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  face, 
albeit  somewhat  flushed  with  exertion,  as  he  stood  with  his  arms 
firmly  clasped  round  the  extensive  waist  of  their  corpulent  host,  thus 
restraining  the  impetuosity  of  his  passion,  while  the  fat  boy  was 
scratched,  and  pulled,  and  pushed  from  the  room  by  all  the  females 
congregated  therein.  He  had  no  sooner  released  his  hold,  than  the 
man  entered  to  announce  that  the  gig  was  ready. 

"Don't  let  him  go  alone!"  screamed  the  females.  "He'll  kill 
somebody  !" 

"  I'll  go  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  You're  a  good  fellow,  Pickwick,"  said  the  host,  grasping  his  hand. 
*'  Emma,  give  Mr,  Pickwick  a  shawl  to  tie  round  his  neck — make  haste. 
Look  after  your  grandmother,  girls  ;  she's  fainted  away.  Now  then, 
are  you  ready  ?  " 

Mr.  Pickwick's  mouth  and  chin,  having  been  hastily  enveloped  in  a 
large  shawl :  his  hat  having  been  put  on  his  head,  and  his  great  coat 
thrown  over  his  arm,  he  replied  in  the  aifirmative. 

They  jumped  into  the  gig.  "  Give  her,  her  head,  Tom,"  cried  the 
nost ;  and  away  they  went,  down  the  narrov»-  lanes :  jolting  in  and  out 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  8.S 

of  the  cart-ruts,  and  bumping  up  against  the  hedges  on  either  uide,  as 
if  they  would  go  to  pieces  every  moment. 

"  How  much  are  they  a-head?"  shouted  Wardle,  as  they  drove  up 
to  the  door  of  the  Blue  Lion,  round  which  a  little  crowd  had  col- 
lected, late  as  it  was. 

"  Not  above  three-quarters  of  an  hour,"  was  everybody's  reply. 

"  Chaise  and  four  directly  !— out  with  'em  I  Put  up  the  gig  after- 
wards." 

"Now,  boys  I"  cried  the  landlord — "chaise  and  four  out — make 
haste — look  alive  there  !" 

Away  ran  the  hostlers,  and  the  boys.  The  lanterns  glimmered,  as 
tie  men  ran  to  and  fro ;  the  horses'  hoofs  clattered  on  the  uneven 
paving  of  the  yard  ;  the  chaise  rumbled  as  it  was  drawn  out  of  the 
coach-house ;  and  all  was  noise  and  bustle. 

•'  Now  then  I — is  that  chaise  coming  out  to-night?"  cried  Wardle. 

"  Coming  down  the  yard  now.  Sir,"  replied  the  hostler. 

Out  came  the  chaise — in  went  the  horses — on  sprung  the  boys — in 
got  the  travellers. 

"Mind — the  seven-mile  stage  in  less  than  half  an  hour  I"  shouted 
Wardle. 

"  Off  with  you  I ' 

The  boys  applied  whip  and  spur,  the  waiters  shouted,  the  hostlers 
cheered,  and  away  they  went,  fast  and  furiously 

"  Pretty  situation,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  he  had  had  a 
moment's  time  for  reflection.  "  Pretty  situation  for  the  General 
Chairman  of  the  Pickwick  Club.  Damp  chaise — strange  horses — fifteen 
miles  an  hour — and  twelve  o'clock  at  night  I  " 

For  the  first  three  or  four  miles,  not  a  word  was  spoken  by  either  of 
the  gentlemen,  each  being  too  much  immersed  in  his  own  reflections, 
to  address  any  observations  to  his  companion.  When  they  had  gone 
over  that  much  ground,  however,  and  the  horses  getting  thoroughly 
warmed  began  to  do  their  work  in  really  good  style,  Mr.  Pickwick 
became  too  much  exhilarated  with  the  rapidity  of  the  motion,  to  remain 
any  longer  perfectly  mute. 

"  We're  sure  to  catch  them,  I  think,"  said  he. 

"  Hope  so,"  replied  his  companion. 

"  Fine  night,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  up  at  the  moon,  whicu 
was  shining  brightly. 

'♦  So  much  the  worse,"  retunned  Wardle ;  *'  for  they'll  have  had  all 
the  advantage  of  the  moonlight  to  get  the  start  of  us,  and  we  shall  lose 
it.     It  will  have  gone  down  in  another  hour." 

"  It  will  be  rather  unpleasant  going  at  this  rate  in  the  dark,  won't 
it  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick, 

"  I  dare  say  it  will,"  replied  his  friend  drily. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  temporary  excitement  began  to  sober  down  a  little, 
as  he  reflected  upon  the  inconveniences  and  dangers  of  the  expedition 
in  which  he  had  so  thoughtlessly  embarked.  He  was  roused  by  a  loud 
shouting  of  the  post-boy  on  the  leader. 

"  Yj — yo — yo — yo — voe,"  went  the  first  bav 

k2 


80 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


"  Yo — yo~yo — yoel  "  wont  the  secoiul. 

*'  Yo— yo-  yo— yoel'  chimed  in  old  Wardle  himself,  most  lustily, 
with  his  head  and  half  his  body  out  of  the  coach  window, 

"  Yo— yo— yo— yoe  I  "  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking-  up  the  burden' 
of  the  cry,  though  he  had  not  the  slightest  notion  of  its  meaning  or 
object.  And  amidst  the  yo— yoing-  of  the  whole  four,  the  chaise 
stopped. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

«  There's  agate  here,"  replied  old  Wardle,  "We  shall  hear  some- 
thing of  the  fugitives." 

After  a  lapse  of  five  minutes,  consumed  in  incessant  knocking  and 
shouting,  an  old  man  in  his  shirt  and  trousers  emerged  from  the  turn- 
pike-house, and  opened  the  gate. 

"  How  long  is  it  since  a  post-chaise  went  through  here  ?  "  inquired 
Mr.  Wardle. 

"  How  long  ?  " 
.  "Ah!  " 

"  Why,  I  don't  rightly  know.  It  worn't  a  long  time  ago,  nor  i; 
worn't  a  short  time  ago— just  between  the  two,  perhaps." 

"  Has  any  chaise  been  by  at  all  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  there's  been  a  chay  by." 

"  How  long  ago,  my  friend,'*  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  an  hour  ?  '* 

"  Ah,  I  dare  say  it  might  be,"  replied  the  man. 

"  Or  two  hours?"  inquired  the  post-boy  on  the  wheeler. 

"  Well,  I  should  n't  wonder  if  it  was,"  returned  the  old  man  doubt- 
fully. 

"  Drive  on,  boys,"  cried  the  testy  old  gentleman  :  "  don't  waste  any 
more  time  with  that  old  idiot !  " 

"  Idiot  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  man  with  a  grin,  as  he  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  road  with  the  gate  half  closed,  watching  the  chaise  which 
rapidly  diminished  in  the  increasing  distance.  "  No — not  much  o'  that 
either  ;  you've  lost  ten  minutes  here,  and  gone  away  as  wise  as  you  came 
arter  all.  If  every  man  on  the  line  as  has  a  guinea  give  him  earns  it 
half  as  well,  you  won't  catch  t'other  chay  this  side  Mich'lmas,  old  short 
and  fat."  And  with  another  prolonged  gJ'in,  the  old  man  closed  the 
gate,  re-entered  his  house,  and  bolted  the  door  after  him. 

Meanwhile  thie  chaise  proceeded,  without  any  slackening  of  pace, 
towards  the  conclusion  of  the  stage.  The  moon,  as  Wardle  had  fore- 
told, was  rapidly  on  the  wane  ;  large  tiers  of  dark  heavy  clouds  which 
had  been  gradually  overspreading  the  sky  for  some  time  past,  now 
formed  one  black  mass  over  head  ;  and  large  drops  of  rain  which  pat-, 
tered  every  now  and  then  against  the  windows  of  the  chaise,  seemed  to 
warn  the  travellers  of  the  rapid  approach  of  a -stormy  night.  The  wind, 
too,  which  was  directly  against  them,  swept  in  furious  gusts  down  the 
narrow  road,  and  howled  dismally  through  the  trees  which  skirted  the 
pathway.  Mr.  Pickwick  drew  his  coat  closer  about  him,  coiled  himself 
inore  snugly  up  into  the  corner  of  the  chaise,  and  fell  into  a  sound 
sleep,  from  which  he  was  only  awakened  by  the  stopping  of  the  vehicle, 
the  sound  of  the  hostler's  bell,  and  a  loud  crv  of  '•  Horses  on  directlv  !  " 


THE    FICKWICK    CLUB.  87 

But  here  another  delay  occurred.  The  boys  were  sleeping  with  such 
mysterious  soundness,  that  it  took  rive  minutes  a-picce-to  wake  them. 
The  hostler  had  somehow  or  other  mislaid  the  key  of  the  stable,  and 
even  when  that  was  found,  two  sleepy  helpers  put  the  wrong  harness 
on  the  wrong  horses,  and  the  whole  process  of  harnessing  had  to  be 
gone  through  afresh.  Had  Mr.  Pickwick  been  alone,  these  multiplied 
obstacles  would  hare  completely  put  an  end  to  the  pursuit  at  once,  but 
old  Wardle  was  not  to  be  so  easily  daunted ;  and  he  laid  about  him  with 
such  hearty  good-will,  cuffing  this  man,  and  pushing  that ;  strapping  a 
buckle  here,  and  taking  in  a  link  there,  that  the  chaise  was  ready  in  a 
much  shorter  time  than  could  reasonably  have  been  expected,  under  so 
many  difficulties. 

Tliey  resumed  their  journey  ;  and  certainly  the  prospect  before  them 
was  by  no  means  encouraging.  The  stage  was  fifteen  miles  long,  the 
night  was  dark,  the  wind  high,  and  the  rain  pouring  in  torrents.  It  wa» 
impossible  to  make  any  great  way  against  such  obstacles  united :  it 
was  hard  upon  one  o'clock  already  ;  and  nearly  two  hours  were  consume<l 
in  getting  to  the  end  of  the  stage.  Here,  however,  an  object  presented 
itself,  which  rc-kindled  their  hopes,  and  re-animated  their  drooping 
spirits. 

"  When  did  this  chaise  come  in  ?  "  cried  old  Wardle,  leaping  out  of 
his  own  vehicle,  and  pointing  to  one  covered  with  wet  mud,  which  was 
standing  in  the  yard. 

*'  Not  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  Sir;"  replied  the  hostler,  to  whom 
the  question  was  addressed. 

"  Lady  and  gentleman?"  inquired  Wardle,  almost  breathless  with 
impatience. 

"  Yes,  Sir." 

"  Tall  gentleman — dress  coat — long  legs — thin  body  ?  " 

♦♦  Yes,  Sir." 

"  Elderly  lady — thin  face — rather  skinny— eh  ?  " 

»♦  Yes,  Srr." 

**  By  Heavens,  it's  tliem,  Pickwick,"  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Would  have  been  here  before,"  said  the  hostler,  "  but  they  broke 
a  trace." 

**  'Tis  them,"  said  Wardle,  "  it  is,  by  Jove  I  Chaise  and  four  in- 
stantly. We  shall  catch  them  yet,  before  they  reach  the  next  stage. 
A  guinea  a-piece,  boys — be  alive  there — bustle  about — there's  good 
fellows." 

And  with  such  admonitions  as  these,  the  old  gentleman  ran  up  and 
down  the  yard,  and  bustled  to  and  fro,  in  a  state  of  excitement  which 
communicated  itself  to  Mr.  Pickwick  also ;  and  under  the  influence  of 
which,  that  gentleman  got  himself  into  complicated  entanglements  with 
harness,  and  mixed  up  with  horses  and  wheels  of  chaises,  in  the  most 
surprising  manner,  firmly  believing  that  by  so  doing,  he  was  materially 
forwarding  the  preparations  for  their  resuming  their  journey. 

'*  Jump  in — jump  in  !  "  cried  old  Wardle,  climbing  into  the  chaise, 
pulling  up  the  steps,  and  slamming  the  door  after  him.  **  Come  along, 
make  haste."     And  before  Mr.  Pickwick  knew  precisely  what  he  was 


88 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


about,  he  felt  himself  forced  in  at  the  other  door,  by  one  pull  from  the 
old  gentleman ,*and  one  push  from  the  hostler ;  and  off  they  were  again. 

*'  Ah  I  we  are  moving-  now/'  said  the  old  gentleman  exultingly. 
They  were  indeed,  as  was  sufficiently  testified  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  by  his 
constant  collisions  either  with  the  hard  wood-work  of  the  chaise,  or  the 
body  of  his  companion. 

*'  Hold  up  !  "  said  the  stout  old  Mr.  Wardle,  as  Mr.  Pickwick  dived 
head  foremost  into  his  capacious  waistcoat. 

"  I  never  did  feel  such  a  jolting  in  my  life,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'*  Never  mind,"  replied  his  companion,  "  it  '11  soon  be  over.  Steady, 
steady." 

Mr.  Pickwick  planted  himself  into  his  own  corner,  as  firmly  as  he 
could ;  and  on  whirled  the  chaise  faster  than  ever. 

They  had  travelled  in  this  way  about  three  miles,  when  Mr.  Wardle, 
who  had  been  looking  out  of  the  window  for  two  or  three  minutes, 
suddenly  drew  in  his  face,  covered  with  splashes,  and  exclaimed  in 
breathless  eagerness — 

"  Here  they  are  !  " 

Mr.  Pickwick  thrust  his  head  out  of  his  window.  Yes  :  there  was  a 
chaise  and  four,  a  short  distance  before  them,  dashing  along  at  full 
gallop. 

"  Go  on,  ^o  on,"  almost  shrieked  the  old  gentleman.  "  Two  guineas 
a-piece,  boys — don't  let  'em  gain  on  us — keep  it  up — keep  it  up." 

The  horses  in  the  first  chaise  started  on  at  their  utmost  speed ;  and 
those  in  Mr.  Wardle's  galloped  furiously  behind  them. 

"  I  see  his  head,"  exclaimed  the  choleric  old  man,  "  Damme,  1  see 
his  head." 

«  So  do  I,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  «  that's  he." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  not  mistaken.  The  countenance  of  Mr.  Jingle, 
completely  coated  with  the  mud  thrown  up  by  the  wheels,  was  plainly 
discernible  at  the  window  of  his  chaise;  and  the  motion  of  his  arm, 
which  he  was  waving  violently  towards  the  postilions,  denoted  that  he 
was  encouraging  them  to  increased  exertion. 

The  interest  was  intense.  Fields,  trees,  and  hedges,  seemed  to  rush 
past  them  with  the  velocity  of  a  whirlwind,  so  rapid  was  the  pace  at 
which  they  tore  along.  They  were  close  by  the  side  of  the  first  chaise. 
Jingle's  voice  could  be  plainly  heard,  even  above  the  din  of  the  wheels, 
urging  on  the  boys.  Old  Mr.  Wardle  foamed  with  rage  and  excite- 
ment. He  roared  out  scoundrels  and  villains  by  the  dozen,  clenched 
his  fist  and  shook  it  expressively  at  the  object  of  his  indignation  ;  but 
Mr.  Jingle  only  answered  with  a  contemptuous  smile,  and  replied  to  his 
menaces  by  a  shout  of  triumph,  as  his  horses,  answering  the  increased 
application  of  whip  and  spur,  broke  into  a  faster  gallop,  and  left  the 
pursuers  behind. 

Mr.  Pickyvick  had  just  drawn  in  his  head,  and  Mr.  Wardle,  exhausted 
with  shouting,  had  done  the  same,  when  a  tremendous  jolt  threw  them 
forward  against  the  front  of  the  vehicle.  There  was  a  sudden  bump— a 
loud  crash — away  rolled  a  wheel,  and  over  went  the  chaise. 

After  a  very  few  seconds  of  bewilderment  and  confusion,  in  which 


^: 


% 


/-^  ss 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  89 

noUiiiig  l»ut  the  plunging  of  horsos,  and  breaking  of  glass,  could  be 
made  out,  Mr.  Pickwick  felt  himself  violently  pulled  out  from  among 
the  ruins  of  the  chaise ;  and  as  soon  as  he  had  gained  his  feet,  and 
extricated  his  head  from  the  skirts  of  his  great  coat  which  materially 
impeded  the  usefulness  of  his  spectacles,  the  full  disaster  of  the  case 
met  his  view. 

Old  Mr.  Wardle  without  a  hat,  and  his  clothes  torn  in  several  places, 
stood  by  his  side,  and  the  fragments  of  the  chaise  lay  scattered  at  their 
feet.  The  post-boys,  who  had  succeeded  in  cutting  the  traces,  were 
standing,  disrigured  with  mud  and  disordered  by  hard  riding,  by  the 
horses*  heads.  About  a  hundred  yards  in  advance  was  the  other  chaise, 
which  had  pulled  up  on  hearing  the  crash.  The  postillions,  each  with  a 
broad  grin  convulsing  his  countenance,  were  viewing  the  adverse  party 
from  their  saddles,  and  Mr.  Jingle  was  contemplating  the  wreck  from  the 
coach-win<low,  with  evident  satisfaction.  The  day  was  just  breaking, 
and  the  whole  scene  was  rendered  perfectly  visible  by  the  grey  light  of 
the  morning. 

♦<  Hallo  I  shouted  the  shameless  Jingle,  "  any  body  damaged  ? — 
elderly  gentlemen — no  light  weights— dangerous  work — very." 

**  You're  a  rascal !  "  roared  Wardle. 

"  Ha!  hal  "  replied  Jingle;  and  then  he  added,  with  a  knowing 
wink,  and  a  jerk  of  the  thumb  towards  the  interior  of  the  chaise — "  I 
say — she's  very  well — desires  her  compliments — begs  you  won't  trouble 
yourself — love  to  Tuppy — won't  you  get  up  behind  ? — drive  on  boys." 

The  postilions  resumed  their  proper  attitudes,  and  away  rattled  the 
chaise,  Mr,  Jingle  fluttering  in  derision  a  white  handkerchief  from  the 
coach  window. 

Nothing  in  the  whole  adventure,  not  even  the  upset,  had  disturbed 
the  calm  and  equable  current  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  temper.  The  villany 
however,  which  could  first  borrow  money  of  his  faithful  follower,  and 
then  abbreviate  his  name  to  "  Tuppy,"  was  more  than  he  could  patiently 
bear.  He  drew  his  breath  hard,  and  coloured  up  to  the  very  tips  of  his 
spectacles,  as  he  said,  slowly  and  emphatically — 

"  If  ever  I  meet  that  man  again,  I'll — " 

**  Yes,  yes,"  interrupted  Wardle,  "  that's  all  very  well :  but  while  we 
stand  talking  here,  they'll  get  their  licence,  and  be  married  in  London." 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  bottled  up  his  vengeance,  and  corked  it  down. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  the  next  stage  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Wardle,  of  one  of 
the  boys. 

"  Six  mile,  a'nt  it,  Tom?  " 

"  Rayther  better." 

"  Rayther  better  nor  six  mile,  Sir." 

'*  Can't  be  helped,"  said  Wardle,  •*  we  must  walk  it,  Pickwick." 

"  No  help  for  it,"  replied  that  truly  great  man. 

So  sending  forward  one  of  the  boys  on  horseback,  to  procure  a  fresh 
chaise  and  horses,  and  leaving  the  other  behind  to  take  care  of  the 
broken  one,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Wardle  set  manfully  forward  on  the 
walk,  first  tying  their  shawls  round  their  necks,  and  slouching  down 
their  hats  to  escape  as  much  as  possible  from  the  deluge  of  rain,  which 
after  a  slight  cesHution,  had  again  begun  to  pour  heavily  down. 


00  rOSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


CHAPTER  X. 

CLEARING    UP   ALL    DOUBTS    (iF    ANY    EXISTED)    OF    THE    DISINTER- 
ESTEDNESS   OF    MR.    jingle's    CHARACTER. 

r  a  ' 

There  are  in  London  several  old  inns,  once  the  head  quarters  of 
celebrated  coaches  in  the  days  when  coaches  performed  their  journeys 
in  a  graver  and  more  solemn  manner  than  they  do  in  these  times  ;  but 
which  have  now  degenerated  into  little  more  than  the  abiding  and 
booking  places  of  country  wagons.  The  reader  would  look  in  vain 
for  any  of  these  ancient  hostelries,  among  the  Golden  Crosses  and  Bull 
and  Mouths,  which  rear  their  stately  fronts  in  the  improved  streets  of 
London.  If  he  would  light  upon  any  of  these  old  places,  he  must  direct 
his  steps  to  the  obscurer  quarters  of  the  town ;  and  there  in  some 
secluded  nooks  he  will  find  several,  still  standing  with  a  kind  of  gloomy 
sturdiness,  amidst  the  modern  innovations  which  surround  them. 

In  the  Borough  especially,  there  still  remain  some  half  dozen  old 
inns,  which  have  preserved  their  external  features  unchanged,  and  which 
have  escaped  alike  the  rage  for  public  improvement,  and  the  encroach- 
ments of  private  speculation.  Great,  rambling,  queer,  old  places  they 
ftre,  with  galleries,  and  passages,  and  stair-cases,  wide  enough  and  anti- 
quated enough,  to  furnish  materials  for  a  hundred  ghost  stories,  supposing 
we  should  ever  be  reduced  to  the  lamentable  necessity  of  inventing  any, 
and  that  the  world  should  exist  long  enough  to  exhaust  the  innumer- 
able veracious  legends  connected  with  old  London  Bridge,  and  its  adja- 
cent neighbourhood  on  the  Surrey  side. 

It  was  in  the  yard  of  one  of  these  inns — of  no  less  celebrated  a  one 
than  the  White  Hart — that  a  man  was  busily  employed  in  brushing  the 
dirt  off  a  pair  of  boots,  early  on  the  morning  succeeding  the  events 
narrated  in  the  last  chapter.  He  was  habited  in  a  coarse-striped  waist- 
coat, with  black  calico  sleeves,  and  blue  glass  buttons :  drab  breeches 
and  leggings.  A  bright  red  handkerchief  was  wound  in  a  very  loose  and 
unstudied  style  round  his  neck,  and  an  old  white  hat  was  carelessly 
thrown  on  one  side  of  his  head.  There  were  two  rows  of  boots  before 
him,  one  cleaned  and  the  other  dirty,  and  at  every  addition  he  made  to 
the  clean  row,  he  paused  from  his  work,  and  contemplated  its  results 
with  evident  satisfaction. 

The  yard  presented  none  of  that  bustle  and  activity  which  are  the 
usual  characteristics  of  a  large  coach  inn.  Three  or  four  lumbering 
wagons,  each  with  a  pile  of  goods  beneath  its  ample  canopy,  about  the 
height  of  the  second-floor  window  of  an  ordinary  house,  were  stowed 
away  beneath  a  lofty  roof  which  extended  over  one  end  of  the  yard ; 
and  another,  which  was  probably  to  commence  its  journey  that  morning, 
v.'a:«  drawn  out  into  the  open  space.     A  double   tier  of  bed-room  gal- 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUi.  9T 

lerieS)  with  old  clumsy  balustraJes,  ran  round  two  sides  of  the  straggling 
area,  and  a  double  row  of  bells  to  correspond,  sheltered  from  the  wea- 
ther by  a  little  sloping  roof,  hung  over  the  door  leading  to  the  bar  and 
coffee-room.  Two  or  three  gigs  and  chaise-carts  were  wheeled  up 
under  difl'erent  little  sheds  and  pent-houses ;  and  the  occasional  heavy 
tread  of  a  cart-horse,  or  rattling  of  a  chain  at  the  fi?rther  end  of  the 
yard,  announced  to  any  body  who  cared  about  the  matter,  that  the 
stable  lay  in  that  direction.  When  we  add  that  a  few  boys  in  smock 
frocks,  were  lying  asleep  on  heavy  packages,  woolpacks,  and  other 
articles  that  were  scattered  about  on  heaps  of  straw,  we  have  described 
as  fully  as  need  be,  the  general  appearance  of  the  yard  of  the  White 
Hart  Inn,  High  Street,  Borough,  on  the  particular  morning  in 
quet>tion. 

A  loud  ringing  of  one  of  the  bells,  was  followed  by  the  appearance 
of  a  smart  chambermaid  in  the  upper  sleeping  gallery,  who,  after  tap- 
ping at  one  of  the  doors,  and  receiving  a  request  from  within,  called  over 
the  balustrades. 

"  Sam  I " 

"  Hallo,"  replied  the  man  with  the  white  hat. 

"  Number  twenty-two  wants  his  boots." 

"  Ask  number  twenty-two,  vether  he'll  have  'em  now,  or  vait  till 
he  gets  'em,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Come,  don't  be  a  fool,  Sam,"  said  the  girl,  coaxingly,  *•  the  gentle- 
roan  wants  his  boots  directly." 

"  Well,  you  are  a  nice  young  'ooman  for  a  musical  party,  you  are," 
said  the  boot-cleaner.  "  Look  at  these  here  boots — eleven  pair  o* 
boots ;  and  one  shoe  as  b'longs  to  number  six,  with  the  wooden  leg 
The  eleven  boots  is  to  be  called  at  half-past  eight  and  the  shoe  at  nine. 
Who's  number  twenty-two,  that's  to  put  all  the  others  out?  No,  no; 
reg'lar  rotation,  as  Jack  Ketch  said,  ven  he  tied  the  men  up.  Sorry  to 
keep  you  a  watin'.  Sir,  but  I'll  attend  to  you  directly." 

Saying  which,  the  man  in  the  white  hat  set  to  work  upon  a  top-boot 
with  increased  assi(fuity. 

There  was  another  loud  ring ;  and  the  bustling  old  landlady  of  the 
White  Hart  made  her  appearance  in  the  opposite  gallery. 

"  Sam,"  cried  the  landlady,  "where's  that  lazy,  idle — why  Sam — 
oh,  there  you  are  ;  whydon't  you  answer?  " 

"  Vouldn't  be  gen-teel  to  answer,  'till  you'd  done  talking,"  replied 
Sam,  gruffly. 

'*  Here,  clean  them  shoes  for  number  seventeen  directly,  and  take 
'em  to  private  sitting-room,  number  five,  first  floor." 

The  landlady  flung  a  pair  of  lady's  shoes  into  the  yard,  and  bustled 
away. 

"  Number  5,"  said  Sam,  as  he  picked  up  the  shoes,  and  taking  a 
piece  of  chalk  from  his  pocket,  made  a  memorandum  of  their  destina- 
tion on  the  soles — "  Lady's  shoes  and  private  sittiu'  room  !  I  suppose 
the   didn't  come  in  the  vaggin." 

*'  She  came  in  early  this  morning,"  cried  the  girl,  who  was  still  lean- 
ing over  the  railing  of  the  gallery,   "  with  a  gentleman  in  a  hackney- 


y^  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

coach,  and  it's  him  as  wants  his  boots,  and  you'd  better  do  'em,  and 
that's  all  about  it." 

"  Vy  didn't  you  say  so  before,"  said  Sara,  with  great  indignation, 
singling  out  the  boots  in  question  from  the  heap  before  him.  "  For  all 
I  know'd  he  vas  one  o'  the  regular  three-pennies.  Private  room  I  and 
a  lady  too  I  If  he's  anything  of  a  gen'lm'n,  he's  vurth  a  shillin'  a  day, 
let  alone  the  arrands." 

Stimulated  by  this  inspiring  reflection,  Mr.  Samuel  brushed  away 
with  such  hearty  good  will,  that  in  a  few  minutes  the  boots  and  shoes, 
with  a  polish  which  would  have  struck  envy  to  the  soul  of  the  amiable 
Mr.  Warren,  (for  they  used  Day  and  Martin  at  the  White  Hart)  had 
arrived  at  the  door  of  number  five. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  man's  voice,  in  reply  to  Sam's  rap  at  the  door. 

Sam  made  his  best  bow,  and  stepped  into  the  presence  of  a  lady  ana 
gentleman  seated  at  breakfast.  Having  officiously  deposited  the  gen- 
tleman's boots  right  and  left  at  his  feet,  and  the  lady's  shoes  right  and 
left  at  hers,  he  backed  towards  the  door. 

"  Boots,"  said  the  gentleman. 

"  Sir,"  said  Sam,  closing  the  door,  and  keeping  his  hand  on  the 
knob  of  the  lock. 

•'  Do  you  know — what's  a-name — Doctors'  Commons  ?  " 

"  Yes  Sir." 

"  Where  is  it  ?  " 

"  Paul's  Church-yard,  Sir;  low  archway  on  the  carriage-side,  book- 
seller's at  one  corner,  hot- el  on  the  other,  and  two  porters  in  the  mid- 
dle as  touts  for  licences." 

"  Touts  for  licences  !  "  said  the  gentleman. 

**  Touts  for  licences,"  replied  Sam.  "Two  coves  in  vhite  aprons-— 
touches  their  hats  ven  you  walk  in — 'Licence,  Sir,  licence ?  '  Queer 
sort,  them,  and  their  mas'rs  too,  Sir — Old  Bailey  Proctors— and  no 
mistake." 

"  What  do  they  do  ?  "  inquired  the  gentleman. 

"  Do  I  You,  Sir  !  That  an't  the  worst  on  it,  neither.  They  puts 
things  into  old  gen'lm'ns  heads  as  they  never  dreamed  of.  My  father, 
Sir,  vos  a  coachman.  A  vidower  he  vos,  and  fat  enough  for  anything 
- — uncommon  fat,  to  be  sure.  His  missus  dies,  and  leaves  him  four 
hundred  pound.  Down  he  goes  to  the  Commons,  to  see  the  lawyer  and 
draw  the  blunt — wery  smart- — top  boots  on — nosegay  in  his  button- 
hole— broad-brimmed  tile — green  shawl — quite  the  gen'lm'n.  Goes 
through  the  archvay,  thinking  how  he  should  inwest  the  money — up 
comes  the  touter,  touches  his  hat — *  Licence,  Sir,  licence  ?  '— '  What's 
that  ?  '  says  my  father. — *  Licence,  Sir,'  says  he. — '  What  licence  ?  * 
says  my  father. — '  Marriage  licence,'  says  the  touter. — '  Dash  my  ves- 
iit,'  says  my  father,  '  I  never  thought  o'  that.' — *  I  think  you  wants 
one,  Sir,'  says  the  touter.  My  father  pulls  up,  and  thinks  a  bit — *  No,* 
says  he,  *  damme,  I'm  too  old,  b'sides  I'm  a  many  sizes  too  large,'  says 
he. — «  Not  a  bit  on  it,  Sir,'  says  the  touter. — '  Think  not  ? '  says  my 
father. — <  I'm  sure  not,  says  be;  'we  married  a  gen'lm'n  twice  your 
size,  last  Monday.' — '  Did  you,  though,'  said  my  father. — «  To  be  sure, 


TUB    PICKWICK    CLUB.  OS 

ve  did,'  says  tbe  touler,  *  you're  a  babby  to  him — this  vay,  Sir — thit> 
vay  ! ' — and  sure  enough  my  father  walks  urter  him,  like  a  tame  monkey 
behind  a  horgan,  into  a  little  back  office,  vere  a  feller  sat  among  dirty 
papers  and  tin  boxes,  making  believe  he  was  busy.  *  Pray  take  a  seat, 
vile  I  makes  out  the  affidavit,  Sir,'  says  the  lawyer. — *  'J'hunkee,  Sir,* 
says  my  father,  and  down  he  sat,  and  stared  vith  all  his  eyes,  and  his 
mouth  vide  open,  at  the  names  on  the  boxes. — *  What's  your  name, 
Sir,'  says  the  lawyer.' — *  Tony  Weller,'  says  my  father. — '  Parish  ?  * 
says  the  lawyer. — '  Belle  Savage,*  says  my  father ;  for  he  stopped  there 
ven  he  drove  up,  and  he  know'd   nothing  about  parishes,  he  didn't. — 

*  And  what's  the  lady's  name?'  says  the  lawyer.  My  father  was  struck 
all  of  a  heap.  '  Blessed  if  I  know,*  says  he. — '  Not  know  ! '  says  the 
lawyer.—'  No  more  nor  you  do,'  says  my  father,  '  can't  I  put  that  in 
arterwards  ?  '  — '  Impossible  I '  says  the  lawyer. — '  Wery  well,'  says 
my  father,  after  he'd  thought  a  moment,  'put   down   Mrs.  Clarke.* — 

*  What  Clarke?  '  says  the  lawyer,  dipping  his  pen  in  the  ink. — '  Susan 
C  Wke,  Markis  o'  Granby,  Dorking,'  says  my  father ;  *  she'll  have  me, 
if  £  ask  her,  1  des-say — I  never  said  nothing  to  her,  but  she'll  have  me, 
I  know.'  The  licence  was  made  out,  and  she  did  have  him,  and  what's 
more  she's  got  him  now ;  and  /  never  had  any  of  the  four  hundred 
pound,  worse  luck.  Beg  your  pardon.  Sir,"  said  Sam,  when  he  had 
concluded,  "  but  vhen  I  gets  on  this  here  grievance,  I  runs  on  like  a 
new  barrow  vith  the  vheel  greased."  Having  said  which,  and  having 
paused  for  an  instant  to  see  whether  he  was  w  anted  for  any  thing  more, 
8am  left  the  room. 

♦*  Half-past  nine — just  the  time — off  at  once  ;"  said  the  gentleman, 
whom  we  need  hardly  introduce  as  Mr.  Jingle. 

"  Time — for  what  ?  "  said  the  spinster  aunt,  coquettishly. 

"  Licence,  dearest  of  angels — give  notice  at  the  church — call  you 
mine,  to-morrow  " — said  Mr.  Jingle,  and  he  squeezed  the  spinster 
aunt's  hand. 

"  The  licence  !  "  said  Rachael,  blushing. 

*•  The  licence,"  repeated  jNIr.  Jingle — 

"  In  hurry,  post-hoete  for  a  licence. 
Id  hurry,  ding  dong  I  come  back." 

*'  How  you  run  on,"  said  Rachael. 

"  Run  on — nothing  to  the  hours,  days,  weeks,  months,  years,  when 
we're  united — run  on — they'll  fly  on — bolt — mizzle — steam-engine — 
thousand-horse  power — nothing  to  it.'* 

"  Can't — can't  we  be  married  before  to-morrow  morning  ?  "  inquired 
Rachael. 

"  Impossible — can't  be — notice  at  the  church — leave  the  licence  to- 
day— ceremony  come  off  to-morrow." 

"  I  am  so  terrified,  lest  my  brother  should  discover  us !  "  said 
Rachael. 

"  Discover — nonsense — too  much  shaken  by  the  break  down — 
bebides— extreme  caution — gave  up  the  post-chaise — walked  on — took. 


^4  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

a  hackney-coach — came  to  the  Borough — last  place   in  the  world  that 
he'd  look  in — ha  !  ha  ! — capital  notion  that — very." 

"  Don't  he  long-,"  said  the  spinster,  affectionately,  as  Mr.  Jingle 
stuck  the  pinched  up  hat  on  his  head. 

'*  Long  away  from  you  9 — Cruel  charmer/'  and  Mr.  Jingle  skipped 
playfully  up  to  the  spinster  aunt,  imprinted  a  chaste  kiss  upon  her  lips, 
and  danced  out  of  the  room. 

^'  Dear  man  !  "  said  the  spinster,  as  the  door  closed  after  him. 

<'  Rum  old  girl,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  as  he  walked  down  the  passage. 

It  is  painful  to  reflect  upon  the  perfidy  of  our  species  ;  and  we  will 
not  therefore,  pursue  the  thread  of  Mr.  Jingle's  meditations,  as  he 
wended  his  way  to  Doctors'  Commons.  It  will  be  sufficient  for  our 
purpose  to  relate,  that  escaping  the  snares  of  the  dragons  in  white 
aprons,  who  guard  the  entrance  to  that  enchanted  region,  he  reached 
the  Vicar  General's  office  in  safety,  and  having  procured  a  highly  flat- 
tering address  on  parchment,  from  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
to  his  "  trusty  and  well-beloved  Alfred  Jingle  and  Rachael  Wardle, 
greeting,"  he  carefully  deposited  the  mystic  document  in  his  pocket,  and 
retraced  his  steps  in  triumph  to  the  Borough. 

Ho  was  yet  on  his  way  to  the  White  Hart,  when  two  plump  gentle- 
men and  one  thin  one,  entered  the  yard,  and  looked  round  in  search  of 
some  authorised  person  of  whom  they  could  make  a  few  inquiries.  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller  happened  to  be  at  that  moment  engaged  in  burnishing 
a  pair  of  painted  tops,  the  personal  property  of  a  farmer,  who  was 
refreshing  himself  with  a  slight  lunch  of  two  or  three  pounds  of  cold 
beef  and  a  pot  or  two  of  porter,  after  the  fatigues  of  the  Borough 
market ;  and  to  him  the  thin  gentleman  straightway  advanced — 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  thin  gentleman. 

"  You're  one  o'  the  adwice  gratis  order,"  thought  Sara,  "  or  you 
wouldn't  be  so  werry  fond  o'  me  all  at  once."  But  he  only  said-— 
"  Well  Sir." 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  thin  gentleman,  with  a  conciliatory  hem — 
"  Have  you  got  many  people  stopping  here,  now?  Pretty  busy. 
Eh?" 

Sam  stole  a  look  at  the  inquirer.  He  was  a  little  high-dried  man, 
with  a  dark  squeezed  up  face,  and  small  restless  black  eyes,  that  kept 
winking  and  twinkling  on  each  side  of  his  little  inquisitive  nose,  as  if 
they  were  playing  a  perpetual  game  of  peep-bo  with  that  feature.  He 
was  dressed  all  in  black,  with  boots  as  shiny  as  his  eyes,  a  low  white 
neckcloth,  and  a  clean  shirt  with  a  frill  to  it.  A  gold  watch-chain,  and 
seals,  depended  from  his  fob.  He  carried  his  black  kid  gloves  in  his 
hands,  not  on  them ;  and  as  he  spoke,  thrust  his  wrists  beneath  his 
coat-tails,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  was  in  the  habit  of  propounding 
some  regular  posers. 

"  Pretty  busy,  eh  ?  "  said  the  little  man. 

*•  Oh,  werry  well.  Sir,"  replied  Sam,  "  we  shan't  be  bankrupts,  and 
we  shan't  make  our  forl'ns.  We  eats  our  biled  mutton  without  capers, 
and  don't  care  for  horse-radish  ven  ve  can  get  beef." 

<*  Ah,"  said  the  little  man,  '•  you're  a  wag,  a'nt  you?  " 


^Wmlllff^ 


rr 


THK    PICKWICK    CLUB.  O^ 

"  31  y  elJest   brother  was  trouMetl    with  ihut   compliiint,"    saitl  Sam 
"  it  may  he  catching — I  used  to  sleep  »»;ith  him." 

**  Tliis  is  a  curious  old  house  of  yours,"  said  the  little  man,  lookiiijf 
round  him. 

*♦  If  you'd  sent  word  you  was  a  coming,  we'd  ha'  had  it  repaired  ;" 
replied  the  imperturbable  Sam. 

The  little  man  seemed  rather  baffled  by  these  several  repulses,  and  a 
short  consultation  took  place  between  him  and  the  two  plump  gentle- 
men. At  its  conclusion,  the  little  man  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  from  an 
oblong  silver  box,  and  was  apparently  on  the  point  of  renewing  the 
conversation,  when  one  of  the  plump  gentlemen,  who  in  addition  to  a 
benevolent  countenance,  possessed  a  pair  of  spectacles,  and  a  pair  of 
black  gaiters,  interfered — 

"  The  fact  of  the  matter  is,"  said  the  benevolent  gentleman,  "  that 
my  friend  here  (pointing  to  the  other  plump  gentleman,)  will  give  you 
half  a  guinea,  if  you'll  answer  one  or  two — " 

"  Now,  my  dear  Sir — my  dear  Sir,"  said  the  little  man,  "  pray  allow 
me — my  dear  Sir,  the  very  first  principle  to  be  observed  in  these  cases, 
is  this  ;  if  you  place  a  matter  in  the  hands  of  a  professional  man,  you 
must  in  no  way  interfere  in  the  progress  of  the  business  ;  you  must 
repose  implicit  confidence  in  him.  Really,  Mr.  (he  turned  to  the  other 
plump  gentleman,  and  said) — I  forget  your  friend's  name." 

"  Pickwick,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  for  it  was  no  other  than  that  jolly 
personage. 

"  Ah,  Pickwick — really  Mr.  Pickwick,  my  dear  Sir,  excuse  me — I 
shall  be  happy  to  receive  any  private  suggestions  of  yours,  as  amicus 
curice,  but  yon  must  see  the  impropriety  of  your  interfering  with  my 
conduct  in  this  case,  with  such  an  ad  caplandum  argument,  as  the  oft'er 
of  half  a  guinea.  Really,  my  dear  Sir,  really,"'  and  the  little  man  took 
an  argumentative  pinch  of  snuff,  and  looked  very  profound. 

'•  My  only  wish.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  '*  was  to  bring  this  very 
unpleasant  matter  to  as  speedy  a  close  as  possible." 

"  Quite  right — quite  right,"  said  the  little  man. 

"  With  which  view,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  made  use  of  the 
argument  which  my  experience  of  men  has  taught  me  is  the  most 
likely  to  succeed  in  any  case," 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  the  little  man,  "  very  good,  very  good,  indeed ;  but 
you  should  have  suggested  it  to  me.  My  dear  Sir,  I'm  quite  certain 
you  cannot  be  ignorant  of  the  extent  of  confidence  which  must  be 
placed  in  professional  men.  If  any  authority  can  be  necessary  on  such 
a  point,  my  dear  Sir,  let  me  refer  you  to  the  well-known  case  in  Barn- 
well and — " 

"  Never  mind  George  Barn  veil,"  interrupted  Sam,  who  had  remained 
a  wondering  listener  during  this  short  colloquy  ;  "  every  body  knows 
vhat  sort  of  a  case  his  was,  tho'  it's  always  been  my  opinion,  mind  you, 
that  the  young  'ooman  deserved  scragging  a  precious  sight  more  than 
he  did.  Hows'ever,  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  You  want  me  \o 
except  of  half  a  guinea.  Werry  well,  I'm  agreeable  :  I  can't  say  no 
fairer  than  that,  can  I,  Sir  ?     (Mr.  Pickwick  smiled.)     Then  the  next 


96  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

question  is,  what  the  devil  do  you  want  with  rae,  as  the  man  said  ven 
he  seed  the  ghost  ?  " 

"  We  want  to  know" — said  Mr.  Wardle. 

"  Now  my  dear  Sir — my  dear  Sir,"  interposed  the  busy  little  man. 

Mr.  Wardle  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  was  silent. 

<'  We  want  to  know,"  said  the  little  man,  solemnly  ;  "  and  we  ask  the 
question  of  you,  in  order  that  we  may  not  awaken  apprehensions  inside 
—we  want  to  know  who  you've  got  in  this  house,  at  present." 

"  Who  there  is  in  the  house  I  "  said  Sara,  in  whose  mind  the  inmates 
were  always  represented  by  that  particular  article  of  their  costume, 
which  came  under  his  immediate  superintendence.  "  There's  a  vooden 
leg  in  number  six,  there's  a  pair  of  Hessians  in  thirteen,  there's  two 
pair  of  halves  in  the  commercial,  there's  these  here  painted  tops  in  the 
snuggery  inside  the  bar,  and  five  more  tops  in  the  coffee-room." 

"  Nothing  more  ?  "  said  the  little  man. 

"  Stop  a  bit,"  replied  Sam,  suddenly  recollecting  himself.  *'  Yes ; 
there's  a  pair  of  Vellingtons  a  good  deal  vorn,  and  a  pair  o'  lady's  shoes, 
in  number  five." 

"  What  sort  of  shoes  ?  "  hastily  inquired  Wardle,  who,  together  with 
Mr,  Pickwick,  had  been  lost  inbewilderment  at  the  singular  catalogue 
of  visiters. 

"  Country  make,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Any  maker's  name  ?  " 

*<  Brown," 

«  Where  of?  " 

"  Muggleton." 

"  It  is  them,"  exclaimed  Wardle.  "  By  Heavens,  we've  found 
them." 

"  Hush  I "  said  Sam.  "  The  Vellingtons  has  gone  to  Doctors'  Com- 
mons. 

*'  No,"  said  the  little  man. 

"  Yes,  for  a  licence." 

"  We're  in  time,"  exclaimed  Wardle.  "  Show  us  the  room;  not  a 
moment  is  to  be  lost." 

"  Pray,  my  dear  Sir — pray,"  said  the  little  man  ;  "  caution,  caution.'* 
He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  red  silk  purse,  and  looked  very  hard  at  Sam 
as  he  drew  out  a  sovereign. 

Sam  grinned  expressively. 

"  Show  us  into  the  room  at  once,  without  announcing  us,"  said  the 
little  man,  "  and  it's  yours." 

Sam  threw  the  painted  tops  into  a  corner,  and  led  the  way  through 
a  dark  passage,  and  up  a  wide  staircase.     He  paused  at  the  end  of  a, 
second  passage,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Here  it  is,"  whispered  the  attorney,  as  he  deposited  the  money  in 
the  hand  of  their  guide. 

The  man  stepped  forward  for  a  few  paces,  followed  by  the  two  friends 
and  their  legal  adviser.     He  stopped  at  a  door. 

"  Is  this  the  room  ?  "  murmured  the  little  gentleman. 

Sam  nodded  assent. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  97 

Old  Wardle  opened  the  door;  and  the  whole  three  walked  into  the 
room  just  as  Mr.  Jinj,^lts  who  had  that  moment  returned,  had  produced 
the  licence  to  the  spinster  aunt. 

The  spinster  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and,  throwing  herself  in  a  chair, 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  Mr.  Jing^le  crumpled  up  the  licence, 
and  thrust  it  into  his  coat-pocket.  The  unwelcome  visiters  advanced 
into  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"  You — you  are  a  nice  rascal, ar'n't  you  ?  "  exclaimed  Wardle,  breath- 
less with  passion. 

"  My  dear  Sir,  my  dear  Sir,"  said  the  little  man,  laying  his  hat  on 
the  table.  "  Pray,  consider — pray.  Scandnlum  magnatum,  defama- 
tion of  character,  action  for  damages.     Calm  yourself,   my  dear  Sir, 

pray—" 

'*  How  dare  you  drag  my  sister  from  my  house?  "  said  the  old  man. 

"  Ay — ay — very  good,"  said  the  little  gentleman,  "  you  may  ask 
that.     How  dare  you.  Sir? — eh.  Sir?" 

**  WTio  the  devil  are  you  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Jingle,  in  so  fierce  a  tone, 
that  the  little  gentleman  involuntarily  fell  back  a  step  or  two. 

**  Who  is  he,  you  scoundrel,"  interposed  Wardle.  "  He's  my  lawyer, 
Mr.  Perker,  of  Gray's  inn.  Perker,  I'll  have  this  fellow  prosecuted — 
indicted — I'll — I'll— damme,  I'll  ruin  him.  And  you,"  continued  Mr. 
Wardle  turning  abruptly  round  to  his  sister,  **  you  Uachael,  at  a  time 
of  life  when  you  ought  to  know  better,  what  do  you  mean  by  running 
ai»-ay  with  a  vagabond,  disgracing  your  family,  and  making  yourself 
miserable.  Get  on  your  bonnet,  and  come  back.  Call  a  hackney-coach 
there,  directly,  and  bring  this  lady's  bill,  d'ye  hear — d'ye  hear  ?  " 

*'  Cert'nly,  Sir,"  replied  Sam,  who  had  answered  Wardle's  violent 
ringing  of  the  bell  with  a  degree  of  celerity,  which  must  have  appeared 
marvellous  to  any  body  who  didn't  know  that  his  eye  had  been  applied 
to  the  outside  of  the  key-hole  during  the  whole  interview. 

'*  Get  on  your  bonnet,"  repeated  Wardle. 

*'  Do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Jingle.  "  Leave  the  room,  Sir — no 
business  here — lady's  free  to  act  as  she  pleases — more  than  one-and- 
twenty." 

*'  More  than  one-and  twenty  I  "  ejaculated  Wardle,  contemptuousl}-. 
*'  More  than  one  and-forty  I  " 

'*  I  a'nt,"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  her  indignation  getting  the  better  of 
her  determination  to  faint. 

"  You  are,"  replied  Wardle,  "  you're  fifty  if  you're  an  hour." 

Here  the  spinster  aunt  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and  became  senseless. 

*'  A  glass  of  water,"  said  the  humane  Mr.  Pickwick,  summoning  the 
landlady. 

*'  A  glass  of  water  !  "  said  the  passionate  Wardle.  "  Bring  a  bucket, 
and  throw  it  all  over  her ;  it'll  do  her  good,  and  she  richly  deserves  it.*' 

*•  Ugh,  you  brute !  "  ejaculated  the  kind-hearted  landlady.  "  Poor 
dear."  And  with  sundry  ejaculations,  of  "  Come  now,  there's  a  dear — 
drink  a  little  of  this — it'll  do  you  good — don't  give  way  so — there's  a 
love,"  &c.  &c.  the  landlady,  assisted  by  a  chambermaid,  proceeded  to 
vinegar  the  forehead,  beat  the  hands,  titillate  the  nose,  and  unlace  thi- 


08  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

stays  of  the  spinster  aunt,  and  to  administer  such  other  restoratives 
as  are  usually  applied  by  compassionate  females  to  ladies  who  are  endea- 
vouring to  ferment  themselves  into  hysterics. 

*'  Coach  is  ready,  Sir,"  said  Sam,  appearing  at  the  door. 

"  Come  along,"  cried  Wardle.     "  I'll  carry  her  down  stairs." 

At  this  proposition,  the  hysterics  came  on  with  redoubled  violence.  . 

The  landlady  was  about  to  enter  a  very  violent  protest  against  this 
proceeding,  and  had  already  given  vent  to  an  indignant  inquiry  whether 
Mr.  Wardle  considered  himself  a  lord  of  the  creation,  when  Mr,  Jingle 
interposed — 

"  Boots,"  said  he,  "  get  me  an  officer." 

*'  Stay,  stay,"  said  little  Mr.  Perker.     «  Consider,  Sir,  consider." 

"  I'll  not  consider,"  replied  Jingle,  **  she's  her  own  mistress — see 
who  dares  to  take  her  away — unless  she  wishes  it." 

"  I  wont  be  taken  away,"  murmured  the  spinster  aunt.  "  I  dont 
wish  it."     (Here  there  was  a  frightful  relapse.) 

*'  My  dear  Sir,"  said  the  little  man,  in  a  low  tone,  taking  Mr.  War- 
dle and  Mr.  Pickwick  apart :  ^'  My  dear  Sir,  we're  in  a  very  awkward 
situation.  It's  a  distressing  case — very;  I  never  knew  one  more  so; 
but  really,  my  dear  Sir,  really  we  have  no  power  to  controul  this  lady's 
actions.  I  warned  you  before  we  came,  my  dear  Sir,  that  there  was 
nothing  to  look  to  but  a  compromise." 

There  was  a  short  pause. 

"  What  kind  of  compromise  would  you  recommend  ?  "  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Why,  my  dear  Sir,  our  friend's  in  an  unpleasant  position — very 
much  so.     We  must  be  content  to  suffer  some  pecuniary  loss." 

"  I'll  suffer  any,  rather  than  submit  to  this  disgrace,  and  let  her,  fool 
as  she  is,  be  made  miserable  for  life/'  said  Wardle. 

"  I  rather  think  it  can  be  done,"  said  the  bustling  little  man.  "  Mr. 
Jingle,  will  you  step  with  us  into  the  next  room  for  a  moment  ?  " 

Mr.  Jingle  assented,  and  the  quartette  walked  into  an  empty  apart- 
ment. 

"  Now  Sir,"  said  the  little  man,  as  he  carefully  closed  the  door,  "  is 
there  no  way  of  accommodating  this  matter — step  this  way  Sir,  for  a 
moment — into  this  window,  Sir,  where  we  can  be  alone — there,  Sir, 
there,  pray  sit  down,  Sir.  Now,  my  dear  Sir,  between  you  and  I,  we 
know  very  well,  my  dear  Sir,  that  you  have  run  off  with  this  lady  for 
the  sake  of  her  money.  Don't  frown,  Sir,  don't  frown  ;  I  say,  between 
you  and  I,  we  know  it.  We  are  both  men  of  the  world,  and  we  know 
very  well  that  our  friends  here,  are  not- — eh  ?  " 

Mr.  Jingle's  face  gradually  relaxed  ;  and  something  distantly  resem- 
bling a  wink,  quivered  for  an  instant  in  his  left  eye. 

"  Very  good,  very  good,"  said  the  little  man,  observing  the  impres- 
sion he  had  made.  "  Now  the  fact  is,  that  beyond  a  few  hundreds,  the 
lady  has  little  or  nothing  till  the  death  of  her  mother — fine  old  lady, 
my  dear  Sir." 

"  0/c?,"'said  Mr.  Jingle,  briefly  but  emphatically. 

*'  Why,  yes,"  said   the  attorney,  with  a  slight  cough.     "  You  are 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  9tf 

right,  my  dear  Sir,  slie  is  ixither  old.  She  comes  of  an  old  family 
ihougfh,  my  dear  Sir ;  old  in  every  Rense  of  the  word.  The  founder  of 
that  family  came  into  Kent,  when  Julius  Ceesar  invaded  Hritain  ; — only 
one  member  of  it,  since,  who  hiisn't  lived  to  eighty-Hve,  and  he  was 
beheaded  by  one  of  the  Henrys.  The  old  lady  is  not  seventy-three 
now,  my  dear  Sir."  The  little  man  paused,  and  took  a  pinch  of  snuff. 
•♦  Well,"  cried  Mr.  Jingle. 

"  Well,  my  dear  Sir — you  don't  take  snuff? — ah  I  so  much  the  better 
—expensive  habit — well,  my  dear  Sir,  you're  a  fine  young  man,  man  of 
the  world — able  to  push  your  fortune,  if  you  had  capital,  eh  ?  " 
"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Jingle  again. 
"  Do  you  comprehend  me  ?  " 
**  Not'quite." 

"  Don't  you  think — now,  ray  dear  Sir,  I  put  it  to  you,  dont  you 
think — that  fifty  pounds  and  liberty,  would  be  better  than  Miss  Wardle 
and  expectation  ?  " 

**  Won't  do — not  half  enough  !  "  said  Mr.  Jingle,  rising. 
*'  Nay,  nay,  my  dear  Sir,"  remonstrated   the  little  attorney,  seizing 
bim  by  the  button.      "  Good  round  sum — a  man  like  you  could  treble 
it  in  no  time — great  deal  to  be  done  with  fifty  pounds,  my  dear  Sir." 

"  More  to  be  done  with  a  hundred  and  fifty,"  replied  Mr.  Jingle, 
coolly. 

"  Well,  ray  dear  Sir,  we  won't  waste  time  in  splitting  strews,"  resumed 
the  little  man,  "  say — say — seventy." 
"  Won't  do,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

"Don't  go  away,  my  dear  Sir — pray   don't   hurry,"  said    the  little 
man.     '•  Eighty  ;  come  :  I'll  write  you  a  cheque  at  once." 
"  Won't  do,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

"  Well,  my  dear  Sir,  well,"  said  the  little  man,  still  detaining  him; 
"just  tell  me  what  will  do." 

**  Expensive  affair,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  "  Money  out  of  pocket — 
posting,  nine  pounds  ;  licence,  three — that's  twelve — compensation,  a 
hundred — hundred  and  twelve — Breach  of  honour-— and  loss  of  the 
lady — ' 

**  Yes,  my  dear  Sir,  yes,"  said  the  little  man,  with  a  knowing  look, 
"  never  mind  the  last  two  items.  That's  a  hundred  and  twelve — say  a 
hundred — come." 

*  And  twenty,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

•*  Come,  come,  I'll  write  you  a  cheque,"  said  the  little  man  ;  and 
down  he  sat  at  the  table  for  that  purpose. 

"  I'll  make  it  payable  the  day  after  to-morrow,"  said  the  little  man, 
with  a  look  towards   Mr.  Wardle;  "and   we   can  get   the  lady  away, 
meanwhile."     Mr.  Wardle  sullenly  nodded  assent. 
*♦  A  hundred,"  said  the  little  man. 
"  And  twenty,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 
"  My  dear  Sir,"  remonstrated  the  little  man. 
"  Give  it  him,"  interposed  Mr.  Wardle,  ♦'  and  let  him  ^o.*' 
The  cheque  was  written  by  the  little  gentleman,  and  pocketed  by 
Mr.  Jingle. 


100 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


"  Now,  leave  this  house  instantly  I  "  said  Wardle,  starting  up. 

"  My  dear  Sir,"  urged  the  little  man. 

*'  And  mind,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  "  that  nothing  should  have  induced 
me  to  make  this  compromise — not  even  a  regard  for  my  family — if  I 
had  not  known,  that  the  moment  you  got  any  money  in  that  pocket  of 
yours,  you'd  go  to  the  devil  faster,  if  possible,  than  you  would  without 
it — " 

"  My  dear  Sir,"  urged  the  little  man  again. 

"  Be  quiet,  Perker,"  resumed  Wardle.     '<  Leave  the  room,  Sir." 

"  Oif  directly,"  said  the  unabashed  Jingle.  "  Bye — bye — Pickwick." 

If  any  dispassionate  spectator  could  have  beheld  the  countenance  of 
the  illustrious  man,  whose  name  forms  the  leading  f€>ature  of  the  title 
of  this  work,  during  the  latter  part  of  this  conversation,  he  would  have 
been  almost  induced  to  wonder  that  the  indignant  fire  which  Hashed 
from  his  eyes,  did  not  melt  the  glasses  of  his  spectacles — so  majestic 
was  his  wrath.  His  nostrils  dilated,  and  his  fists  clenched  involuntarily, 
as  ho  heard  himself  addressed  by  the  villain.  But  he  restrained  him- 
self again— he  did  wo#  pulverise  him. 

<'  Here,"  continued  the  hardened  traitor,  tossing  the  licence  at  Mr. 
Pickwick's  feet ;  "  get  the  name  altered — take  home  the  lady— do  for 
Tiippy." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  a  philosopher,  but  philosophers  are  only  men  in 
armour,  after  all.  The  shaft  had  reached  him,  penetrated  through  his 
philosophical  harness,  to  his  very  heart.  Jn  the  frenzy  of  his  rage,  he 
hurled  the  inkstand  madly  forward,  and  followed  it  up  himself.  But 
Mr.  Jingle  had  disappeared,  and  he  found  himself  caught  in  the  arms 
of  Sam. 

'*  Hallo,"  said  that  eccentric  functionary,  "  furniter's  cheap  vere  you 
come  from.  Self  acting  ink,  that  'ere  ;  it's  wrote  your  mark  upon  the 
wall,  old  gen'lm'n.  Hold  still,  Sir :  wot's  the  use  o'  runnin'  arter  a 
man  as  has  made  his  lucky,  and  got  to  t'  other  end  of  the  Borough 
by  this  time." 

Mr.  Pickwick's  mind,  like  those  of  all  truly  great  men,  was  open  to 
conviction.  He  was  a  quick,  and  powerful  reasoner ;  and  a  moment's 
reflection  sufficed  to  remind  him  of  the  impotency  of  his  rage.  It  sub- 
sided as  quickly  as  it  had  been  roused.  He  panted  for  breath,  and  looked 
benignanfly  round  upon  his  friends. 

Shall  we  tell  the  lamentations  that  ensued,  when  Miss  Wardle  found 
herself  deserted  by  the  faithless  Jingle?  Shall  we  extract  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's masterly  description  of  that  heart-rending  scene  ?  His  note- 
book, blotted  with  the  tears  of  sympathising  humanity,  lies  open  before 
us ;  one  word,  and  it  is  in  the  printer's  hands.  But,  no !  we  will  be 
resolute  I  We  will  not  wring  the  public  bosom,  with  the'  delineation 
of  such  suffering ! 

Slowly  and  sadly  did  the  two  friends  and  the  deserted  lady,  return 
next  day  in  the  Muggleton  heavy  coach.  Dimly  and  darkly  had  the 
sombre  shadows  of  a  summer's  night  fallen  upon  all  around,  when  they 
again  reached  Dingley  Dell,  and  stood  within  the  entrance  to  Manor 
Farm. 


•f  / 


THK    PICKWICK    CLUB.  101 


CHAPTKR  XI. 

INVOLVING  ANOTHER  JOURNEY,  AND  AN   ANTIQUARIAN   DISCOVERY. 
RECORDING    MR.    PICKWICK's     DETERMINATION      TO      BE     PRESENT 

at  an  election;  and  containing  a  manuscript  of  the  old 
clergyman's. 

A  NIGHT  of  quiet  and  repose  in  the  profound  silence  of  Diuglej 
Dell,  and  an  hour's  breathing  of  its  fresh  and  fragrant  air  on  the  ensuing 
morning,  completely  recovered  Mr.  Pickwick  from  the  effects  of  his 
late  fatigue  of  body  and  anxiety  of  mind.  That  illustrious  man  had 
been  separated  from  his  friends  and  followers,  for  two  whole  days ;  and 
it  was  with  a  degree  of  pleasure  and  delight,  which  no  common  imagi- 
nation can  adequately  conceive,  that  he  stepped  forward  to  greet  Mr. 
Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgi*ass,  as  he  encountered  those  gentlemen  on  his 
return  from  his  early  walk.  The  pleasure  was  mutual ;  for  who 
could  ever  gaze  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  beaming  face  without  experiencing 
the  sensation  ?  But  still  a  cloud  seemed  to  hang  over  his  companions 
which  that  great  man  could  not  but  be  sensible  of,  and  was  wholly  at  a 
loss  to  account  for.  There  was  a  mysterious  air  about  them  both,  as 
unusual  as  it  was  alarming. 

"  And  how,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  he  had  grasped  his  followers 
by  the  hand,  and  exchanged  warm  salutations  of  welcome ;  "  how  is 
Tupraan  ?  " 

Mr.  Winkle,  to  whom  the  question  was  more  peculiarly  addressed, 
made  no  reply.  He  turned  away  his  head,  and  appeared  absorbed,  in 
melancholy  reflection. 

"  Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  earnestly,  "  How  is  our  friend — he 
is  not  ill  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass  ;  and  a  tear  trembled  on  his  sentimental 
eye-lid,  like  a  rain-drop  on  a  window-frame.     *'  No ;  he  is  not  ill." 

Mr.  Pickwick  stopped,  and  gazed  on  each  of  his  friends  in  turn. 

"  Winkle — Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  :  "  what  does  this  mean  ? 
Where  is  our  friend  ?  What  has  happened  ?  Speak — I  conjure,  I 
entreat — nay,  I  command  you,  speak." 

There  was  a  solemnity — a  dignity — in  Mr.  Pickwick's  manner,  not 
to  be  withstood. 

"  He  is  gone,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Gone  I  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  Gone  ! '' 

*'  Gone,"  repeated  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Where  ?"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  We  can  only  guess,  from  that  communication,"  replied  Mr.  Snod- 
grass, taking  a  letter  from  his  pocket,  and  placing  it  in  his  friend's 
hand.  "  Yesterday  morning,  when  a  letter  was  received  from  Mr. 
Wardle,  stating  that  you  would  be  home  with  his  sister  at  night,  the 
melancholy  which  had  hung  over  our  friend  during  the  whole  of  ihe 

L  2 


102  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

previous  day,  was  observed  to  increase.  He  shortly  afterwards  disap- 
peared :  he  was  missing  during-  the  whole  day,  and  in  the  evening-  this 
letter  was  brought  by  the  hostler  from  the  Crown,  at  Muggleton.  It 
had  been  left  in  his  charge  in  the  morning,  with  a  strict  injunction  that 
it  should  not  be  delivered  until  night." 

Mr.  Pickwick  opened  the  epistle.  It  was  in  his  friend's  hand-writing, 
and  these  were  its  contents : 

"  My  dear  Pickwick, 

'*  You,  my  dear  friend,  are  placed  far  beyond  the  reach  of  many 
mortal  fraiUies  and  weaknesses  which  ordinary  people  cannot  overcome. 
You  do  not  know  what  it  is,  at  one  blow,  to  be  deserted  by  a  lovely  and 
fascinating  creature,  and  to  fall  a  victim  to  the  artifices  of  a  villain,  who 
hid  the  grin  of  cunning,  beneath  the  mask  of  friendship.  I  hope  you 
never  may. 

"  Any  letter,  addressed  to  me  at  the  Leather  Bottle,  Cobham,  Kent, 
will  be  forwarded — supposing  I  still  exist.  I  hasten  from  the  sight  of 
that  world,  which  has  become  odious  to  me.  Should  I  hasten  from  it 
altogether,  pity — forgive  me.  Life,  my  dear  Pickwick,  has  becomie 
insupportable  to  me.  The  spirit  which  burns  within  us,  is  a  porter's 
knot,  on  which  to  rest  the  heavy  load  of  worldly  cares  and  troubles ; 
and  when  that  spirit  fails  us,  the  burden  is  too  heavy  to  be  borne.  We 
sink  beneath  it.     You  may  tell  Rachael — Ah,  that  name  I — 

"Tracy  Tupman." 

«  We  must  leave  this  place,  directly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  re- 
folded the  note.  "  It  would  not  have  been  decent  for  us  to  remain 
here,  under  any  circumstances,  after  what  has  happened  ;  and  now  we 
are  bound  to  follow  in  search  of  our  friend."  And  so  saying,  he  led  the 
way  to  the  house. 

His  intention  was  rapidly  communicated.  The  entreaties  to  remain 
were  pressing,  but  Mr.  Pickwick  was  inflexible.  Business,. he  said, 
required  his  immediate  attendance. 

The  old  clergyman  was  present. 

"  You  are  not  really  going?  "  said  he,  taking  Mr.  Pickwick  aside. 

Mr.  Pickwick  reiterated  his  former  determination. 

"  Then  here,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  is  a  little  manuscript,  which 
I  bad  hoped  to  have  the  pleasure  of  reading  to  you  myself.  I  found  it 
on  the  death  of  a  friend  of  mine — a  medical  man,  engaged  in  our  County 
Lunatic  Asylum — among  a  variety  of  papers,  which  I  had  the  option 
of  destroying  or  preserving,  as  I  thought  proper.  I  can  hardly  believe 
that  the  manuscript  is  genuine,  though  it  certainly  is  not  in  my  friend's 
hand.  However,  whether  it  be  the  genuine  production  of  a  maniac,  or 
founded  upon  the  ravings  of  some  unhappy  being,  whioh  I  think  more 
probable,  read  it,  and  judge  for  yourself." 

Mr.  Pickwick  received  the  manuscript,  and  parted  from  the  benevo- 
lent old  gentleman  with  many  expressions  of  good-will  and  esteem. 

It  was  a  more  difficult  task  to  take  leave  of  the  inmates  of  Manor 
Farm,  from  whom  they  had  received  so  much  hospitality  and  kindness. 


i 


I 


THK    PlCkWlCK    CLUB.  103 


Mr.  Pickwick  kissed  the  youngs  ladies — we  were  going  to  say,  as  if 
they  were  hiu  own  daughters,  only  as  he  might  possihly  have  infused 
a  little  naoro  warmth  into  the  salutation,  the  comparison  would  not  be 
quito  appropriate — hup:ged  the  old  lady  with  filial  cordiality  :  and  pat- 
ted the  rosy  cheeks  of  the  female  servants  in  a  most  patriarchal  manner, 
as  he  slipped  into  the  hands  of  each,  some  more  substantial  expressions 
of  his  approval.  The  exchange  of  cordialities  with  their  fine  old  host 
and  Mr.  Trundle,  were  even  more  hearty  and  prolonged  ;  and  it  was  not 
until  Mr.  Snodgrass  had  been  several  times  called  for,  and  at  last 
emeri^ed  from  a  dark  passage  followed  soon  after  by  Emily  (whose  bright 
eyes  looked  unusually  dim)  that  the  three  friends  were  enabled  to  tear 
themselves  from  their  friendly  entertainers.  Many  a  backward  look 
they  gave  at  the  Farm,  as  they  walked  slowly  away  :  and  many  a  kiss 
did  Mr.  Snodgrass  waft  in  the  air,  in  acknowledgement  of  something 
very  like  a  lady's  handkerchief,  which  was  waved  from  one  of  the  upper 
windows,  until  a  turn  of  the  lane  hid  the  old  house  from  their  sight. 

At  Muggleton  they  procured  a  conveyance  to  Rochester.  By  the 
time  they  reached  the  last-named  place,  the  violence  of  their  grief  had 
sufficiently  abated  to  admit  of  their  making  a  very  excellent  early  din- 
ner ;  and  having  procured  the  necessary  information  relative  to  the  road, 
the  three  friends  set  for^vard  again  in  the  afternoon  to  walk  to  Cobham. 

A  delightful  walk  it  was  :  for  it  was  a  pleasant  afternoon  in  June, 
and  their  way  lay  through  a  deep  and  shady  wood,  cooled  by  the  light 
wind  which  gently  rustled  the  thick  foliage,  and  enlivened  by  the  songs  of 
the  birds  that  perched  upon  the  boughs.  The  ivy  and  the  moss  crept  in 
thick  clusters  over  the  old  trees,  and  the  soft  green  turf  overspread  the 
ground  like  a  silken  mat.  They  emerged  upon  an  open  park,  with  an 
ancient  hall,  displaying  the  quaint  and  picturesque  architecture  of  Eliza- 
beth's time.  Long  vistas  of  stately  oaks  and  elm  trees  appeared  on 
every  side :  large  herds  of  deer  were  cropping  the  fresh  grass  ;  and  occa- 
sionally a  startled  hare  scoured  along  the  ground,  with  the  speed  of  the 
shadows  thrown  by  the  light  clouds  which  sweep  across  a  sunny  land- 
scape like  a  passing  breath  of  summer. 

"  If  this,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  about  him;  "if  this  were  the 
place  to  which  all  who  are  troubled  with  our  friend's  complaint  came,  I 
fancy  their  old  attachment  to  this  world  would  very  soon  return." 
'  I  think  so  too,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  And  really,"  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  half  an  hour's  walking  had 
brought  them  to  the  village,  "  really  for  a  misanthrope's  choice,  this  is 
one  of  the  prettiest  and  most  desirable  places  of  residence,  I  ever  met 
with." 

In  this  opinion  also,  both  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  expressed 
their  concurrence ;  and  having  been  directed  to  the  Leather  Bottle,  a 
clean  and  commodious  village  ale-house,  the  three  travellers  entered, 
and  at  once  inquired  for  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Tupman. 

"  Show  the  gentlemen  into  the  parlour,  Tom,"  said  the  landlady. 

A  stout  country  lad  opened  a  door  at  the  end  of  the  passage,  and  the 
three  friends  entered  2  long,  low-roofed  room,  furnished  with  a  large 
number  of  high-backed  leather-cushioned  chairs,  of  fantastic  shapes, 


104  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

and  embellished  with  a  great  variety  of  old  portraits  and  roughly- 
coloured  prints  of  some  antiquity.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  room  was 
a  table,  with  a  white  cloth  upon  it,  well  covered  with  a  roast  fowl, 
bacon,  ale^  and  et  ceteras ;  and  at  the  table  sat  Mr.  Tupman,  looking 
as  unlike  a  man  who  had  taken  his  leave  of  the  world,  as  possible. 

On  the  entrance  of  his  friends,  that  gentleman  laid  down  his  knife 
and  fork,  and  with  a  mournful  air  advanced  to  meet  them. 

"  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  here,"  he  said,  as  he  grasped  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's hand.     "  It's  very  kind." 

"  Ah  I  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  sitting  down,  and  wiping  from  his  fore- 
head the  perspiration  which  the  walk  had  engendered.  "  Finish  your 
dinner,  and  walk  out  with  me.     I  wish  to  speak  to  you  alone." 

Mr.  Tupman  did  as  he  was  desired  ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  having  refreshed 
himself  with  a  copious  draught  of  ale,  waited  his  friend's  leisure.  The 
dinner  was  quickly  despatched,  and  they  walked  out  together. 

For  half  an  hour,  their  forms  might  have  been  seen  pacing  the  church- 
yard to  and  fro,  while  Mr.  Pickwick  was  engaged  in  combatting  his 
companion's  resolution.  Any  repetition  of  his  arguments  would  be 
useless  ;  for  what  language  could  convey  to  them  that  energy  and  force 
which  their  great  originator's  manner  communicated  ?  Whether  Mr. 
Tupman  was  already  tired  of  retirement,  or  whether  he  was  wholly  un- 
able to  resist  the  eloquent  appeal  which  was  made  to  him,  matters  not ; 
he  did  not  resist  it  at  last. 

"  It  mattered  little  to  him,"  he  said,  "  where  he  dragged  out  the 
miserable  remainder  of  his  days  :  and  since  his  friend  laid  so  much 
stress  upon  his  humble  companionship,  he  was  willing  to  share  his 
adventures." 

Mr.  Pickwick  smiled  ;  they  shook  hands;  and  walked  back  to  re-join 
their  companions. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Mr.  Pickwick  made  that  immortal  disco- 
very, which  has  been  the  pride  and  boast  of  his  friends,  and  the  envy 
of  every  antiquarian  in  this  or  any  other  country.  They  had  passed 
the  door  of  their  inn,  and  walked  a  little  way  down  the  village,  before 
they  recollected  the  precise  spot  in  which  it  stood.  As  they  turned 
back,  Mr.  Pickwick's  eye  fell  upon  a  small  broken  stone,  partially 
buried  in  the  ground,  in  front  of  a  cottage-door.     He  paused. 

"  This  is  very  strange,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  What  is  strange  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Tupman,  staring  eagerly  at  every 
object  near  him,  but  the  right  one.  "  God  bless  me,  what's  the  matter  ?" 

This  last  was  an  ejaculation  of  irrepressible  astonishment,  occasioned 
by  seeing  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  his  enthusiasm  for  discovery,  fall  on  his 
knees  before  the  little  stone,  and  commence  wiping  the  dust  off  it  with 
his  pocket-handkerchief. 

"  There  is  an  inscription  here,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Is  it  possible  !  "  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  I  can  discern,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  rubbing  away  with  all  his 
might,  and  gazing  intently  through  his  spectacles  :  "  I  can  discern  a 
cross,  and  a  B,  and  then  a  T.  This  is  important,"  continued  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, starting  up.  "  This  is  some  very  old  inscription,  existing  perhaps 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  105^ 

long  befure  the  ancient  alms-houses  in  thiii  place.  It  must  not  bt 
logt." 

He  tapped  at  the  cottaj^e-door.     A  labouring  man  opened  it. 

•♦  Do  you  know  how  this  stone  came  here,  my  friend  ?  "  inquired  the 
benevolent  Mr.  Pickwick. 

**  No,  I  doan't.  Sir,**  replieil  the  man,  civilly.  **  It  was  here  long 
afore  I  war  born,  or  any  on  us." 

Mr.  Pickwick  glanced  triumphantly  at  his  companion. 

'*  You — you — are  not  particularly  attached  to  it,  1  dare  say,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  trembling  with  anxiety.     '*  You  wouldn't  mind  selling  it, 

HOW  .'' 

"  Ah  !  but  who'd  buy  it?  "  inquired  the  man,  with  an  expression  of 
face  which  he  probably  meant  to  be  very  cunning. 

"  I'll  give  you  ten  shillings  for  it,  at  once/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  if 
you  woulil  take  it  up  for  me." 

The  astonishment  of  the  village  may  he  easily  imagined,  when  (the 
little  stone  having  been  raised  with  one  wrench  of  a  spade),  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, by  dint  of  great  personal  exertion,  bore  it  with  his  own  hands  to 
the  inn,  and  after  having  carefully  washed  it,  deposited  it  on  the  table. 

The  exultation  and  joy  of  the  Pickwickians  knew  no  bounds,  when 
their  patience  and  assiduity,  their  vviii>hing  and  scraping,  were  crowned 
with  success.  The  stone  was  uneven  and  broken,  and  the  letters  were 
straggling  and  irregular,  but  the  following  fragment  of  an  inscription 
was  clearly  to  be  deciphered  : 

4- 

B      I      L     S     T 

U      M 

P     S      H      I 

S.    M. 

ARK 

Mr.  Pickwick's  eyes  sparkled  with  delight,  as  he  sat  and  gloated  over 
the  treasure  he  had  discovered.  He  had  attained  one  of  the  greatest 
objects  of  his  ambition.  In  a  county  known  to  abound  in  remains  of 
the  early  ages ;  in  a  village  in  which  there  still  existed  some  memorials 
of  the  olden  time,  he — he,  the  Chairman  of  the  Pickwick  Club — had 
discovered  a  strange  and  curious  inscription  of  unquestionable  antiquity  , 
which  had  wholly  escaped  the  observation  of  the  many  learned  men 
who  had  preceded  him.  He  could  hardly  trust  the  evidence  of  his 
senses. 

"This — this,"  said  he,  *Sleteimines  me.  We  return  to  town,  to- 
morrow." 

»*  To-morrow  I  "  exclairaetl  his  admiring  followers 

"  To-morrow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  *'  This  treasure  must  be  at  once 
deposited  where  it  can  be  thoroughly  investigated,  and  properly  under- 
stood. I  have  another  reason  for  this  step.  In  a  few  days,  an  election 
is  to  take  place  for  the  borough  of  Eatunswill,  at  which  Mr.  Perker,  a 
gentleman  whom  I  lately  met,  is  the  age  ut  of  one  of  the  candidates. 


106  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

We  will  heboid,  and  minutely  examine,  a  »cer\e  so  interesting  to  every 
Englishman." 

"  We  will/'  was  the  animated  cry  of  three  voices. 

Mr.  Pickwick  looked  round  him.  The  attachment  and  fervour  of 
Iiis  followers,  lighted  up  a  glow  of  enthusiasm  within  him.  He  was 
their  leader,  and  he  felt  it. 

"  Let  us  celebrate  this  happy  meeting,  with  a  convivial  glass,'*  said  he. 
This  proposition,  like  the  other,  was  received  with  unanimous  applause. 
And  having  himself  deposited  the  important  stone  in  a  small  deal  box, 
purchased  from  the  landlady  for  the  purpose,  he  placed  himself  in  an 
arm-chair  at  the  head  of  the  table ;  and  the  evening  was  devoted  to 
festivity  and  conversation. 

It  was  past  eleven  o'clock — a  late  hour  for  the  little  village  of  Cob- 
ham — when  Mr.  Pickwick  retired  to  the  bed-room  which  had  been 
prepared  for  his  reception.  He  threw  open  the  lattice-window,  and 
setting  his  light  upon  the  table,  fell  into  a  train  of  meditation  on  the 
hurried  events  of  the  two  preceding  days. 

The  hour  and  the  place  were  both  favourable  to  contemplation ;  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  roused,  by  the  church-clock  striking  twelve.  The  first 
stroke  of  the  hour  sounded  solemnly  in  his  ear,  but  when  the  bell  ceased 
the  stillness  seemed  insupportable  ; — he  almost  felt  as  if  he  had  lost  a 
companion.  He. was  nervous  and  excited  ;  and  hastily  undressing  him- 
self, and  placing  his  light  in  the  chimney,  got  into  bed. 

Everj'^  one  has  experienced  that  disagreeable  state  of  mind,  in  which 
a  sensation  of  bodily  weariness  in  vain  contends  against  an  inability  to 
sleep.  It  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  condition  at  this  moment  :  he  tossed  first 
on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other;  and  perseveringly  closed  his  eyes 
as  if  to  coax  himself  to  slumber.  It  was  of  no  use.  Whether  it  was 
the  unwonted  exertion  he  had  undergone,  or  the  heat,  or  the  brandy 
and  water,  or  the  strange  bed — whatever  it  v/as,  his  thoughts  kept 
reverting  very  uncomfortably  to  the  grim  pictures  down  stairs,  and  the 
old  stories  to  which  they  had  given  rise  in  the  course  of  the  evening. 
After  half  an  hour's  tumbling  about,  he  came  to  the  unsatisfactory  con- 
clusion, that  it  was  of  no  use  trying  to  sleep  ;  so  he  got  up  and  partially 
dressed  himself.  Anything,  he  thought,  was  better  than  lying  there 
fancying  all  kinds  of  horrors.  He  looked  out  of  the  window — it  was 
very  dark.  He  walked  about  the  room — it  was  very  lonely. 

He  had  taken  a  few  turns  from  the  door  to  the  window,  and  from  the 
window  to  the  door,  when  the  clergyman's  manuscript  for  the  first  time 
entered  his  head.  It  was  a  good  thought.  If  it  failed  to  interest  him, 
it  might  send  him  to  sleep.  He  took  it  from  his  coat-pocket,  and 
drawing  a  small  table  towards  his  bed-side,  trimmed  the  light,  put  on 
his  spectacles,  and  composed  himself  to  read.  It  was  a  strange  hand- 
writing, and  the  paper  was  much  soiled  and  blotted.  The  title  gave 
him  a  sadden  start,  too;  and  he  could  not  avoid  casting  a  wistful  glance 
round  the  room.  Reflecting  on  the  absurdity  of  giving  way  to  such 
feelings,  however,  he  trimmed  the  light  again,  and  read  as  follows: 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    Cl.LB.  107 


A    MADMAN'S  MANUSCUIPT. 

"  Yes ! — ft  madman's  !  How  that  word  would  hiive  struck  to  my 
heart,  many  years  ago  I  How  it  would  have  roused  tlie  terror  that  used 
to  come  upon  me  sometimes;  sending  the  blood  hissing  and  tingling- 
through  my  veins,  'till  the  cold  dew  of  fear  stood  in  large  drops  upon 
my  skin,  and  my  knees  knocked  together  with  fright  I  1  like  it  now 
though.  It's  a  fine  niinie.  Shew  me  the  monarch  whose  angry  frown 
was  ever  feared  like  the  glare  of  a  madman's  eye — whoso  cord  and  axe, 
were  ever  half  so  sure  as  a  madman's  gripe.  Hoi  hoi  It's  a  grand 
thing  to  be  mad  I  to  be  peeped  at  like  a  wild  lion  through  the  iron 
bars — to  gnash  one's  teeth  and  howl,  through  the  long  f^till  night,  to  the 
merry  ring  of  a  heavy  chain — and  to  roll  and  twine  among  the  straw, 
transported  with  such  brave  music.  Hurrah  for  the  madhouse  I  Oh 
t's  a  rare  place  ! 

"  1  reraembec  days  when  I  was  afraid  of  being  mad  ;  when  I  used  to 
start  from  my  sleep,  and  fall  upon  my  knees,  and  pray  to  be  spared 
from  the  curse  of  my  race  ;  when  I  rushed  from  the  sight  of  merriment 
or  happiness,  to  hide  myself  in  some  lonely  place,  and  spend  the  weary 
hours  in  watching  the  progress  of  the  fever  that  was  to  consume  my 
brain.  I  knew  that  madness  was  mixed  up  with  my  very  blood,  and  the 
marrow  of  my  bones  ;  that  one  generation  had  passed  away  without  the 
pestilence  appearing  among  them,  and  that  I  was  the  first  in  whom  it 
would  revive.  I  knew  it  mttst  he  so :  that  so  it  always  had  been,  and 
io  it  ever  would  be  ;  and  when  I  cowered  in  some  obscure  corner  of  a 
crowded  room,  and  saw  men  whisper,  and  point,  and  turn  their  eyes 
towards  me,  I  knew  they  were  telling  each  other  of  the  doomed  mad- 
man ;  and  I  slunk  away  again  to  mope  in  solitude. 

'*  I  did  this  for  years  ;  long,  long  years  they  were.  The  nights  here 
are  long  sometimes — very  long ;  but  they  are  nothing  to  the  restless 
nights,  and  dreadful  dreams  I  had  at  that  time.  It  makes  me  cold  to 
remember  them.  Large  dusky  forms  with  sly  and  jeering  faces 
crouched  in  the  corners  of  the  room,  and  bent  over  my  bed  at  night, 
tempting  me  to  madness.  They  told  me  in  low  whispers,  that  the 
floor  of  the  old  house  in  which  my  father's  father  died,  was  stained  with 
his  own  blood,  shed  by  his  own  hand  in  raging  madness.  I  drove  my 
fingers  into  my  ears,  but  they  screamed  into  my  head  till  the  room 
rang  with  it,  that  in  one  generation  before  him  the  madness  slumbered, 
but  that  his  grandfather  had  lived  for  years  with  his  hands  fettered  to 
the  ground,  to  prevent  his  tearing  himself  to  pieces.  I  knew  they  told 
the  truth — I  knew  it  well.  I  had  found  it  out  years  before,  though 
they  had  tried  to  keep  it  from  me.  Ha !  ha  I  I  was  too  cunning  for 
them,  madman  as  they  thought  me. 

**  At  last  it  came  upon  me,  and  I  wondered  how  I  could  ever  have 
feared  it.  I  could  go  into  the  world  now,  and  laugh  and  shout  with  the 
best  among  them.  I  knew  I  was  mad,  but  they  did  not  even  suspect 
it.  How  I  used  to  hug  myself  with  delight,  when  I  thought  of  the 
fine  trick  I  was  playing  them  after  their  old  pointing  and  leering,  when 


\W  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

I  was  not  mad,  but  only  dreading-  that  I  might  one  day  become  so  I 
And  how  I  used  to  laugh  for  joy,  when  I  was  alone,  and  thought  how 
well  I  kept  ray  secret,  and  how  quickly  my  kind  friends  would  have 
fallen  from  me,  if  they  had  known  the  truth.  I  could  have  screamed 
with  ecstacy  when  I  dined  alone  with  some  tine  roaring  fellow,  to  think 
how  pale  he  would  have  turned,  and  how  fast  he  would  have  run,  if  he 
had  known  that  the  dear  friend  who  sat  close  to  him,  sharpening  a 
bright  glittering  knife,  was  a  madman  with  all  the  power,  and  half  the 
will,  to  plunge  it  in  his  heart.     Oh,  it  was  a  merry  life  I 

"  Riches  became  mine,  wealth  poured  in  upon  me,  and  I  rioted  in 
pleasures  enhanced  a  thousand  fold  to  me  by  the  consciousness  of  my 
well-kept  secret.  I  inherited  an  estate.  The  law — the  eagle-eyed 
law  itself,  had  been  deceived,  and  had  handed  over  disputed  thousands  to 
a  madman's  hands.  Where  was  the  wit  of  the  sharp-sighted  men  of 
sound  mind  ?  Where  the  dexterity  of  the  lawyers,  eager  to  discover  a 
flaw  ?     The  madman's  cunning  had  over-reached  them  all. 

"  I  had  money.  How  I  was  courted  !  I  spent  it  profusely.  How  I 
was  praised  !  How  those  three  proud  overbearing  brothers  humbled 
themselves  before  me !  The  old  white-headed  father,  too— such 
deference — such  respect — such  devoted  friendship — why  he  worshipped 
me.  The  old  man  had  a  daughter,  and  the  young  men  a  sister;  and 
all  the  five  were  poor.  I  was  rich  ;  and  when  I  married  the  girl,  I  saw 
a  smile  of  triumph  play  upon  the  faces  of  her  needy  relatives,  as  they 
thought  of  their  well-planned  scheme,  and  their  fine  prize.  It  was  for 
me  to  smile.  To  smile  !  To  laugh  outright,  and  tear  my  hair,  and 
roll  upon  the  ground  with  shrieks  of  merriment.  They  little  thought 
they  had  married  her  to  a  madman. 

"  Stay.  If  they  had  known  it,  would  they  have  saved  her  ?  A  sister's 
aappiness  against  her  husband's  gold.  The  lightest  feather  I  blow  into 
ihe  air,  against  the  gay  chain  that  ornaments  my  body  ! 

"  In  one  thing  I  was  deceived  with  all  my  cunning.  If  I  had  not  been 
mad — for  though  we  madmen  are  sharp-witted  enough,  we  get  bewil- 
dered sometimes — I  should  have  known  that  the  girl  would  rather 
have  been  placed,  stiff  and  cold  in  a  dull  leaden  coffin,  than  borne  an 
envied  bride  to  my  rich,  glittering,  house.  I  should  have  known  that 
her  heart  was  with  the  dark-eyed  boy  whose  name  I  once  heard  her 
breathe  in  her  troubled  sleep  ;  and  that  she  had  been  sacrificed  to  me, 
to  relieve  the  poverty  of  the  old  white-headed  man,  and  the  haughty 
brothers. 

"  I  don't  remember  forms  or  faces  now,  but  I  know  the  girl  was 
beautiful.  I  know  she  was  ;  for  in  the  bright  moonlight  nights,  when 
I  start  up  from  my  sleep,  and  all  is  quiet  about  me,  I  see,  standing  still 
and  motionless  in  one  corner  of  this  cell,  a  slight  and  wasted  figure  with 
long  black  hair,  which  streaming  down  her  back,  stirs  with  no  earthly 
wind,  and  eyes  that  fix  their  gaze  on  me,  and  never  wink  or  close. 
Hush !  the  blood  chills  at  my  heart  as  I  write  it  down — that  form  is 
hers ;  the  face  is  very  pale,  and  the  eyes  are  glassy  bright ;  but  I  know 
them  well.  That  figure  never  moves;  it  never  frowns  and  mouths  as 
others  do,  that  fill  this  place  sometimes ;  but  it  is  much  more  dreadful 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  109 

to  me,  even    than   the  spirits  ^hat  tempted   me    many    years  ago — it 
comes  fresh  from  the  grave  ;  and  is  so  very  death-like. 

"  For  nearly  a  year  I  saw  that  face  grow  paler ;  for  nearly  a  year,  I 
saw  the  tears  steal  down  the  mournful  cheeks,  and  never  knew  the 
cause.  I  found  it  out  at  last  though.  They  could  not  keep  it  from 
me  long.  She  had  never  liked  me ;  I  had  never  thought  she  did :  she 
despised  my  wealth,  and  hated  the  splendour  in  which  she  lived ; — I 
had  not  expected  that.  She  loved  another.  This  I  had  never  thought 
of.  Strange  feelings  came  over  me,  and  thoughts  forced  upon  me  by 
some  secret  power,  whirled  round  and  round  my  brain.  I  did  not  hate 
ber,  though  I  hated  the  boy  she  still  wept  for.  I  pitied — yes,  I  pitied — 
the  wretched  life  to  which  her  cold  and  selfish  relations  had  doomed 
her.  I  knew  that  she  could  not  live  long,  but  the  thought  that  before 
her  death  she  might  give  birth  to  some  ill-fated  being,  destined  to  hand 
down  madness  to  its  offspring,  determined  me.     I  resolved  to  kill  her. 

"  For  many  weeks  I  thought  of  poison,  and  then  of  drowning,  and  then 
of  fire.  A  fine  sight  the  grand  house  in  flames,  and  the  madman's 
wife  smouldering  away  to  cinders.  Think  of  the  jest  of  a  large  reward, 
too,  and  of  some  sane  man  swinging  in  the  wind  for  a  deed  he  never 
did,  and  ail  through  a  madman's  cunning  !  I  thought  often  of  this,  but 
I  gave  it  up  at  last.  Oh  !  the  pleasure  of  stropping  the  razor  day  after 
day,  feeling  the  sharp  edge,  and  thinking  of  the  gash  one  stroke  of  its 
thin  bright  point  would  make  ! 

"  At  last  the  old  spirits  who  had  been  with  me  so  often  before,  whis- 
pered in  my  ear  that  the  time  was  come,  and  thrust  the  open  razor  into 
my  hand.  I  grasped  it  firmly,  rose  softly  from  the  bed,  and  leaned 
over  my  sleeping  wife.  Her  face  was  buried  in  her  hands.  I  withdrew 
them  softly,  and  they  fell  listlessly  on  her  bosom.  She  had  been  weep- 
ing ;  for  the  traces  of  the  tears  were  still  wet  upon  her  cheek.  Her  face 
was  calm  and  placid  ;  and  even  as  I  looked  upon  it,  a  tranquil  smile  lighted 
up  her  pale  features.  I  laid  my  hand  softly  on  her  shoulder.  She 
started — it  was  only  a  passing  dream.  I  leant  forward  again.  She 
screamed,  and  woke. 

"  One  motion  of  my  hand,  and  she  would  never  again  have  uttered  cry 
or  sound.  But  I  was  startled,  and  drew  back.  Her  eyes  were  fixed 
on  mine.  I  know  not  how  it  was,  but  they  cowed  and  frightened  me  ; 
and  I  quailed  beneath  them.  She  rose  from  the  bed,  still  gazing  fixedly 
and  steadily  on  me.  I  trembled;  the  razor  was  in  my  hand,  but  I 
could  not  move.  She  made  towards  the  door.  As  she  neared  it,  she 
turned,  and  withdrew  her  eyes  from  my  face.  The  spell  was  broken. 
I  bounded  forward,  and  clutched  her  by  the  arm.  Uttering  shriek  upon 
shriek,  she  sunk  upon  the  ground. 

"  Now  I  could  have  killed  her  without  a  struggle  ;  but  the  house  was 
alarmed.  I  heard  the  tread  of  footsteps  on  the  stairs.  I  replaced  the 
razor  in  its  usual  drawer,  unfastened  the  door,  and  called  loudly  for 
assistance. 

"  They  came,  and  raised  her,  and  placed  her  on  the  bed.  She  lay 
l)ereft  of  animation  for  hours ;  and  when  life,  look,  and  speech  returned, 
her  senses  had  deserted  her,  and  she  raved  wildly  and  furiously. 


110  POSTHUMOUS    PAPKRS    OF 

"  Doctors  were  called  in — great  men  ^^llo  rolled  up  to  my  door  in  easy 
carnages,  with  fine  horses  and  gaudy  servants.  They  were  at  her  bed- 
side for  weeks.  They  had  a  great  meeting,  and  consulted  together  in 
low  and  solemn  voices  in  another  room.  One,  the  cleverest  and  most 
celebrated  among  them,  took  me  aside,  and  bidding  me  prepare  for  the 
worst,  told  me — me,  the  madman  I — that  my  wife  was  mad.  He  stood 
close  beside  me  at  an  open  window,  his  eyes  looking  in  my  face,  and  his 
hand  laid  upon  my  arm.  With  one  effort,  I  could  have  hurled  him 
into  the  street  beneath.  It  would  have  been  rare  sport  to  have  done 
it;  but  ray  secret  was  at  stake,  and  I  let  him  go.  A  few  days  after, 
they  told  me  I  must  place  her  under  some  restraint :  I  must  provide  a 
keeper  for  her.  //I  went  into  the  open  fields  where  none  could  hear 
me,  and  laughed  till  the  air  resounded  with  my  shouts ! 

"  She  died  next  day.  The  white-headed  old  man  followed  her  to  the 
grave,  and  the  proud  brothers  dropped  a  tear  over  the  insensible  corpse 
of  her,  whose  sufferings  they  had  regarded  in  her  life-time  with  muscles 
of  iron.  All  this  was  food  for  my  secret  mirth,  and  I  laughed  behind 
the  white  handkerchief  which  I  held  up  to  my  face,  as  we  rode  home, 
'till  the  tears  came  into  my  eyes. 

"  But  though  I  had  carried  my  object  and  killed  her,  I  was  restless 
and  disturbed,  and  I  felt  that  before  long,  my  secret  must  be  known. 
I  could  not  hide  the  wild  mirth  and  joy  which  boiled  within  me,  and 
made  me  when  I  was  alone,  at  home,  jump  up  and  beat  my  hands 
together,  and  dance  round  and  round,  and  roar  aloud.  When  I  went 
out,  and  saw  the  busy  crowds  hurrying  about  the  streets :  or  to  the 
theatre,  and  heard  the  sound  of  music,  and  beheld  the  people  dancing, 
I  felt  such  glee,  that  I  could  have  rushed  among  them,  and  torn  them 
to  pieces  limb  from  limb,  and  howled  in  transport.  But  I  ground  my 
teeth,  and  struck  my  feet  upon  the  floor,  and  drove  my  sharp  nails  into 
my  hands.     I  kept  it  down  ;  and  no  one  knew  I  was  a  madman  yet. 

"  I  remember — though  it's  one  of  the  last  things  I  can  remember  :  for 
now  I  mix  realities  with  my  dreams,  and  having  so  much  to  do,  and 
being  always  hurried  here,  have  no  time  to  separate  the  two,  from  some 
strange  confusion  in  which  they  get  involved — I  remember  how  I  let  it 
out  at  last.  Ha !  ha  !  I  think  I  see  their  frightened  looks  now,  and 
feel  the  ease  with  which  I  flung  them  from  me,  and  dashed  my  clenched 
fist  into  their  white  faces,  and  then  flew  like  the  wind,  and  left  them 
screaming  and  shouting  far  behind.  The  strength  of  a  giant  comes 
upon  me  when  I  think  of  it.  There — see  how  this  iron  bar  bends 
beneath  my  furious  wrench.  I  could  snap  it  like  a  twig,  only  there  are 
long  galleries  here  with  many  doors — I  don't  think  I  could  find  my  way 
along  them  :  and  even  if  I  could,  I  know  there  are  iron  gates  below 
which  they  keep  locked  and  barred.  They  know  what  a  clever  madman 
I  have  been,  and  they  are  proud  to  have  me  here,  to  show. 

''  Let  me  see ; — yes,  I  had  been  out.  It  was  late  at  night  when  I 
reached  home,  and  found  the  proudest  of  the  three  proud  brothers,  wait- 
ing to  see  me — urgent  business  he  said :  I  recollect  it  well.  1  hated 
that  man  with  all  a  madman's  hate.  Many  and  many  a  time  had  my 
fingers  longed  to  tear  him.     They  told  me  he  was  there.     I  ran  swiftly 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  HI 

lip  stairs.     He  had  a  word  to  say  to  me.    I  dismissed  tlie  servants.     It 
was  late,  and  we  i\ere  alone  together— ^/br  the  Jirst  time, 

*'  I  kept  v\y  eyes  carefully  from  him  at  first,  for  I  knew  what  he  little 
thought — and  I  gloried  in  the  knowledge — that  the  lig-ht  of  madness 
gleamed  from  them  like  fire.  We  sat  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes.  He 
spoke  at  last.  My  recent  dissipation,  and  strange  remarks,  made  so 
soon  after  his  sister's  death,  were  an  insult  to  her  memory.  Coupling 
together  many  circumstances  which  had  at  first  escaped  his  observa- 
tion, he  thought  I  had  not  treated  her  well.  He  wished  to  know 
whether  he  was  right  in  inferring  that  I  meant  to  cast  a  reproach  upon 
her  memory,  and  a  disrespect  upon  her  family.  It  was  due  to  the  uni- 
form he  wore,  to  demand  this  explanation. 

"  This  man  had  a  commission  in  the  army — a  commission,  purchased 
with  my  money,  and  his  sister's  misery.  This  was  the  man  who  had 
been  foremost  in  the  plot  to  ensnare  me,  and  grasp  my  wealth.  This 
was  the  man  who  had  been  the  main  instrument  in  forcing  his  sister  to 
wed  me ;  well  knowing  that  her  heart  was  given  to  that  puling  boy. 
Due  !  Due  to  his  uniform  I  The  livery  of  his  degradation  !  I  turned 
my  eyes  upon  him — I  could  not  help  it — but  I  spoke  not  a  word. 

"  I  saw  the  sudden  change  that  came  upon  him,  beneath  ray  gaze. 
He  was  a  bold  man,  but  the  colour  faded  from  his  face,  and  he  drew 
back  his  chair.  I  dragged  mine  nearer  to  him  ;  and  as  I  laughed — 
I  was  very  merry  then — I  saw  him  shudder.  I  felt  the  madness  rising 
within  me.     He  was  afraid  of  me. 

"  *  You  were  very  fond  of  your  sister  when  she  was  alive* — I  said — 
*  Very.' 

'*  He  looked  uneasily  round  him,  and  I  saw  his  hand  grasp  the  back 
of  his  chair :  but  he  said  nothing. 

"  *  You  villain,'  said  I,  *  I  found  you  out ;  I  discovered  your  hellish 
plots  against  me ;  I  know  her  heart  was  fixed  on  some  one  else  before 
you  compelled  her  to  marry  me.     I  know  it — I  know  it.' 

*'  He  jumped  suddenly  from  his  chair,  brandished  it  aloft,  and  bid  me 
stand  back — for  I  took  care  to  be  getting  closer  to  him,  all  the  time  I 
spoke. 

''  I  screamed  rather  than  talked,  for  I  felt  tumultuous  passions  eddying 
through  my  veins,  and  the  old  spirits  whispering  and  taunting  me  to 
tear  his  heart  out. 

"  *  Damn  you,'  said  I,  starting  up,  and  rushing  upon  him  ;  *  I  killed 
her.    I  am  a  madman.    Down  with  you.    Blood,  blood,  I  will  have  it.' 

"  I  turned  aside  with  one  blow,  the  chair  he  hurled  at  me  in  his  terror, 
and  closed  with  him ;  and  with  a  heavy  crash,  we  rolled  upon  the  floor 
together. 

"  It  was  a  fine  struggle  that,  for  he  was  a  tall  strongman,  fighting  for 
his  life ;  and  I,  a  powerful  madman,  thirsting  to  destroy  him.  I  knew 
no  strength  could  equal  mine,  and  I  was  right.  Right,  again,  though  a 
madman  I  His  struggles  grew  fainter.  I  knelt  upon  his  chest,  and 
clasped  his  brawny  throat,  firmly  with  both  hands.  His  face  grew 
purple ;  his  eyes  were  starting  from  his  head,  and  with  protruded 
tongue,  he  seemed  to  mock  me.     I  squeezed  the  tighter. 


112  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  The  door  was  suddenly  burst  open  with  a  loud  noise,  and  a  crowd 
of  people  rushed  forward,  crying  aloud  to  each  other,  to  secure  the 
madman. 

"  My  secret  was  out ;  and  my  only  struggle  now,  was  for  liberty  and 
freedom.  I  gained  my  feet  before  a  hand  was  on  me,  threw  myself 
among  my  assailants,  and  cleared  my  way  with  my  strong  arm  as  if  I 
bore  a  hatchet  in  my  hand,  and  hewed  them  down  before  me.  I  gained 
the  door,  dropped  over  the  banisters,  and  in  an  instant  was  in  the 
street. 

"  Straight  and  swift  I  ran,  and  no  one  dared  to  stop  me.  I  heard  the 
noise  of  feet  behind,  and  redoubled  my  speed.  It  grew  fainter  and 
fainter  in  the  distance,  and  at  length  died  away  altogether :  but  on  I 
bounded,  through  marsh  and  rivulet,  over  fence  and  wall,  with  a  wild 
shout  which  was  taken  up  by  the  strange  beings  that  flocked  around  me 
on  every  side,  and  swelled  the  sound,  till  it  pierced  the  air.  I  was  borne 
upon  the  arms  of  demons  who  swept  along  upon  the  wind,  and  bore 
down  bank  and  hedge  before  them,  and  spun  me  round  and  round  with 
a  rustle  and  a  speed  that  made  my  head  swim,  until  at  last  they  threw 
me  from  them  with  a  violent  shock,  and  I  fell  heavily  upon  the 
earth.  When  I  woke  I  found  myself  here — here  in  this  gay  cell  where 
the  sun-light  seldom  comes,  and  the  moon  steals  in,  in  rays  which  only 
serve  to  show  the  dark  shadows  about  me,  and  that  silent  figure  in  its 
old  corner.  When  I  lie  awake,  I  can  sometimes  hear  strange  shrieks 
and  cries  from  distant  parts  of  this  large  place.  What  they  are,  I  know 
not ;  but  they  neither  come  from  that  pale  form,  nor  does  it  regard 
them.  For  from  the  first  shades  of  dusk  'till  the  earliest  light  of  morn- 
ing, it  still  stands  motionless  in  the  same  place,  listening  to  the  music 
of  my  iron  chain,  and  watching  my  gambols  on  my  straw  bed." 

At  the  end  of  the  manuscript,  was  written,  in  another  hand,  this 
note : — 

[The  unhappy  man  whose  ravings  are  recorded  above,  was  a  melan- 
choly instance  of  the  baneful  results  of  energies  misdirected  in  early 
life,  and  excesses  prolonged  until  their  consequences  could  never  be 
repaired.  The  thoughtless  riot,  dissipation,  and  debauchery  of  his 
younger  days,  produced  fever  and  delirium.  The  first  effects  of  the 
latter,  was  the  strange  delusion,  founded  upon  a  well-known  medical 
theory,  strongly  contended  for  by  some,  and  as  strongly  contested  by 
others,  that  an  hereditary  madness  existed  in  his  family.  This  produced 
a  settled  gloom,  which  in  time  developed  a  morbid  insanity,  and  finally 
terminated  in  raving  madness.  There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that 
the  events  he  detailed,  though  distorted  in  the  description  by  his 
diseased  imagination,  really  happened.  It  is  only  matter  of  wonder  to 
those  who  were  acquainted  with  the  vices  of  his  early  career,  that  his 
passions,  when  no  longer  controulled  by  reason,  did  not  lead  him  to 
the  commission  of  still  more  frightful  deeds.] 

Mr.  Pickwick's  candle  was  just  expiring  in  the  socket,  as  he  con- 
cluded the  perusal  of  the  old  clergyman's  manuscript ;  and  when  the 
light  went  suddenly  out,  without  any  previous  flicker  by  way  of  warning, 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  113 

it  communicated  a  very  considerable  start  to  his  excited  frame.  Hastily 
throwing  off  such  articles  of  clothings  as  he  had  put  on  when  he  rose 
from  his  uneasy  bed,  and  casting-  a  fearful  glance  around,  he  once  more 
scrambled  hastily  between  the  sheets,  and  soon  fell  fast  asleep. 

The  sun  was  shining  brilliantly  into  his  chamber  when  he  awoke, 
and  the  morning  was  far  advanced.  The  gloom  which  had  oppressed 
him  on  the  previous  night,  had  disappeared  with  the  dark  shadows 
which  shrouded  the  landscape,  and  his  thoughts  and  feelings  were  as 
light  and  gay  as  the  morning  itself.  After  a  hearty  breakfast,  the 
four  gentlemen  sallied  forth  to  walk  to  Gravesend,  followed  by  a  man 
bearing  the  stone  in  its  deal  box.  They  reached  that  town  about  one 
o'clock,  (their  luggage  they  had  directed  to  be  forwarded  to  the  City, 
from  Rochester,)  and  being  fortunate  enough  to  secure  places  on  the 
outside  of  a  coach,  arrived  in  London  in  sound  health  and  spirits,  on 
that  same  afternoon. 

The  next  three  or  four  days  were  occupied  with  the  preparations 
which  were  necessary  for  their  journey  to  the  borough  of  Eatanswill. 
As  any  reference  to  that  most  important  undertaking  demands  a  sepa- 
rate chapter,  we  may  devote  the  few  lines  which  remain  at  the  close  of 
this,  to  narrate,  with  great  brevity,  the  history  of  the  antiquarian  dis- 
covery. 

It  appears  from  the  Transactions  of  the  Club,  then,  that  Mr.  Pick- 
wick lectured  upon  the  discovery  at  a  General  Club  Meeting,  convened 
on  the  night  succeeding  their  return,  and  entered  into  a  variety  of 
ingenious  and  erudite  speculations  on  the  meaning  of  the  inscription. 
It  also  appears  that  a  skilful  artist  executed  a  faithful  delineation  of  the 
curiosity,  which  was  engraven  on  stone,  and  presented  to  the  Royal 
Antiquarian  Society,  and  other  learned  bodies — that  heart-burnings  and 
jealousies  without  number,  were  created  by  rival  controversies  which 
were  penned  upon  the  subject — and  that  Mr.  Pickwick  himself  wrote  a 
Pamphlet,  containing  ninety-six  pages  of  very  small  print,  and  twenty- 
seven  different  readings  of  the  inscription.  That  three  old  gentlemen 
cut  off  their  eldest  sons  with  a  shilling  a- piece  for  presuming  to  doubt 
the  antiquity  of  the  fragment — and  that  one  enthusiastic  individual  cut 
himself  off  prematurely,  in  despair  at  being  unable  to  fathom  its 
meaning.  That  Mr.  Pickwick  was  elected  an  honorary  member  of 
seventeen  native  and  foreign  societies,  for  making  the  discovery ;  that 
none  of  the  seventeen  could  ibake  anything  of  it,  but  that  all  the 
seventeen  agreed  it  was  very  extraordinary. 

Mr.  Blotton,  indeed — and  the  name  will  be  doomed  to  the  undying 
contempt  of  those  who  cultivate  the  mysterious  and  the  sublime — Mr. 
BlottDn,  we  say,  with  the  doubt  and  cavilling  peculiar  to  vulgar  minds, 
presumed  to  state  a  view  of  the  case,  as  degrading  as  ridiculous.  Mr. 
Blotton,  with  a  mean  desire  to  tarnish  the  lustre  of  the  immortal  name 
of  Pickwick,  actually  undertook  a  journey  to  Cobham  in  person,  and 
on  his  return,  sarcastically  observed  in  an  oration  at  the  club,  that  he 
had  seen  the  man  from  whom  the  stone  was  purchased  ;  that  the  man 
presumed  the  stone  to  be  ancient,  but  solemnly  denied  the  antiquity 
of  the  inscription — inasmuch  as  he  represented  it  to  have  beeu  rudely 


114 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


carved  by  himself  in  an  idle  mood,  and  to  display  letters  intended  to 
bear  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  simple  construction  of—"  Bill 
Stumps,  his  mark  :"  and  that  Mr.  Stumps,  being  little  in  the  habit  of 
original  composition,  and  more  accustomed  to  be  guided  by  the  sound 
of  words  than  by  the  strict  rules  of  orthography,  had  omitted  the  con- 
cluding "  L  "  of  his  christian  name. 

The  Pickwick  Club,  as  might  have  been  expected  from  so  enlight- 
ened an  Institution,  received  this  statement  with  the  contempt  it 
deserved,  expelled  the  presumptuous  and  ill-conditioned  Blotton  from 
the  society,  and  voted  Mr.  Pickwick  a  pair  of  gold  spectacles,  in 
token  of  their  confidence  and  approbation ;  in  return  for  which,  Mr. 
Pickwick  caused  a  portrait  of  himself  to  be  painted,  and  hung  up  in 
the  club-room — which  portrait,  by  the  by,  he  did  not  wish  to  have 
destroyed  when  he  grew  a  few  years  older. 

Mr.  Blotton  was  ejected  but  not  conquered.  He  also  wrote  a 
pamphlet,  addressed  to  the  seventeen  learned  societies,  containing  a 
repetition  of  the  statement  he  had  already  made,  and  rather  more  than 
half  intimating  his  opinion  that  the  seventeen  learned  societies  afore- 
said, were  so  many  "  humbugs."  Hereupon  the  virtuous  indignation 
of  the  seventeen  learned  societies  being  roused,  several  fresh  pamphlets 
appeared ;  the  foreign  learned  societies  corresponded  with  the  native 
learned  societies,  the  native  learned  societies  translated  the  pamphlets 
of  the  foreign  learned  societies  into  English,  the  foreign  learned 
societies  translated  the  pamphlets  of  the  native  learned  societies  into 
all  sorts  of  languages :  and  thus  commenced  that  celebrated  scientific 
discussion  so  well  known  to  all  men,  as  the  Pickwick  controversy. 

But  this  base  attempt  to  injure  Mr.  Pickwick,  recoiled  upon  the  head 
of  its  calumnious  author.  The  seventeen  learned  societies  unanimously 
voted  the  presumptuous  Blotton  an  ignorant  meddler ;  and  forthwith 
*et  to  work  upon  more  treatises  than  ever.  And  to  this  day  the  stone 
remains  an  illegible  monument  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  greatness,  and  a  lasting 
trophy  of  the  littleness  of  his  enemies. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  115 


CHAPTER  XII. 

DESCRIPTIVE  OF  A  VERY  IMPORTANT  PROCEEDING  ON  THE  PART 
OF  MR.  PICKWICK;  NO  LESS  AN  EPOCH  IN  HIS  LIFE,  THAN  IN 
THIS    HISTORY. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  apartments  in  Goswell  Street,  although  on  a 
limited  scale,  were  not  only  of  a  very  neat  and  comfortable  description, 
but  peculiarly  adapted  for  the  residence  of  a  man  of  his  genius  and 
observation.  His  sitting-room  was  the  first  floor  front,  his  bed-room 
the  second  floor  front;  and  thus,  whether  he  were  sitting  at  his  desk  in 
the  parlour,  or  standing  before  the  dressing-glass  in  his  dormitory,  he 
had  an  equal  opportunity  of  contemplating  human  nature  in  all  the 
numerous  phases  it  exhibits,  in  that  not  more  populous  than  popular 
thoroughfare.  His  landlady,  Mrs.  Bardell — the  relict  and  sole  executrix 
of  a  deceased  custom-house  officer — was  a  comely  woman  of  bustling 
manners  and  agreeable  appearance,  with  a  natural  genius  for  cooking, 
improved  by  study  and  long  practice  into  an  exquisite  talent.  There 
were  no  children,  no  servants,  no  fowls.  The  only  other  inmates  of  the 
house  were  a  large  man,  and  a  small  boy ;  the  first  a  lodger,  the  second 
a  production  of  Mrs.  Bardell's.  The  large  man  was  always  home  pre- 
cisely at  ten  o'clock  at  night,  at  which  hour  he  regularly  condensed 
himself  into  the  limits  of  a  dwarfish  French  bedstead  in  the  back  par- 
lour; and  the  infantine  sports  and  gymnastic  exercises  of  Master 
Bardell  were  exclusively  confined  to  the  neighbouring  pavements  and 
gutters.  Cleanliness  and  quiet  reigned  throughout  the  house  ;  and  in  it 
Mr.  Pickwick's  will  was  law. 

To  any  one  acquainted  with  these  points  of  the  domestic  economy  of 
the  establishment,  and  conversant  with  the  admirable  regulation  of  Mr. 
Pickwick's  mind,  his  appearance  and  behaviour  on  the  morning  previous 
to  that  which  had  been  fixed  upon  for  the  journey  to  Eatanswill,  would 
have  been  most  mysterious  and  unaccountable.  He  paced  the  room  to 
and  fro  with  hurried  steps,  popped  his  head  out  of  the  window  at 
intervals  of  about  three  minutes  each,  constantly  referred  to  his  watch, 
and  exhibit-ed  many  other  manifestations  of  impatience,  very  unusual 
with  him.  It  was  evident  that  something  of  great  importance  was  in 
contemplation,  but  what  that  something  was  not  even  Mrs.  Bardell 
herself  had  beeu  enabled  to  discover. 

"  Mrs.  Bardell,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  at  last,  as  that  amiable  female 
approached  the  termination  of  a  prolonged  dusting  of  the  apartment — 

"  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  Your  little  boy  is  a  very  long  time  gone." 

*'  Why  it's  a  good  long  way  to  the  Borough,  Sir,"  remonstrated  Mrs. 
Ikrdell. 

M 


116  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Ah,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  very  true ;  so  it  is." 

Mr.  Pickwick  relapsed  into  silence,  and  Mrs.  Bardell  resumed  her 
dusting-. 

"  Mrs.  Bardell,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  at  the  expira^^ion  of  a  few 
minutes. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell  again. 

"  Do  you  think  it's  a  much  greater  expense  to  keep  two  people, 
than  to  keep  one  ?  " 

"  La,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  colouring  up  to  the  very 
border  of  her  cap,  as  she  fancied  she  observed  a  species  of  matrimo- 
nial twinkle  in  the  eyes  of  her  lodger ;  "  La,  Mr.  Pickwick,  what  a 
question  ! " 

"  Well,  but  do  you  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  That  depends — "  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  approaching  the  duster  very 
near  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  elbow,  which  was  planted  on  the  table ;  "  that 
depends  a  good  deal  upon  the  person,  you  know,  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  and 
whether  it's  a  saving  and  careful  person.  Sir." 

"  That's  very  true,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  but  the  person  I  have  in 
my  eye  (here  he  looked  very  hard  at  Mrs.  Bardell)  I  think  possesses 
these  qualities ;  and  has,  moreover,  a  considerable  knowledge  of  the 
world,  and  a  great  deal  of  sharpness,  Mrs.  Bardell ;  which  may  be  of 
material  use  to  me." 

"  La,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell ;  the  crimson  rising  to  her 
cap-border  again. 

"  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  growing  energetic,  as  was  his  wont  in 
speaking  of  a  subject  which  interested  him,  "  I  do,  indeed ;  and  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  Mrs.  Bardell,  I  have  made  up  my  mind." 

"  Dear  me,  Sir,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  You'll  think  it  very  strange  now,"  said  the  amiable  Mr.  Pickwick, 
with  a  good-humoured  glance  at  his  companion,  "  that  I  never  consulted 
you  about  this  matter,  and  never  even  mentioned  it,  till  I  sent  your 
little  boy  out  this  morning — eh  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bardell  could  only  reply  by  a  look.  She  had  long  worshipped 
Mr.  Pickwick  at  a  distance,  but  here  she  was,  all  at  once,  raised  to  a 
pinnacle  to  which  her  wildest  and  most  extravagant  hopes  had  never 
dared  to  aspire.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  going  to  propose — a  deliberate 
plan,  too — sent  her  little  boy  to  the  Borough,  to  get  him  out  of  the 
way — how  thoughtful — how  considerate  I 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  what  do  you  think  ?  *' 

«  Oh,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  trembling  with  agitation, 
'•  you're  very  kind.  Sir." 

"  It'll  save  you  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  won't  it  ?  **  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Oh,  I  never  thought  anything  of  the  trouble.  Sir,"  replied  Mrs.      | 
Bardell ;  "  and,  of  course,  I  should  take  more  trouble  to  please  you  then, 
than  ever;  but  it  is  so  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Pickwick,  to  have  so  much 
consideration  for  my  loneliness." 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  *'  I  never  thought  of  that. 
When  I  am  in  town,  you'll  always  have  somebody  to  sit  with  you.     Taj 
be  sure,  so  you  will." 


'* 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  1 17 

"  I  'm  sure  I  ought  to  be  a  very  happy  woman,"  said  Mrs.  Bardeli, 

"  And  your  little  boy — "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Bless  his  heart,"  interposed  Mrs.  Bardeli,  with  a  maternal  sob. 

"  He,  too,  will  have  a  companion,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  *'a  lively 
one,  who'll  teach  him,  I'll  be  bound,  more  tricks  in  a  week,  than  he 
would  ever  learn  in  a  year."     And  Mr.  Pickwick  smiled  placidly. 

"  Oh  you  dear — "  said  Mrs.  Bardeli. 

Mr.  Pickwict  started. 

"  Oh  you  kind,  good,  playful  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Bardeli ;  and  without 
more  ado,  she  rose  from  her  chair,  and  flung  her  arms  round  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's  neck,  with  a  cataract  of  tears,  and  a  chorus  of  sobs. 

*'  Bless  my  soul,"  cried  the  astonished  Mr.  Pickwick  ; — "  Mrs.  Bardeli 
my  good  woman — dear  me,  what  a  situation — pray  consider. — Mrs. 
Bardeli,  don't — if  anybody  should  come — " 

"  Oh,  let  them  come,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bardeli,  frantically  ;  *'  I'll 
never  leave  you— rdear,  kind,  good,  soul ;"  and,  with  these  words,  Mrs. 
Bardeli  clung  the  tighter. 

"  Mercy  upon  me,*'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  struggling  violently,  "  I  hear 
somebody  coming  up  the  stairs.  Don't,,  don't,  there's  a  good  creature, 
don't."  But  entreaty  and  remonstrance  were  alike  unavailing :  for  Mrs. 
Bardeli  had  fainted  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  arms ;  and  before  he  could  gain 
time  to  deposit  her  on  a  chair.  Master  Bardeli  entered  the  room,  ushering 
in  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  struck  motionless  and  speechless.  He  stood  with 
his  lovely  burden  in  his  arms,  gazing  vacantly  on  the  countenances  of 
his  friends,  without  the  slighest  attempt  at  recognition  or  explanation. 
They,  in  their  turn,  stared  at  him ;  and  Master  Bardeli,  in  his  turn, 
stared  at  everybody. 

The  astonishment  of  the  Pickwickians  was  so  absorbing,  and  the  per- 
plexity of  Mr.  Pickwick  was  so  extreme,  that  they  might  have  remained 
in  exactly  the  same  relative  situations  until  the  suspended  animation  of 
the  lady  was  restored,  had  it  not  been  for  a  most  beautiful  and  touching 
expression  of  filial  affection  on  the  part  of  her  youthful  son.  Clad  in  a 
tight  suit  of  corderoy,  spangled  with  brass  buttons  of  a  very  considerable 
size,  he  at  first  stood  at  the  door  astounded  and  uncertain ;  but  by 
degrees,  the  impression  that  his  mother  must  have  suffered  some  per- 
sonal damage,  pervaded  his  partially  developed  mind,  and  considering 
Mr.  Pickwick  as  the  aggressor,  he  set  up  an  appalling  and  semi-earthly 
kind  of  howling,  and  butting  forward  with  his  head,  commenced  assailing 
that  immortal  gentleman  about  the  back  and  legs,  with  such  blows  and 
pinches  as  the  strength  of  his  arm,  and  the  violence  of  his  excitement, 
allowed. 

"  Take  this  little  villain  away,"  said  the  agonised  Mr.  Pickwick, 
«  he's  mad." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  said  the  three  tongue-tied  Pickwickians. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  pettishly.  "  Take  away  the 
boy — (here  Mr.  Winkle  carried  the  interesting  boy,  screaming  and 
struggling,  to  the  further  end  of  the  apartment). — Now  help  me,  lead 
this  woman  down  stairs." 

M  2 


I 


118  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Oh,  I  am  better  now,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  faintly. 

"  Let  me  lead  you  down  stairs/'  said  the  ever  gallant  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Thank  you,  Sir — thank  you  ; "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bardell,  hysterically 
And  down  stairs  she  was  led  accordingly,  accompanied  by  her  aifectJonate 
son. 

"  I  cannot  conceive — "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  his  friend  returned 
— "  I  cannot  conceive  what  has  been  the  matter  with  that  woman.  I 
had  merely  announced  to  her  my  intention  of  keeping-  a  man  servant, 
when  she  fell  into  the  extraordinary  paroxysm  in  which  you  found  her. 
Very  extraordinary  thing." 

ii  Very,"  said  his  three  friends. 

**  Placed  me  in  such  an  extremely  awkward  situation,"  continued 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Very ; "  was  the  reply  of  his  followers,  as  they  coughed  slightly, 
and  looked  dubiously  at  each  other. 

This  behaviour  was  not  lost  upon  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  remarked  their 
incredulity.     They  evidently  suspected  him. 

"  There  is  a  man  in  the  passage  now,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  It's  the  man  I  spoke  to  you  about,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ^'  I  sent  for 
him  to  the  Borough  this  morning.  Have  the  goodness  to  call  him  up, 
Snodgrass." 

Mr.  Snodgrass  did  as  he  was  desired ;  and  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  forth- 
with presented  himself. 

*'  Oh — you  remember  me,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  should  think  so,"  replied  Sam,  with  a  patronising  wink.  "  Queer 
start  that  *ere,  but  he  was  one  too  many  for  you,  warn't  he  ?  Up  to 
$nuff  and  a  pinch  or  two  over — eh?  " 

"  Never  mind  that  matter  now,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  hastily,  "  I  want 
to  speak  to  you  about  something  else.     Sit  down." 

*'  Thank'ee,  Sir,"  said  Sam.  And  down  he  sat  without  farther  bid- 
dmg,  having  previously  deposited  his  old  white  hat  on  the  landing 
outside  the  door.  "  Ta'nt  a  werry  good  'un  to  look  at,"  said  Sam, 
"  but  it's  an  astonishin'  'un  to  wear ;  and  afore  the  brim  went,  it  was  a 
wery  handsome  tile.  Hows'ever  it's  lighter  without  it,  that's  one  thing, 
and  every  hole  lets  in  some  air,  that's  another — wentilation  gossamer  I 
calls  it."  On  the  delivery  of  this  sentiment,  Mr.  Weller  smiled 
agreeably  upon  the  assembled  Pickwickians. 

"  Now  with  regard  to  the  matter  on  which  I,  with  the  concurrence  of 
these  gentlemen,  sent  for  you,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  That's  the  pint,  Sir,"  interposed  Sam ;  "  out  vith  it,  as  the  father 
said  to  the  child,  ven  he  swallowed  a  farden." 

"  We  want  to  know,  in  the  first  place,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "whether 
you  have  any  reason  to  be  discontented  with  your  present  situation." 

"  Afore  I  answers  that  'ere  question,  gen'l'm'n,"  replied  Mr.  Weller, 
'•  /should  Hke  to  know,  in  the  first  place,  whether  you're  a  goin'  to 
purwide  me  vith  a  better." 

A  sunbeam  of  placid  benevolence  played  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  features 
as  he  said,  "  I  have  half  made  up  my  mind  to  engage  you  myself." 

"  Have  you,  though  ?  "  said  Sam. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  119 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  in  the  aflirmative. 

"  Wages  ?  "  inquired  Sam. 

'*  Twelve  pounds  a  year,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Clothes  ?  " 

"  Two  suits." 

"  Work?" 

''  To  attend  upon  me  ;  and  travel  about  with  me  and  these  gentlemen 
here."    " 

"  Take  the  bill  down,"  said  Sam,  emphatically.  *•  Pm  let  to  a  single 
gentleman,  and  the  terms  is  agreed  upon." 

"  You  accept  the  situation  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Cert'nly,"  rephed  Sam.  "  If  the  clothes  tits  me  half  as  well  as  the 
place,  they'll  do." 

"  You  can  get  a  character  of  course  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Ask  the  landlady  o'  the  White  Hart  about  that,  Sir,"  replied  Sara. 

"  Can  you  come  this  evening  ?  " 

"  Pll  get  into  the  clothes  this  minute,  if  they're  here,"  said  Sam  with 
great  alacrity. 

"  Call  at  eight  this  evening,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  and  if  the  inquiries 
are  satisfactory,  they  shall  be  provided." 

With  the  single  exception  of  one  amiable  indiscretion,  in  which  an 
assistant  housemaid  had  equally  participated,  the  history  of  Mr.  W^eller's 
conduct  was  so  very  blameless,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  felt  fully  justified  in 
closing  the  engagement  that  very  evening.  With  the  promptness  and 
energy  which  characterised  not  only  the  public  proceedings,  but  all  the 
private  actions  of  this  extraordinary  man,  he  at  once  led  his  new 
attendant  to  one  of  those  convenient  emporiums  where  gentlemen's 
new  and  second-hand  clothes  are  provided,  and  the  troublesome  and 
inconvenient  formality  of  measurement  dispensed  with ;  and  before 
night  had  closed  in,  Mr.  Weller  was  furnished  with  a  grey  coat  with  the 
*  p.  c'  button,  a  black  hat  with  a  cockade  to  it,  a  pink  striped  waistcoat, 
light  breeches  and  gaiters,  and  a  variety  of  other  necessaries,  too 
numerous  to  recapitulate. 

"  Well,"  said  that  suddenly-transformed  individual,  as  he  took  his  seat 
on  the  outside  of  the  Eatanswill  coach  next  morning  ;  "  I  wonder 
vether  Pm  meant  to  be  a  footman,  or  a  groom,  or  a  game-keeper,  or  a 
seedsman.  I  looks  like  a  sort  of  compo  of  every  one  on  'em.  Never 
mind ;  there's  change  of  air,  plenty  to  see,  and  little  to  do  ;  and  all  this 
suits  my  complaint  uncommon,  so  long  life  to  the  Pickvicks,  says  I." 


120  vosTnuMous  i'apkks  of 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

KOME  ACCOUNT  OF  EATANSWILL  ;  OF  THE  STATE  OF  PARTIES 
THEREIN  ;  AND  OF  THE  ELECTION  OF  A  MEMBER  TO  SERVE  IN 
PARLIAMENT  FOR  THAT  ANCIENT,  LOYAL,  AND  PATRIOTIC 
BOROUGH. 

We  will  frankly  acknowledge,  that  up  to  the  period  of  our  being  first 
immersed  in  the  voluminous  papers  of  the  Pickwick  club,  we  had  never 
heard  of  Eatanswill ;  we  will  with  equal  candour  admit,  that  we  have  in 
vain  searched  for  proof  of  the  actual  existence  of  such  a  place  at  the 
present  day.  Knowing  the  deep  reliance  to  be  placed  on  every  note  and 
statement  of  Mr.  Pickwick's,  and  not  presuming  to  set  up  our  recollec- 
tion against  the  recorded  declarations  of  that  great  man,  we  have 
consulted  every  authority,  bearing  upon  the  subject,  to  which  we  could 
possibly  refer.  We  have  traced  every  name  in  schedules  A  and  B, 
without  meeting  with  that  of  Eatanswill ;  we  have  minutely  examined 
every  corner  of  the  Pocket  County  Maps  issued  for  the  benefit  of 
society  by  our  distinguished  publishers,  and  the  same  result  has 
attended  our  investigation.  We  are  therefore  led  to  believe,  that  Mr. 
Pickwick,  with  that  anxious  desire  to  abstain  from  giving  offence  to  any, 
and  with  those  delicate  feelings  for  which  all  who  knew  him  well  know 
he  was  so  eminently  remarkable,  purposely  substituted  a  fictitious  desig- 
nation, for  the  real  name  of  the  place  in  which  his  observations  were 
made.  We  are  confirmed  in  this  belief  by  a  little  circumstance,  appa- 
rently slight  and  trivial  in  itself,  but  when  considered  in  this  point  of 
view,  not  undeserving  of  notice.  In  Mr.  Pickwick's  note-book,  we  can 
just  trace  an  entry  of  the  fact,  that  the  places  of  himself  and  followers 
were  booked  by  the  Norwich  coach ;  but  this  entry  was  afterwards  lined 
through,  as  if  for  the  purpose  of  concealing  even  the  direction  in  which 
the  borough  is  situated.  We  will  not,  therefore,  hazard  a  guess  upon 
the  subject,  but  will  at  once  proceed  with  this  history ;  content  with  the 
materials  which  its  characters  have  provided  for  us. 

It  appears,  then,  that  the  Eatanswill  people,  like  the  people  of  many 
other  small  towns,  considered  themselves  of  the  utmost  and  most  mighty 
importance,  and  that  every  man  in  Eatanswill,  conscious  of  the  weight 
that  attached  to  his  example,  felt  himself  bound  to  unite,  heart  and  soul, 
with  one  of  the  two  great  parties  that  divided  the  town — the  Blues  and 
the  Buffs.  Now  the  Blues  lost  no  opportunity  of  opposing  the  Buffs, 
and  the  Buffs  lost  no  opportunity  of  opposing  the  Blues  ;  and  the  con- 
sequence was,  that  whenever  the  Buffs  and  Blues  met  together  at  pubhc 
meeting,  Town- Hall,  fair,  or  market,  disputes  and  high  words  arose 
between  them.  With  these  dissensions  it  is  almost  superfluous  to  say 
that  every  thing  in  Eatanswill  was  made  a  party-question.  If  the  Buffs 
proposed  to  new  skylight  the  market-place,  the   Blues  got  up  public 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  1:21 

meetings,  and  denounced  the  proceeding;  if  the  Blues  proposed  the 
erection  of  an  additional  pump  in  the  High  Street,  the  Buffs  rose  as  one 
man  and  stood  aghast  at  the  enormity.  There  were  Blue  shops  and 
Buff  shops,  Blue  inns  and  Buff  inns  ; — there  was  a  Blue  aisle  and  a  Buff 
aisle,  in  the  very  church  itself. 

Of  course  it  was  essentially  and  indispensably  necessary  that  each  of 
these  powerful  parties  should  have  its  chosen  organ  and  representative : 
and,  accordingly,  there  were  two  newspapers  in  the  town — the  Eatan- 
swill  Gazette  and  the  Eatanswill  Independent ;  the  former  advocating 
Blue  principles,  and  the  latter  conducted  on  grounds  decidedly  Buff. 
Fine  newspapers  they  were.  Such  leading  articles,  and  such  spirited 
attacks  ! — "  Our  worthless  contemporary  the  Gazette  " — "  That  dis- 
graceful and  dastardly  journal,  the  Independent " — "  That  false  and 
scurrilous  print,  the  Independent  " — "  That  vile  and  slanderous  calum- 
niator, the  Gazette  ;  " — these,  and  other  spirijt-stirring  denunciations 
were  strewn  plentifully  over  the  columns  of  each,  in  every  number, 
and  excited  feelings  of  the  most  intense  delight  and  indignation  in 
the  bosoms  of  the  townspeople. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  with  his  usual  foresight  and  sagacity,  had  chosen  a 
peculiarly  desirable  moment  for  his  visit  to  the  borough.  Never  was 
such  a  contest  known.  The  Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey 
Hall,  was  the  Blue  candidate ;  and  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esq.,  of  Fizkin 
Lodge,  near  Eatanswill,  had  been  prevailed  upon  by  his  friends  to  stand 
forward  on  the  Buff  interest.  The  Gazette  warned  the  electors  of 
Eatanswill  that  the  eyes  not  only  of  England,  but  of  the  whole  civilised 
world,  were  upon  them  ;  and  the  Independent  imperatively  demanded  to 
know,  whether  the  constituency  of  Eatanswill  were  the  grand  fellows 
they  had  always  taken  them  for,  c  base  and  servile  tools,  undeserving 
alike  of  the  name  of  Englishmen  and  the  blessings  of  freedom.  Never 
had  such  a  commotion  agitated  the  town  before. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  companions, 
assisted  by  Sam,  dismounted  from  the  roof  of  the  Eatanswill  coach. 
Large  blue  silk  flags  were  flying  from  the  windows  of  the  Town  Arms 
Inn,  and  bills  were  posted  in  every  sash,  intimating,  in  gigantic  letters, 
that  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey 's  Committee  sat  there  daily.  A 
crowd  of  idlers  were  assembled  in  the  road,  looking  at  a  hoarse  man 
in  the  balcony,  who  was  apparently  talking  himself  very  red  in  the 
face  in  Mr.  Slumkey's  behalf;  but  the  force  and  point  of  whose  argu- 
ments were  somewhat  impaired  by  the  perpetual  beating  of  four  large 
drums  which  Mr.  Fizkin's  committee  had  stationed  at  the  street  corner. 
There  was  a  busy  little  man  beside  him,  though,  who  took  off  his  hat  at 
intervals  and  motioned  to  the  people  to  cheer,  which  they  regularly  did, 
most  enthusiastically ;  and  as  the  red-faced  gentleman  went  on  talking 
till  he  was  redder  in  the  face  than  ever,  it  seemed  to  answer  his  purpose 
quite  as  well  as  if  anybody  had  heard  him. 

The  Pickwickians  had  no  sooner  dismounted,  than  they  were  sur- 
rounded by  a  branch  mob  of  the  honest  and  independent,  who  forthwith 
set  up  three  deafening  cheers,  which  being  responded  to  by  the  main 
body  (for  it's  not  at  all  necessary  for  a  crowd  to  know  what  they  are 


122  posTHi;.\:cus  papers  of 

cheering-  about)   swelled  into  a    tremendous   roar   of  triumph,  which 
stopped  even  the  red-faced  man  in  the  balcony. 

"  Hurrah  I  "  shouted  the  mob  in  conclusion. 

**  One  cheer  more,"  screamed  the  little  fugleman  in  the  balcony  ; 
and  out  shouted  the  mob  ag-ain,  as  if  lungs  were  cast  iron,  with  steel 
works. 

"  Slumkey  for  ever  I  "  roared  the  honest  and  independent. 

"  Slumkey  for  ever !"  echoed  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  off  his  hat. 

"  No  Fizkin,"  roared  the  crowd. 

"  Certainly  not,"  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Hurrah  ! "  And  then  there  was  another  roaring,  like  that  of  a 
whole  menag-erie  when  the  elephant  has  rung  the  bell  for  the  cold  meat. 

"  Who  is  Slumkey?  "  whispered  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  I  don't  know,"  rephed  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  same  tone.  ^'  Hush. 
Don't  ask  any  questions.  It's  always  best  on  these  occasions  to  do 
what  the  mob  do." 

"  But  suppose  there  are  two  mobs  ?  "  suggested  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

*^  Shout  with  the  largest,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Volumes  could  not  have  said  more. 

They  entered  the  house,  the  crowd  opening  right  and  left  to  let  them 
pass,  and  cheering  vociferously.  The  first  object  of  consideration  was  to 
secure  quarters  for  the  night. 

"  Can  we  have  beds  here  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  summoning  the 
waiter. 

**^  Don't  know,  Sir/'  replied  the  man ;  "  afraid  we're  full,  Sir — I'll 
inquire,  sir."  Away  he  went  for  that  purpose,  and  presently  returned, 
to  ask  whether  the  gentlemen  were  "  Blue." 

As  neither  Mr.  Pickwick  nor  his  companions  took  any  vital  interest 
in  the  cause  of  either  candidate,  the  question  was  rather  a  difficult  one 
to  answer.  In  this  dilemma  Mr.  Pickwick  bethought  himself  of  his  new 
friend,  Mr.  Perker. 

"  Do  you  know  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Perker  ?  "  inq^uired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Certainly,  Sir ;  honourable  Mr.  Samuel  Slumkey 's  agent." 

"  He  is  Blue,  I  think  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes.  Sir." 

"  Then  we  are  Blue,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  but  observing  that  the 
man  looked  rather  doubtful  at  this  accommodating  announcement,  he 
gave  him  his  card,  and  desired  him  to  present  it  to  Mr.  Perker  forth- 
with, if  he  should  happen  to  be  in  the  house.  The  waiter  retired  ;  and  re- 
appearing almost  immediately  with  a  request  that  Mr.  Pickwick  would 
follow  him,  led  the  way  to  a  large  room  on  the  first  floor,  where,  seated 
at  a  long  table  covered  with  books  and  papers,  was  Mr.  Perker. 

"  Ah — ah  my  dear  Sir,"  said  the  little  man,  advancing  to  meet  him ; 
"  very  happy  to  see  you,  my  dear  Sir,  very.  Pray  sit  down.  So  you 
have  carried  your  intention  into  effect.  You  have  come  down  here  to 
see  an  election — eh  ?" 

Mr.  Pickwick  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Spirited  contest,  my  dear  Sir/'  said  the  little  man. 


THE    PICKV/ICK    CLUB.  123 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rubbing  his  hands 
*'  I  like  to  see  sturdy  patriotism,  on  whatever  side  it  is  called  forth ; — 
and  so  it's  a  spirited  contest  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  the  little  man,  "  very  much  so  indeed.  We  have 
opened  all  the  public  houses  in  the  place,  and  left  our  adversary  nothing 
but  the  beer-shops — masterly  stroke  of  policy  that,  my  dear  Sir,  eh  ?  " 
— and  the  little  man  smiled  complacently,  and  took  a  large  pinch  of 
snuff. 

"  And  what  are  the  probabilities  as  to  the  result  of  the  contest  ?  ' 
inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Why  doubtful,  my  dear  Sir ;  rather  doubtful  as  yet,"  replied  the 
little  man.  "  Fizkin's  people  have  got  three-and-thirty  voters  in  the 
lock-up  coach-house  at  the  White  Hart." 

"  In  the  coach-house  ! "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  considerably  astonished 
by  this  second  stroke  of  policy. 

"  They  keep  'em  locked  up  there,  till  they  want  'em,"  resumed  the 
little  man.  "  The  effect  of  that  is,  you  see,  to  prevent  our  getting  at 
them  ;  and  even  if  we  could,  it  would  be  of  no  use,  for  they  keep  them 
very  drunk  on  purpose.  Smart  fellow  Fizkin's  agent — very  smart  fellow 
indeed." 

Mr.  Pickwick  stared,  but  said  nothing. 

"  We  are  pretty  confident,  though,"  said  Mr.  Perker,  sinking  his 
voice  almost  to  a  whisper.  "  We  had  a  little  tea-party  here,  last  night 
— five-and-forty  women,  my  dear  Sir — and  gave  every  one  of  'em  a 
green  parasol  when  she  went  away." 

"  A  parasol !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Fact,  my  dear  Sir,  fact.  Five-and-forty  green  parasols,  at  seven 
and  six-pence  a-piece.  All  women  like  finery, — extraordinary  the 
effect  of  those  parasols.  Secured  all  their  husbands,  and  half  their 
brothers — beats  stockings,  and  flannel,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  hollow. 
My  idea,  my  dear  Sir,  entirely.  Hail,  rain,  or  sunshine,  you  can't  walk 
half  a  dozen  yards  up  the  street,  without  encountering  half  a  dozen 
green  parasols." 

Here  the  little  man  indulged  in  a  convulsion  of  mirth,  which  was 
only  checked  by  the  entrance  of  a  third  party. 

This  was  a  tall,  thin  man,  with  a  sandy-coloured  head  inclined  to 
baldness,  and  a  face  in  which  solemn  importance  was  blended  with  a  look 
of  unfathomable  profundity.  He  was  dressed  in  a  long  brown  surtout, 
with  a  black  cloth  waistcoat,  and  drab  trousers.  A  double  eye-glass 
dangled  at  his  waistcoat:  and  on  his  head  he  wore  a  very  low-crowned 
hat  with  a  broad  brim.  The  new  comer  was  introduced  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick as  Mr.  Pott,  the  editor  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette.  After  a  few 
preliminary  remarks,  Mr.  Pott  turned  round  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  said 
with  solemnity — 

"  This  contest  excites  great  interest  in  the  metropolis,  Sir  ?  " 

"  I  believe  it  does,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  To  which  I  have  reason  to  know,"  said  Pott,  looking  towards  Mr. 
Perker  for  corroboration, — ''  to  which  I  have  reason  to  know  my  article 
of  last  Saturday  in  some  degree  contributed." 


124  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

**  Not  the  least  doubt  of  that/*  said  the  little  man. 

"  The  press  is  a  mighty  engine,  Sir,"  said  Pott. 

Mr.  Pickwick  yielded  his  fullest  assent  to  the  proposition. 

"  But  I  trust.  Sir,"  said  Pott,  "  that  I  have  never  abused  the  enor- 
mous power  I  wield.  I  trust,  Sir,  that  I  have  never  pointed  the  noble 
instrument  which  is  placed  in  my  hands,  against  the  sacred  bosOTn  of 
private  life,  or  the  tender  breast  of  individual  reputation  ; — I  trust,  Sir, 
that  I  have  devoted  my  energies  to — to  endeavours — humble  they  may 

be,  humble  I  know  they  are — to  instil  those  principles  of — which — 

»> 
are — 

Here  the  editor  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  appearing  to  ramble,  Mr. 
Pickwick  came  to  his  relief,  and  said — 

"  Certainly." 

"  And  what,  Sir " — said  Pott—"  what,  Sir,  let  me  ask  you  as  an 
impartial  man,  is  the  state  of  the  public  mind  in  London,  with  reference 
to  my  contest  with  the  Independent  ?  " 

"  Greatly  excited,  no  doubt,"  interposed  Mr.  Perker,  with  a  look  of 
slyness  which  was  very  likely  accidental. 

"  That  contest,"  said  Pott,  *'  shall  be  prolonged  so  long  as  I  have 
health  and  strength,  and  that  portion  of  talent  with  which  I  am  gifted. 
From  that  contest.  Sir,  although  it  may  unsettle  men's  minds  and  excite 
their  feelings,  and  render  them  incapable  for  the  discharge  of  the  every- 
day duties  of  ordinary  life  ;  from  that  contest.  Sir,  I  will  never  shrink, 
till  I  have  set  my  heel  upon  the  Eatanswill  Independent.  I  wish  the 
people  of  London,  and  the  people  of  this  country  to  know,  Sir,  that 
they  may  rely  upon  me ; — that  I  will  not  desert  them,  that  I  am 
resolved  to  stand  by  them.  Sir,  to  the  last." 

*'  Your  conduct  is  most  noble,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  and  he 
grasped  the  hand  of  the  magnanimous  Pott. 

"  You  are,  Sir,  I  perceive,  a  man  of  sense  and  talent,"  said  Mr.  Pott, 
almost  breathless  with  the  vehemence  of  his  patriotic  declaration.  "  I 
am  most  happy,  Sir,  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  such  a  man." 

"  And  I,"  said  Mr,  Pickwick,  ^'  feel  deeply  honoured  by  this  expres- 
sion of  your  opinion.  Allow  me,  Sir,  to  introduce  you  to  my  fellow- 
travellers,  the  other  corresponding  members  of  the  club  I  am  proud  to 
have  founded." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  said  Mr.  Pott. 

Mr.  Pickwick  withdrew,  and  returning  with  his  three  friends,  pre- 
sented them  in  due  form  to  the  editor  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette. 

"  Now  my  dear  Pott,"  said  little  Mr.  Perker,  "  the  question  is,  what 
are  we  to  do  with  our  friends  here  ?  " 

"  We  can  stop  in  this  house,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Not  a  spare  bed  in  the  house,  my  dear  Sir — not  a  single  bed." 

"  Extremely  awkward,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Very  ; "  said  his  fellow- voyagers. 

"  I  have  an  idea  upon  this  subject,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  "  which  I  think 
may  be  very  successfully  adopted.  They  have  two  beds  at  the  Peacock, 
and  I  can  boldly  say,  on  behalf  of  Mrs.  Pott,  that  she  will  be  delighted 
to  accommodate  Mr.  Pickwick  and  any  one  of  his  friends,  if  the  other 


THE   PICKWXCK    CLUB.  125 

two  gentlemen  and  their  servant  do  not  object  to  shifting-,  as  they  best 
can,  at  the  Peacock/* 

After  repeated  pressings  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Pott,  and  repeated  pro- 
testations on  that  of  Mr.  Pickwick  that  he  could  not  think  of  incom- 
moding or  troubling  his  amiable  wife,  it  was  decided  that  this  was  the 
only  feasible  arrangement  that  could  be  made.  So  it  was  made ;  and 
after  dining  together  at  the  Town  Arms,  the  friends  separated,  Mr. 
Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  repairing  to  the  Peacock,  and  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  Mr.  Winkle  proceeding  to  the  mansion  of  Mr.  Pott ;  it  having 
been  previously  arranged  that  they  should  all  re-assemble  at  the  Town 
Arms  in  the  morning,  and  accompany  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey's 
procession  to  the  place  of  nomination. 

Mr.  Pott's  domestic  circle  was  limited  to  himself  and  his  wife.  All 
men  whom  mighty  genius  has  raised  to  a  proud  eminence  in  the  world, 
have  usually  some  little  weakness  which  appears  the  more  conspicuous 
from  the  contrast  it  presents  to  their  general  character.  If  Mr.  Pott 
had  a  weakness,  it  was,  perhaps,  that  he  was  rather  too  submissive  to 
the  somewhat  contemptuous  controul  and  sway  of  his  wife.  We  do  not 
feel  justified  in  laying  any  particular  stress  upon  the  fact,  because  on 
the  present  occasion  all  Mrs.  Pott's  most  winning  ways  were  brought 
into  requisition  to  receive  the  two  gentlemen. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  "  Mr.  Pickwick— Mr.  Pickwick  of 
London." 

Mrs.  Pott  received  Mr.  Pickwick's  paternal  grasp  of  the  hand  with 
enchanting  sweetness  :  and  Mr.  Winkle,  who  had  not  been  announced 
at  all,  slided  and  bowed,  unnoticed,  in  an  obscure  corner. 

«  P.  my  dear—"  said  Mrs.  Pott. 

"  My  life,"  said  Mr.  Pott. 

"  Pray  introduce  the  other  gentleman." 

"  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,"  said  Mr.  Pott.  "  Permit  me^ — Mrs. 
Pott,  Mr.  — " 

"  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Winkle,"  echoed  Mr.  Pott ;  and  the  ceremony  of  introduction  was 
complete. 

•'  We  owe  you  many  apologies.  Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  for 
disturbing  your  domestic  arrangements  at  so  short  a  notice." 

"  I  beg  you  won't  mention  it.  Sir,"  replied  the  feminine  Pott,  with 
vivacity.  "  It  is  a  high  treat  to  me,  I  assure  you,  to  see  any  new 
faces  ;  living  as  I  do,  from  day  to  day,  and  week  to  week,  in  this  dull 
place,  and  seeing  nobody." 

"  Nobody,  my  dear  I  *'  exclaimed  Mr.  Pott,  archly. 

"  Nobody  but  you"  retorted  Mrs.  Pott,  with  asperity. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  the  host  in  explanation  of  his  wife's 
lament,  "  that  we  are  in  some  measure  cut  off  from  many  enjoyments 
and  pleasures  of  which  we  might  otherwise  partake.  My  public  station, 
as  editor  of  the  Eatanswiil  Gazette,  the  position  which  that  paper  holds 
in  the  country,  my  constant  immersion  in  the  vortex  of  politics — " 

"  P.  my  dear — "  interposed  Mrs.  Pott, 

"  My  life—"  said  the  editor. 


126  I'OSTIIUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

♦    '*  I  Wish,  my  dear,  you  would  endeavour  to  find  some  topic  of  conver- 
sation in  which  these  gentlemen  might  take  some  rational  interest." 

^'  But  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  with  great  humility,  "  Mr.  Pickwick 
does  take  an  interest  in  it." 

"  It's  well  for  him  if  he  can,"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  emphatically ;  «  I  am 
wearied  out  of  my  life  with  your  politics,  and  quarrels  with  the  Inde- 
pendent, and  nonsense.  I  am  quite  astonished  P.  at  your  making  such 
an  exhibition  of  your  absurdity." 

'<  But  my  dear—"  said  Mr.  Pott. 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  don't  talk  to  me ; "  said  Mrs.  Pott.  "  Do  you  play 
ecarte,  Sir  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  learn,  under  your  tuition,"  replied  Mr 
Winkle. 

<•  Well,  then,  draw  that  little  table  into  this  window,  and  let  me  get 
out  of  hearing  of  those  prosy  politics." 

"  Jane,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  to  the  servant  who  brought  in  candles,  "  go 
down  into  the  office,  and  bring  me  up  the  file  of  the  Gazette  for 
Eighteen  Hundred  and  Twenty  Eight.  I'll  just  read  you — "  added  the 
editor,  turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I'll  just  read  you  a  few  of  the  leaders 
I  wrote  at  that  time,  upon  the  Buif  job  of  appointing  a  new  tollman  to 
the  turnpike  here  ;  I  rather  think  they'll  amuse  you." 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  them  very  much,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Up  came  the  file,  and  down  sat  the  editor,  with  Mr.  Pickwick  at  his 
side. 

We  have  in  vain  pored  over  the  leaves  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  note-book, 
in  the  hope  of  meeting  with  a  general  summary  of  these  beautiful  com- 
positions. We  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  perfectly 
enraptured  with  the  vigour  and  freshness  of  the  style  ;  indeed  Mr. 
Winkle  has  recorded  the  fact  that  his  eyes  were  closed,  as-  if  with 
excess  of  pleasure,  during  the  whole  time  of  their  perusal. 

The  announcement  of  supper  put  a  stop  both  to  the  game  at  ecarte, 
and  the  recapitulation  of  the  beauties  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette.  Mrs. 
Pott  was  in  the  highest  spirits  and  the  most  agreeable  humour.  Mr. 
Winkle  had  already  made  considerable  progress  in  her  good  opinion, 
and  she  did  not  hesitate  to  inform  him,  confidentially,  that  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  "  a  delightful  old  dear."  These  terms  convey  a  familiarity  of 
expression,  in  which  few  of  those  who  were  intimately  acquainted  with 
that  colossal-minded  man,  would  have  presumed  to  indulge.  We  have 
preserved  them,  nevertheless,  as  aifording  at  once  a  touching  and  a  con- 
vincing proof  of  the  estimation  in  which  he  was  held  by  every  class  of 
society,  and  the  ease  with  which  he  made  his  way  to  their  hearts  and 
feelings. 

It  was  a  late  hour  of  the  night — long  after  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass  had  fallen  asleep  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  Peacock — 
when  the  two  friends  retired  to  rest.  Slumber  soon  fell  upon  the  senses 
of  Mr.  Winkle,  but  his  feelings  had  been  excited,  and  his  admiration 
roused ;  and  for  many  hours  after  sleep  had  rendered  him  insensible  to 
earthly  objects,  the  face  and  figure  of  the  agreeable  Mrs.  Pott  presented 
themselves  again  and  again  to  his  wandering  imagination. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  127 

The  noise  and  bustle  which  ushered  in  the  morning,  were  sufficient 
to  dispel  from  the  mind  of  the  most  romantic  visionary  in  existence, 
any  associations  but  those  which  were  immediately  connected  with  the 
rapidly-approaching  election.  The  beating  of  drums,  the  blowing  of 
horns  and  trumpets,  the  shouting  of  men,  and  tramping  of  horses, 
echoed  and  re-echoed  through  the  streets  from  the  earliest  dawn  of  day  ; 
and  an  occasional  fight  between  the  light  skirmishers  of  either  party, 
at  once  enlivened  the  preparations,  and  agreeably  diversified  their  cha- 
racter. 

"  Well,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  his  valet  appeared  at  his  bed- 
room door,  just  as  he  was  concluding  his  toilet ;  "  all  alive  to-day,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"  Reg'lar  game.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller ;  "  our  people's  a  col-lecting 
down  at  the  Town  Arms,  and  they're  a  hollering  themselves  hoarse 
already." 

"  Ah/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  do  they  seem  devoted  to  their  party, 
Sara?" 

"  Never  see  such  dewotion  in  my  life,  Sir." 

"  Energetic,  eh  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Uncommon,"  replied  Sam;  "  I  never  see  men  eat  and  drinlc  so 
much  afore.     I  wonder  they  a'nt  afeer'd  o'  bustin." 

"  That's  the  mistaken  kindness  of  the  gentry  here,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  Werry  likely,"  replied  Sam,  briefly. 

"  Fine,  fresh,  hearty  fellows  they  seem,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  glancing 
from  the  window. 

"  Werry  fresh,"  replied  Sam ;  "  me,  and  the  two  waiters  at  the  Pea- 
cock, has  been  a  pumpin'  over  the  independent  woters  as  supped  there 
last  night." 

"  Pumping  over  independent  voters  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Yes,"  said  his  attendant,  "  every  man  slept  verc  he  fell  down ;  we 
dragged  'em  out,  one  by  one,  this  mornin'  and  put  'em  under  the  pump, 
and  they're  in  reg'lar  fine  order,  now.  Shillin'  a  head  the  committee 
paid  for  that  'ere  job." 

"  Can  such  things  be  !  "  exclaimed  the  astonished  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Lord  bless  your  heart.  Sir,"  said  Sam,  "  why  where  was  you  half 
baptized  ? — that's  nothin',  that  a'nt." 

"  Nothing  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Nothin'  at  all.  Sir,"  replied  his  attendant.     "  The  night  afore  th 
last  day  o'  the  last  election  here,  the  opposite  party  bribed  the  bar-maid 
at  the  Town  Arms,  to  hocus  the  brandy  and  water  of  fourteen  unpolled 
electors  as  was  a  stoppin'  in  the  house." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  hocussing '  brandy  and  water  ?  "  inquired 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Puttin'  laud'num  in  it,"  replied  Sam.  "  Blessed  if  she  didn't  send 
'em  all  to  sleep  till  twelve  hours  arter  the  election  was  over.  They 
took  one  man  up  to  the  booth,  in  a  truck,  fast  asleep,  by  way  of  experi- 
ment, but  it  was  no  go — they  wouldn't  poll  him ;  so  they  brought  him 
back,  and  put  him  to  bed  again." 


128  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Strange  practices,  these,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  half  speaking  to  him- 
self, and  half  addressing  Sam. 

"  Not  half  so  strange  as  a  miraculous  circumstance  as  happened  to 
my  own  father,  at  an  electioti-tirae,  in  this  wery  place,  Sir,"  replied 
Sam. 

"  What  was  that  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Why  he  drove  a  coach  down  here  once,"  said  Sam  ;  "  'Lection  time 
came  on,  and  he  was  engaged  by  vun  party  to  bring  down  woters  from 
London.  Night  afore  he  was  a  going  to  drive  up,  committee  on  t'other 
side  sends  for  him  quietly,  and  away  he  goes  vith  the  messenger,  who 
shows  him  in  ; — large  room — lots  of  gen'l'm'n — heaps  of  papers, 
pens  and  ink,  and  all  that  'ere.  '  Ah,  Mr.  Weller,'  says  the 
gen'l'm'n  in  the  chair,  'glad  to  see  you,  Sir;  how  are  you? ' — *  Werry 
well,  thank'ee,  Sir,'  says  my  father ;  *  I  hope  you  re  pretty  middlin,'  says 
he — '  Pretty  well,  thank'ee,  Sir,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n ;  '  sit  down,  Mr. 
Weller — pray  sit  down,  sir.'  So  my  father  sits  down,  and  he  and  the 
gen'l'm'n  looks  wery  hard  at  each  other.  *  You  don't  remember  me  ?  * 
says  the  gen'l'm'n  ?  — *  Can't  say  I  do,'  says  my  father — '  Oh,  I  know 
you,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n ;  '  know'd  you  ven  you  was  a  boy,'  says  he. — 

*  Well,  I  don't  remember  you,'  says  my  father — *  That's  wery  odd,'  says 
the  gen'l'm'n — ^  Wery,'  says  my  father — '  You  must  have  a  bad  mem'ry 
Mr.  Weller/  says  the  gen'l'm'n — *  Well,  it  is  a  wery  bad  'un,'  says  my 
father — '  I  thought  so,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n.  So  then  they  pours  him 
out  a  glass  o'  wine,  and  gammons  him  about  his  driving,  and  gets  him 
into  a  reg'lar  good  humour,  and  at  last  shoves  a  twenty  pound  note  in 
his  hand.  '  It's  a  wery  bad  road  between  this  and  London,'  says  the 
gen'l'm'n — *  Here  and  there  it  u  a  wery  heavy  road,'  says  my 
father — *  'Specially  near  the  canal,  I  think,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n — <  Nasty 
bit,  that  'ere,'  says  my  father — '  Well,  Mr.  Weller/  says  the  gen'l'm'n, 

*  you're  a  wery  good  whip,  and  can  do  what  you  like  with  your  horses, 
we  know.  We're  all  wery  fond  o'  you,  Mr.  Weller,  so  in  case  you 
should  have  an  accident  when  you're  a  bringing  these  here  woters  down, 
and  should  tip  'em  over  into  the  canal  vithout  hurtin'  'em,  this  is  for 
yourself,'   says   he — *  Gen'l'm'n,  you're  wery  kind,*  says  my  father, 

*  and  I'll  drink  your  health  in  another  glass  of  wine,'  says  he ;  vich  he 
did,  and  then  buttons  up  the  money,  and  bows  himself  out.  You 
vouldn't  believe.  Sir/'  continued  Sam,  with  a  look  of  inexpressible 
impudence  at  his  master,  "  that  on  the  wery  day  as  he  came  down 
with  them  woters,  his  coach  was  upset  on  that  'ere  wery  spot,  and  ev'ry 
man  on  'em  was  turned  into  the  canal." 

"  And  got  out  again  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily. 

"  Why,"  replied  Sam,  very  slowly,  "  I  rather  think  one  old  gentle-  •] 
man  was  missin' ;  I  know  his  hat  was  found,  but  I  a'n't  quite  certain 
whether  his  head  was  in  it  or  not.  But  what  I  look  at,  is  the  hex-tra- 
ordinary,  and  wonderful  coincidence,  that  arter  what  that  gen'l'm'n  said 
my  father's  coach  should  be  upset  in  that  wery  place,  and  on  that  wery^ 
day!" 

'*  It  is,  no  doubt,  a  very  extraordinary  circumstance  indeed/'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick.     "  But  brush  my  hat,  Sam,  for   I    hear  Mr.  Winkle  ■ 
calling  me  to  breakfast." 


THE     PICKWICK    CLUB  129 

With  these  words  Mr.  Pickwick  descendetl  to  the  parlour,  where  he 
found  breakfast  laid,  and  the  family  already  assembled.  The  meal  was 
hastily  desj)atched  ;  each  of  the  gentlemen's  hats  was  decorated  with  an 
enormous  blue  favour,  made  up  by  the  fair  hands  of  Mrs.  Pott  herself, 
and  as  Mr.  Winkle  had  undertaken  to  escort  that  lady  to  a  house  top, 
in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  hustings,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Pott 
repaired  alone  to  the  Town  Arms,  from  the  back  window  of  which,  one 
of  Mr.  Slumkey's  committee  was  addressing  six  small  boys,  and  one 
girl,  whom  he  dignified,  at  every  second  sentence,  with  the  imposing 
title  of  "  men  of  Eatanswill,"  whereat  the  six  small  boys  aforesaid 
cheered  prodigiously. 

The  stable-yard  exhibited  unequivocal  symptoms  of  the  glory  and 
strength  of  the  Eatanswill  Blues.  There  was  a  regular  army  of  blue 
flags,  some  with  one  handle,  and  some  with  two,  exhibiting  appropriate 
devices,  in  golden  characters  four  feet  high,  and  stout  in  proportion. 
There  was  a  grand  band  of  trumpets,  bassoons  and  drums,  marshalled 
four  abreast,  and  earning  their  money,  if  ever  men  did,  especially  the 
drum  beaters,  who  were  very  muscular.  There  were  bodies  of  constables 
with  blue  staves,  twenty  committee-men  with  blue  scarfs,  and  a  mob  of 
voters  with  blue  cockades.  There  were  electors  on  horseback,  and 
electors  a-foot.  There  was  an  open  carriage  and  four,  for  the  honour- 
able Samuel  Slumkey;  and  there  were  four  carriages  and  pair,  for  his 
friends  and  supporters :  and  the  flags  were  rustling,  and  the  band  was 
playing,  and  the  constables  were  swearing,  and  the  twenty  committee- 
men were  squabbling,  and  the  mob  were  shouting,  and  the  horses  were 
backing,  and  the  post-boys  perspiring;  and  everybody,  and  everything, 
then  and  there  assembled,  was  for  the  special  use,  behoof,  honour,  and 
renown,  of  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  of  Slumkey  Hall,  one  of 
the  candidates  for  the  representation  of  the  Borough  of  Eatanswill,  in 
the  Commons  House  of  Parliament  of  the  United  Kingdom. 

Loud  and  long  were  the  cheers,  and  mighty  was  the  rustling  of  one 
of  the  blue  flags,  with  "  Liberty  of  the  Press  "  inscribed  thereon,  when 
the  sandy  head  of  Mr.  Pott  was  discerned  in  one  of  the  windows,  by 
the  mob  beneath ;  and  tremendous  was  the  enthusiasm  when  tne 
honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  himself,  in  top  boots,  and  a  blue  necker- 
chief, advanced  and  seized  the  hand  of  the  said  Pott,  and  melo-dramati- 
cally  testified  by  gestures  to  the  crowd,  his  ineffaceable  obligations  to  the 
Eatanswill  Gazette. 

"  Is  everything  ready  ?  "  said  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  to  Mr. 
Perker. 

"  Everything,  my  dear  Sir,"  was  the  little  man's  reply. 

**  Nothing  has  been  omitted,  I  hope  ?  "  said  the  honourable  Samuel 
Slumkey. 

"  Nothing  has  been  left  undone,  my  dear  Sir — nothing"  whatever. 
There  are  twenty  washed  men  at  the  street  door  for  you  to  shake  hands 
with;  and  six  children  in  arms  that  you're  to  pat  on  the  head,  and 
inquire  the  age  of;  be  particular  about  the  children,  my  dear  Sir, — it 
has  always  a  great  effect,  that  sort  of  thing." 

**  I'll  take  care,"  said  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey. 


180  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  And,  perhaps,  my  dear  Sir — "  said  the  cautious  little  man,  "  per- 
haps if  you  cotdd — I  don't  mean  to  say  it's  indispensable — but  if  you 
could  manage  to  kiss  one  of  'em,  it  would  produce  a  \Q,ry  great  impres- 
sion on  the  crowd." 

'*  Wouldn't  it  have  as  good  an  effect  if  the  proposer  or  seconder  did 
that  ?  "  said  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey. 

"  Why,  I  am  afraid  it  wouldn't,"  replied  the  agent ;  "  if  it  were  done 
by  yourself,  my  dear  Sir,  I  think  it  would  make  you  very  popular." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  with  a  resigned 
air,  "  then  it  must  be  done.     That's  all." 

'^  Arrange  the  procession/'  cried  the  twenty  committee-men. 

Amidst  the  cheers  of  the  assembled  throng,  the  band,  and  the  con- 
stables, and  the  committee-men,  and  the  voters,  and  the  horsemen,  and 
the  carriages,  took  their  places — each  of  the  two-horse  vehicles  being 
closely  packed  with  as  many  gentlemen  as  could  manage  to  stand 
upright  in  it  ;  and  that  assigned  to  Mr.  Perker,  containing  Mr. 
Pickwick,  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  about  half  a  dozen  of  the 
committee  beside. 

There  was  a  moment  of  awful  suspense  as  the  procession  waited  for 
the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  to  step  into  his  carriage.  Suddenly 
the  crowd  set  up  a  great  cheering. 

"  He  has  come  out,"  said  little  Mr.  Perker,  greatly  excited  ;  the  more 
so  as  their  position  did  not  enable  them  to  see  what  was  going  forward. 

Another  cheer^  much  louder. 

"  He  has  shaken  hands  with  the  men,"  cried  the  httle  agent. 

Another  cheer,  far  more  vehement. 

«  He  has  patted  the  babes  on  the  head,"  said  Mr.  Perker,  trembling 
with  anxiety. 

A  roar  of  applause  that  rent  the  air. 

*'  He  has  kissed  one  of  'em  I  "  exclaimed  the  delighted  little  man. 

A  second  roar. 

"  He  has  kissed  another,"  gasped  the  excited  manager. 

A  third  roar. 

"  He's  kissing  'em  all  I  "  screamed  the  enthusiastic  little  gentleman. 
And  hailed  by  the  deafening  shouts  of  the  multitude,  the  procession 
moved  on. 

How  or  by  what  means  it  became  mixed  up  with  the  other  procession, 
and  how  it  was  ever  extricated  from  the  confusion  consequent  there- 
upon, is  more  than  we  can  undertake  to  describe,  inasmuch  as  Mr. 
Pickwick's  hat  was  knocked  over  his  eyes,  nose,  and  mouth,  by  one  poke 
of  a  Buff  flag  staff,  very  early  in  the  proceedings.  He  describes  himself 
as  being  surrounded  on  every  side,  when  he  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
scene,  by  angry  and  ferocious  countenances,  by  a  vast  cloud  of  dust, 
and  by  a  dense  crowd  of  combatants.  He  represents  himself  as  being 
forced  from  the  carriage  by  some  unseen  power,  and  being  personally 
engaged  in  a  pugihstic  encounter;  but  with  whom,  or  how,  or  why.  he 
is  wholly  unable  to  state.  He  then  felt  himself  forced  up  some  wooden 
steps  by  the  persons  from  behind:  and  on  removing  his  hat,  found  him- 
self surrounded  by  his  friends,  in  the  very  front  of  the  left  hand  side  of 


THE    I'lCKUICK    CLltB.  131 

the  husUiig;s.  TIip  right  was  reserved  for  the  Buff  party,  and  the  centre 
for  tJie  mayor  and  his  officers  ;  one  of  whom — the  fat  crier  of  Eatanswill 
— was  ring-ing  an  enormous  bell,  by  way  of  commanding-  silence,  while 
jNIr,  Horatio  Fizkin,  and  the  Honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  with  their 
hands  upon  their  hearts,  were  bowing-  with  the  utmost  affability  to  the 
troubled  sea  of  heads  that  inundated  the  open  space  in  front;  and  from 
whence  arose  a  storm  of  groans,  and  shouts,  and  yells,  and  hootings, 
that  would  have  done  honour  to  an  earthquake. 

"  There's  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  pulling  his  friend  by  the 
sleeve. 

"  Where  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  putting  on  his  spectacles,  which  he 
hud  fortunately  kept  in  his  pocket  hitherto. 

"  There,"  said  Mr.  Tnpraan,  "  on  the  top  of  that  house."  And 
there  sure  enough,  in  the  leaden  gutter  of  a  tiled  roof,  were  Mr.  Winkle 
and  Mrs.  Pott,  comfortably  seated  in  a  couple  of  chairs,  waving  their 
handkerchiefs  in  token  of  recognition — a  compliment  which  Mr.  Pick- 
wick returned  by  kissing  his  hand  to  the  lady. 

Thepioceedings  had  not  yet  commenced ;  and  as  an  inactive  crowd  is 
generally  disposed  to  be  jocose,  this  very  innocent  action  was  sufficient 
to  awaken  their  facetiousness. 

"  Oh  you  wicked  old  rascal,"  cried  one  voice,  "  looking  arter  the 
girls,  are  you  ?  '' 

"  Oh  you  wenerable  "sinner,"  cried  another. 

*'  Putting  on  his  spectacles  to  look  at  a  married  'ooman ! "  said  a 
third. 

"  I  sec  him  a  vinkin'  at  her,  vith  his  vicked  old  eye,"  shouted  a 
fourth. 

*'  Look  arter  your  wife,  Pott,"  bellowed  a  fifth  ; — and  then  there  v/as 
a  roar  of  laughter. 

As  these  taunts  were  accompanied  with  invidious  comparisons 
between  Mr.  Pickwick  and  an  aged  ram,  and  several  witticisms  of  the 
like  nature;  and  as  they  moreover  rather  tended  to  convey  reflections 
upon  the  honour  of  an  innocent  lady,  Mr.  Pickwick's  indignation  was 
excessive  ;  but  as  silence  was  proclaimed  at  the  moment,  he  contented 
himself  by  scorching  the  mob  with  a  look  of  pity  for  their  misguided 
minds,  at  which  they  laughed  more  boisterously  than  ever. 
"  Silence,"  roared  the  mayor's  attendants. 

"  Whiffin,  proclaim  silence,"  said  the  mayor,  with  an  air  of  pomp 
befitting  his  lofty  station.  In  obedience  to  this  command  the  crier  per- 
formed another  concerto  on  the  bell,  whereupon  a  gentleman  in  the 
crowd  called  out  "muffins  ;"  which  occasioned  another  laugh. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  Mayor,  at  as  loud  a  pitch  as  he  could  possibly 
force  his  voice  to,  "  Gentlemen.     Brother  electors  of  the  Borough  of 
Eatanswill.     We  are  met  here  to-day,  for  the  purpose  of  choosing  a 
representative  in  the  room  of  our  late — " 
I      Here  the  Mayor  was  interrupted  by  a  voice  in  the  crowd. 

"  Suc-cess  to  the  Mayor ! "  cried  the  voice,  "  and  may  he  never 
desert  the  nail  and  sarspan  business,  as  he  got  his  money  by." 

This  allusion  to  the  professional  pursuits  of  the  orator  was  received 

N 


132  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

with  a  storm  of  delight,  which,  with  a  bell-accompaniment,  rendered 
the  remainder  of  his  speech  inaudible,  with  the  exception  of  the  con- 
cluding sentence,  in  which  he  thanked  the  meeting-  for  the  patient 
attention  with  which  they  had  heard  him  throughout, — an  expression  of 
gratitude  which  elicited  another  burst  of  mirth,  of  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour's  duration. 

Next,  a  tall  thin  gentleman,  in  a  very  stiff  white  neckerchief,  after 
being  repeatedly  desired  by  the  crowd  to  "  send  a  boy  home,  to  ask 
whether  he  hadn't  left  his  woice  under  the  pillow,"  begged  to  nominate 
a  iit  and  proper  person  to  represent  them  in  Parliament.  And  when 
he  said  i-t  was  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  near  Eatanswill, 
the  Fizkinites  applauded,  and  the  Slumkeyites  groaned,  so  long,  and  so 
loudly,  that  both  he  and  the  seconder  might  have  sung  comic  songs  in 
lieu  of  speaking,  without  anybody's  being  a  bit  the  wiser. 

The  friends  of-  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  having  had  their  innings,  a 
little  choleric,  pink-faced  man  stood  forward  to  propose  another  fit  and 
proper  person  to  represent  the  electors  of  Eatanswill  in  Parliament; 
and  very  swimmingly  the  pink-faced  gentleman  would  have  got  on,  if 
he  had  not  been  rather  too  choleric  to  entertain  a  sufficient  perception 
of  the  fun  of  the  crowd.  But  after  a  very  few  sentences  of  figurative 
eloquence,  the  pink-faced  gentleman  got  from  denouncing  those  who 
interrupted  him  in  the  mob,  to  exchanging  defiances  with  the  gentle-* 
men  on  the  hustings  ;  whereupon  arose  an  uproar  which  reduced  him  to 
the  necessity  of  expressing  his  feelings  by  serious  pantomime,  which  he 
did,  and  then  left  the  stage  to  his  seconder,  who  delivered  a  written 
speech  of  half  an  hour's  length,  and  wouldn't  be  stopped,  because  he  had 
sent  it  all  to  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  and  the  Eatanswill  Gazette  had 
printed  it,  every  word. 

Then  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  near  Eatanswill, 
presented  himself  for  the  purpose  of  addressing  the  electors ;  which  he 
no  sooner  did,  than  the  band  employed  by  the  honourable  Samuel 
Slumkey,  commenced  performing  with  a  power  to  which  their  strength 
in  the  morning  was  a  trifle ;  in  return  for  which,  the  Buff  crowd  bela- 
boured the  heads  and  shoulders  of  the  Blue  crowd ;  on  which  the  Blue 
crowd  endeavoured  to  dispossess  themselves  of  their  very  unpleasant 
neighbours  the  Buff  crowd  ;  and  a  scene  of  struggling,  and  pushing,  and 
fighting,  succeeded,  to  which  we  can  no  more  do  justice  than  the  Mayor 
could,  although  he  issued  imperative  orders  to  twelve  constables  to  seize 
the  ring-leaders,  who  might  amount  in  number  to  two  hundred  and 
fifty,  or  thereabouts.  At  all  these  encounters,  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire, 
of  Fizkin  Lodge,  and  his  friends,  waxed  fierce  and  furious ;  until  at  last 
Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  begged  to  ask  his  opponent, 
the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall,  whether  that 
band  played  by  his  consent ;  which  question  the  honourable  Samuel 
Slumkey  declining  to  answer,  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge, 
shook  his  fist  in  the  countenance  of  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of 
Slumkey  Hall ;  upon  which  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  his  blood 
being  up,  defied  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  to  mortal  combat.  At  this 
violation  of  all  known  rules  and  ])recedents  of  order,  the  Mayor 
commanded  another  fantasia  on  the  1  ^11;,    ud  declared  that  he  would 


■.^^■„>' 


Hm 


THE   PICKWICK.    CLUB.  103 

bring  before  himself,  both  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge, 
and  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Shunkey  Hall,  and  bind  them 
over  to  keep  the  peace.  Upon  this  terrific  denunciation,  the  supporters 
of  the  two  candidates  interfered,  and  after  the  friends  of  each  party  hud 
quarrelled  in  pairs  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  Horatio  Fizkin, 
Esquire,  touched  his  hat  to  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey :  the 
honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  touched  his  to  Horatio  Fizkin,  Ee-quire  : 
the  band  was  stopped,  the  crowd  were  partially  quieted,  and  Horatio 
Fizkin,  Esquire,  was  permitted  to  proceed. 

The  speeches  of  the  two  candidates,  though  differing  in  every  other 
respect,  afforded  a  beautiful  tribute  to  the  merit  and  high  worth  of  the 
electors  of  Eatanswill.  Both  expressed  their  opinion  that  a  more  inde- 
pendent, a  more  enlightened,  a  more  public-spirited,  a  more  noble- 
minded,  a  more  disinterested  set  of  men  than  those  who  had  promised 
to  vote  for  him,  never  existed  on  earth ;  each  darkly  hinted  his  suspi- 
cions that  the  electors  in  the  opposite  interest  had  certain  swinish  and 
besotted  infirmities  which  rendered  them  unfit  for  the  exercise  of  the 
important  duties  they  were  called  upon  to  discharge.  Fizkin  expressed 
his  readiness  to  do  anything  he  was  wanted ;  Slumkey,  his  determina- 
tion to  do  nothing  that  was  asked  of  him.  Both  said  that  the  trade,  the 
manufactures,  the  commerce,  the  prosperity,  of  Eatanswill,  would  ever 
be  dearer  to  their  hearts  than  any  earthly  object;  and  each  had  it  in  his 
power  to  state,  with  the  utmost  confidence,  that  he  was  the  man  who 
would  eventually  be  returned. 

There  was  a  show  of  hands;  the  Mayor  decided  in  favour  of  ihe 
honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall.  Horatio  Fizkin, 
Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  demanded  a  poll,  and  a  poll  was  fixed  accord- 
ingly. Then  a  vote  of  thanks  was  moved  to  the  Mayor  for  his  able 
conduct  in  the  chair ;  and  the  Mayor  devoutly  wishing  that  he  had  had 
a  chair  to  display  his  able  conduct  in  (for  he  had  been  standing  during 
the  whole  proceedings)  returned  thanks.  The  processions  re-formed, 
the  carriages  rolled  slowly  through  the  crowd,  and  its  members  screeched 
and  shoiited  after  them  as  their  feelings  or  caprice  dictated. 

During  the  whole  time  of  the  polling,  the  town  was  in  a  perpetual 
fever  of  excitement.  Everything  was  conducted  on  the  most  liberal 
and  delightful  scale.  Exciseable  articles  were  remarkably  cheap  at  all 
the  public  houses ;  and  spring  vans  paraded  the  streets  for  the  accom- 
modation of  voters  who  were  seized  with  any  temporary  dizziness  in  the 
head — an  epidemic  which  prevailed  among  the  electors,  during  the 
contest,  to  a  most  alarming  extent,  and  under  the  influence  of  which 
they  might  frequently  be  seen  lying  on  the  pavements  in  a  state  of 
utter  insensibility.  A  small  body  of  electors  remained  unpolled  on  the 
very  last  day.  They  were  calculating  and  reflecting  persons,  who  had 
not  yet  been  convinced  by  the  arguments  of  either  party,  although  they 
had  had  frequent  conferences  with  each.  One  hour  before  the  close  of 
the  poll,  Mr.  Perker  solicited  the  honour  of  a  private  interview  with 
these  intelligent,  these  noble,  these  patriotic  men.  It  was  granted 
His  arguments  were  brief,  but  satisfactory.  They  went  in  a  body  to 
the  poll ;  and  when  they  returned,  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey, 
of  Slumkey  Hall,  was  returned  also. 

k2 


134  POSTHUMOUS    PAPBRS   OF 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

COMPRISING    A     BRIEF    DESCRIPTION     OF    THE     COMPANY     AT     THE 
PEACOCK    ASSEMBLED;    AND    A    TALE    TOLD    BY    A    BAGMAN. 

It  is  pleasant  to  turn  from  contemplating"  the  strife  and  turmoil  of 
political  existence,  to  the  peaceful  repose  of  private  life.  Although  in 
reality  no  great  partisan  of  either  side,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  sufficiently- 
fired  with  Mr.  Pott's  enthusiasm,  to  apply  his  whole  time  and  attention 
to  the  proceedings,  of  which  the  last  chapter  affords  a  description  com- 
piled from  his  own  memoranda.  Nor  while  he  was  thus  occupied  was 
Mr.  Winkle  idle,  his  whole  time  being  devoted  to  pleasant  walks  and 
short  country  excursions  with  Mrs.  Pott,  who  never  failed,  when  such 
an  opportunity  'presented  itself,  to  seek  some  relief  from  the  tedious 
monotony  she  so  constantly  complained  of.  The  two  gentlemen  being 
thus  completely  domesticated  in  the  Editor's  house,  Mr.  Tupman  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass  were  in  a  great  measure  cast  upon  their  own  resources. 
Taking  but  little  interest  in  pubHc  affairs,  they  beguiled  their  time  chiefly 
with  such  amusements  as  the  Peacock  afforded,  which  were  limited  to 
a  bagatelle-board  in  the  first  floor,  and  a  sequestered  skittle-ground  in  the 
back  yard.  In  the  science  and  nicety  of  both  these  recreations,  which 
are  far  more  abstruse  than  ordinary  men  suppose,  they  were  gradually 
initiated  by  Mr.  Weller,  who  possessed  a  perfect  knowledge  of  such 
pastimes.  Thus,  notwithstanding  that  they  were  in  a  great  measure 
deprived  of  the  comfort  and  advantage  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  society,  they 
were  still  enabled  to  beguile  the  time,  and  to  prevent  its  hanging  heavily 
on  their  hands. 

It  was  in  the  evening,  however,  that  the  Peacock  presented  attrac- 
tions which  enabled  the  two  friends  to  resist,  even  the  invitations  of 
the  talented,  though  prosily  inclined,  Mr.  Pott.  It  was  in  the  evening 
that  the  "  commercial  room"  was  filled  with  a  social  circle,  whose 
characters  and  manners  it  was  the  delight  of  Mr.  Tupman  to  observe ; 
whose  sayings  and  doings  it  was  the  habit  of  Mr.  Snodgrass  to  note 
down. 

Most  people  know  what  sort  of  places  commercial  rooms  usually  are. 
That  of  the  Peacock  differed  in  no  material  respect  from  the  generality 
of  such  apartments ;  that  is  to  say,  it  was  a  large  bare-looking  room, 
the  furniture  of  which  had  no  doubt  been  better  when  it  was  newer, 
with  a  spacious  table  in  the  centre,  and  a  variety  of  smaller  dittos  in 
the  corners  :  an  extensive  assortment  of  variously  shaped  chairs,  and  an 
old  Turkey  carpet,  bearing  about  the  same  relative  proportion  to  the 
size  of  the  room,  as  a  lady's  pocket-handkerchief  might  to  the  floor  of  a 
watch-box.  The  walls  were  garnished  with  one  or  two  large  maps ; 
and  several  weather-beaten  rough  great  coats,  with  complicated  capes, 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB.  135 

dangled  from  a  long  row  of  pegs  in  one  corner.  The  mantel-shelf  was 
ornnmented  with  a  wooden  inkstand,  containing  one  stump  of  a  pen  and 
half  a  wafer,  a  road-book  and  directory,  a  county  history  minus  the 
cover,  and  the  mortal  remains  of  a  trout  in  a  glass  coffin.  The  atmo- 
spiiere  was  redolent  of  tobacco-smoke,  the  fumes  of  which  had  commu- 
nicated a  rather  dingy  hue  to  the  whole  room,  and  more  especially  to 
the  dusty  red  curtains  which  shaded  the  windows.  On  the  sideboard,  a 
variety  of  miscellaneous  articles  were  huddled  together,  the  most  con- 
spicuous of  which  were  some  very  cloudy  fish-sauce  cruets,  a  couple  or 
driving-boxes,  two  or  three  whips,  and  as  many  travelling  shawls,  a 
tray  of  knives  and  forks,  and  the  mustard. 

Here  it  was  that  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  were  seated  on 
the  evening  after  the  conclusion  of  the  election,  with  several  other 
temporary  inmates  of  the  house,  smoking  and  drinking. 

"  Well  gents,"  said  a  stout,  hale  personage  of  about  forty,  with  only 
one  eye — a  very  bright  black  eye,  which  twinkled  with  a  roguish  expres- 
sion of  fiin  and  good  humour,  "  Our  noble  selves,  gents.  I  always 
propose  that  toast  to  the  company,  and  drink  Mary  to  myself.  Eh, 
Mary?" 

"  Get  along  with  you,  you  wretch,"  said  the  hand-maiden,  obviously 
not  ill  pleased  with  the  compliment,  however. 

"  Don't  go  away,  Mary,"  said  the  black  eyed  man. 

"  Let  me  alone,  iraperence,"  said  the  young  lady. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  the  one-eyed  man,  calling  after  the  girl  as  she 
left  the  room.  "  I'll  step  out  by  and  by,  Mary.  Keep  your  spirits 
up,  dear."  Here  he  went  through  the  not  very  difficult  process  of 
winking  upon  the  company  with  his  solitary  eye,  to  the  enthusiastic 
delight  of  an  elderly  personage  with  a  dirty  face  and  a  clay  pipe. 

"  Rum  creeters  is  women,"  said  the  dirty-faced  man,  after  a  pause. 

"  Ah  I  no  mistake  about  that,"  said  a  very  red-faced  man,  behind  a 
cigar. 

After  this  little  bit  of  philosophy  there  was  another  pause. 

"  There's  rummer  things  than  women  in  this  world  though,  mind 
you,"  said  the  man  with  the  black  eye,  slowly  filling  a  large  Dutch 
pipe,  with  a  most  capacious  bowl. 

"  Are  you  married?  "  inquired  the  dirty-faced  man. 

"  Can't  say  I  am." 

'*  I  thought  not."  Here  the  dirty-faced  man  fell  into  extasies  of 
mirth  at  his  own  retort,  in  which  he  was  joined  by  a  man  of  bland  voice 
and  placid  countenance,  who  always  made  it  a  point  to  agree  with 
everybody. 

*'  Women  after  all,  gentlemen,"  said  the  enthusiastic  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
"  are  the  great  props  and  comforts  of  our  existence." 

"  So  they  are,"  said  the  placid  gentleman. 

"  When  they're  in  a  s"ood  humour,"  interposed  the  dirty-faced  man. 

"  And  that's  very  true,"  said  the  placid  one. 

"  I  repudiate  that  quahfication,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  whose  thoughts 
were  last  reverting  to  Emily  Wardle,  "  I  repudiate  it  with  disdain — with 
indignation.     Show  me  the  man  who  says  anything  against  women,  as 


136  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OP 

women,  and  1  boldly  declare  he  is  not  a  man."  And  Mr.  Snodgrass 
took  his  cig-ar  from  his  mouth,  and  struck  the  table  violently  with  his 
clenched  fist. 

"  That's  good  sound  argument,"  said  the  placid  man. 

"  Containing  a  position  which  I  deny,"  interrupted  he  of  the  dirty 
countenance. 

"  And  there's  certainly  a  very  great  deal  of  truth  in  what  you  observe 
too,  Sir,"  said  the  placid  gentleman. 

"  Your  health.  Sir,"  said  the  bagman  with  the  lonely  eye,  bestowing' 
an  approving  nod  on  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  acknowledged  the  compliment. 

"  I  always  like  to  hear  a  good  argument,"  continued  the  bagman,  "  a 
sharp  one,  like  this  ;  it's  very  improving  ;  but  this  little  argument  about 
women  brought  to  my  mind  a  story  I  have  heard  an  old  uncle  of  mine 
tell,  the  recollection  of  which,  just  now,  made  me  say  there  were  rummer 
things  than  women  to  be  met  with,  sometimes." 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  that  same  story,"  said  tho  red-faced  man  with 
the  cigar. 

*'  Should  you?"  was  the  only  reply  of  the  bagman,  who  continued  to 
smoke  with  great  vehemence. 

'*  So  should  I,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  speaking  for  the  first  time.  He 
was  always  anxious  to  increase  his  stock  of  experience. 

"  Should  you  ?  Well  then,  I'll  tell  it.  No  I  won't.  I  know  you 
won't  believe  it/'  said  the  man  with  the  roguish  eye,  making  that  organ 
look  more  roguish  than  ever. 

*^  If  you  say  it's  true,  of  course  I  shall,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Well,  upon  that  understanding  I'll  tell  it,"  replied  the  traveller. 
*'  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  great  commercial  house  of  Bilson  and 
Slum  ?  But  it  doesn't  matter  though,  whether  you  did  or  not,  because 
they  retired  from  business  long  since.  It's  eighty  years  ago,  since  the 
circumstance  happened  to  a  traveller  for  that  house,  but  he  was  a  par- 
ticular friend  of  my  uncle's  :  and  my  uncle  told  the  story  to  me.  It's 
a  queer  name  ;  but  he  used  to  call  it 

THE    bagman's    story, 

and  he  used  to  tell  it,  something  in  this  way. 

*'  One  winter's  evening,  about  five  o'clock,  just  as  it  began  to  grow 
dusk,  a  man  in  a  gig  might  have  been  seen  urging  his  tired  horse  along 
the  road  which  leads  across  Marlborough  Downs,  in  the  direction  of 
Bristol.  I  say  he  might  have  been  seen,  and  I  have  no  doubt  he 
would  have  been,  if  anybody  but  a  blind  man  had  happened  to  pass 
that  way ;  but  the  weather  was  so  bad,  and  the  night  so  cold  and  wet, 
that  nothing  w^as  out  but  the  water,  and  so  the  traveller  jogged  along 
in  the  middle  of  the  road,  lonesome  and  dreary  enough,  ff  any  bagman 
of  that  day  could  have  caught  sight  of  the  little  neck-or-nothing  sort 
of  gig,  with  a  clay-coloured  body  and  red  wheels,  and  the  vixenish  ill- 
tempered,  fast-going  bay  mare,  that  looked  like  a  cross  between  a 
butcher's  horse  and  a  twopenny  post-office  pony,  he  would  have 
known  at  once,  that  this  traveller  could  have  been  no  other  than  Tom 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  137 

Smart,  of  the  great  house  of  Bilson  and  Slum,  Cateaton  Street,  City, 
However,  as  there  was  no  bagman  to  look  on,  nobody  knew  anything  at 
all  al)out  the  matter;  and  so  Tom  Smart  and  his  clay-coloured  gig 
with  the  red  wheels, and  the  vixenish  mare  with  the  fast  pace,  went  on 
together,  keeping  the  secret  among  them,  and  nobody  was  a  bit  the  wiser. 

"  There  are  many  pleasanter  places  even  in  this  dreary  world,  than 
Marlborough  Downs  when  it  blows  hard  ;  and  if  you  throw  in  beside,  a 
gloomy  winter's  evening,  a  miry  and  sloppy  road,  and  a  pelting  fall  of 
heavy  rain,  and  try  the  effect,  by  way  of  experiment,  in  your  own 
proper  person,  you  will  experience  the  full  force  of  this  observation. 

"  The  wind  blew — not  up  the  road  or  down  it,  though  that's  bad 
enough,  but  sheer  across  it,  sending  the  rain  slanting  down  like  the 
lines  they  used  to  rule  in  the  copybooks  at  school,  to  make  the  boys  slope 
well.  For  a  moment  it  would  die  away,  and  the  traveller  would  begin 
to  delude  himself  into  the  belief  that,  exhausted  with  its  previous  fury, 
it  had  quietly  lain  itself  down  to  rest,  when,  whoo  !  he  would  hear  it 
growling  and  whistling  in  the  distance,  and  on  it  would  come  rushing 
over  the  hill-tops,  and  sweeping  along  the  plain,  gathering  sound  and 
strength  as  it  drew  nearer,  until  it  dashed  with  a  heavy  gust  against 
horse  and  man,  driving  the  sharp  rain  into  their  ears,  and  its  cold  damp 
breath  into  their  very  bones ;  and  past  them  it  would  scour,  far,  far 
away,  with  a  stunning  roar,  as  if  in  ridicule  of  their  weakness,  and 
triumphant  in  the  consciousness  of  its  own  strength  and  power. 

*'  The  bay  mare  splashed  away,  through  the  mud  and  water,  with 
drooping  ears,  now  and  then  tossing  her  head  as  if  to  express  her  dis- 
gust at  this  very  ungentlemanly  behaviour  of  the  elements,  but  keeping 
a  good  pace  notwithstanding,  until  a  gust  of  wind,  more  furious  than 
any  that  had  yet  assailed  them,  caused  her  to  stop  suddenly,  and  plant 
her  four  feet  firmly  against  the  ground,  to  prevent  her  being  blown 
over.  It's  a  special  mercy  that  she  did  this,  for  if  she  had  been  blown 
over,  the  vixenish  mare  was  so  light,  and  the  gig  was  so  light,  and 
Tom  Smart  such  a  light  weight  into  the  bargain,  that  they  must  infal- 
libly have  all  gone  rolling  over  and  over  together,  until  they  reached 
.the  confines  of  earth,  or  until  the  wind  fell ;  and  in  either  case  the 
probability  is,  that  neither  the  vixenish  mare,  nor  the  clay-coloured  gig 
with  the  red  wheels,  nor  Tom  Smart,  would  ever  have  been  fit  for 
service  again. 

"  <  Well,  damn  my  straps  and  whiskers,'  says  Tom  Smart,  (Tom 
sometimes  had  an  unpleasant  knack  of  swearing),  '  Damn  my  straps  and 
whiskers,' says  Tom,  '  if  this  ain't  pleasant,  blow  me.' 

"  You'll  very  likely  ask  me,  why,  as  Tom  Smart  had  been  pretty 
well  blown  already,  he  expressed  this  wish  to  be  submitted  to  the  same 
process  again.  I  can't  say — all  I  know  is,  that  Tom  Smart  said  so — 
or  at  least  he  always  told  my  uncle  he  said  so,  and  it's  just  the  same 
thing. 

"  '  Blow  me,'  says  Tom  Smart ;  and  the  mare  neighed  as  if  she  were 
precisely  of  the  same  opinion. 

"  *  Cheer  up  old  girl,'  said  Tom,  patting  the  bay  mare  on  the  neck 
with  the  end  of  his  whip,     '  It  won't  do  pushing  on,  such  a  night  as 


I«38  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


I 


this ;  the  first  house  we  come  to  we'll  put  up  at,  so  the  faster  you  go 
the  sooner  it's  over.     Soho,  old  girl — gently — gently/ 

"  Whether  the  vixenish  mare  was  suflBciently  well  acquainted  with 
the  tones  of  Tom's  voice  to  comprehend  his  meaning,  or  whether  she 
found  it  colder  standing  still  than  moving  on,  of  course  I  can't  say. 
But  I  can  say  that  Tom  had  no  sooner  finished  speaking,  than  she 
pricked  up  her  ears,  and  started  forward  at  a  speed  which  made  the 
clay-coloured  gig  rattle  till  you  would  have  supposed  every  one  of  the 
red  spokes  was  going  to  fly  out  on  the  turf  of  Marlborough  Downs ; 
and  even  Tom,  whip  as  he  was,  couldn't  stop  or  check  her  pace,  until 
she  drew  up,  of  her  own  accord,  before  a  road-side  inn  on  the  right- 
hand  side  of  the  way,  about  half  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  end  of 
the  Downs. 

"  Tom  cast  a  hasty  glance  at  the  upper  part  of  the  house  as  he 
threw  the  reins  to  the  hostler,  and  stuck  the  whip  in  the  box.  It  was 
a  strange  old  place,  built  of  a  kind  of  shingle,  inlaid,  as  it  were,  with 
cross-beams,  with  gable-topped  windows  projecting  completely  over 
the  pathway,  and  a  low  door  with  a  dark  porch,  and  a  couple  of  steep 
steps  leading  down  into  the  house,  instead  of  the  modern  fashion  of 
half  a  dozen  shallow  ones,  leading  up  to  it.  It  was  a  comfortable-looking 
place  though,  for  there  was  a  strong  cheerful  light  in  the  bar-window, 
which  shed  a  bright  ray  across  the  road,  and  even  lighted  up  the  hedge 
on  the  other  side ;  and  there  was  a  red  flickering  light  in  the  opposite 
window,  one  moment  but  faintly  discernible,  and  the  next  gleaming 
strongly  through  the  drawn  curtains,  which  intimated  that  a  rousing 
fire  was  blazing  within.  Marking  these  little  evidences  with  the  eye  of 
an  experienced  traveller,  Tom  dismounted  with  as  much  agility  as  his 
half-frozen  limbs  would  permit,  and  entered  the  house. 

"  In  less  than  five  minutes'  time,  Tom  was  ensconced  in  the  room 
opposite  the  bar — the  very  room  where  he  had  imagined  the  fire 
blazing — before  a  substantial  matter-of-fact  roaring  fire,  composed  of 
something  short  of  a  bushel  of  coals,  and  wood  enough  to  make  half  a 
dozen  decent  gooseberry-bushes,  piled  half  way  up  the  chimney,  and 
roaring  and  crackling  with  a  sound  that  of  itself  would  have  warmed 
the  heart  of  any  reasonable  man.  This  was  comfortable,  but  this  was 
not  all,  for  a  smartly  dressed  girl,  with  a  bright  eye  and  a  neat  ankle, 
was  laying  a  very  clean  white  cloth  on  the  table  ;  and  as  Tom  sat  with 
his  slippered  feet  on  the  fender,  and  his  back  to  the  open  door,  he  saw 
a  charming  prospect  of  the  bar  reflected  in  the  glass  over  the  chimney- 
piece,  with  delightful  rows  of  green  bottles  and  gold  labels,  together 
with  jars  of  pickles  and  preserves,  and  cheeses  and  boiled  hams,  and 
rounds  of  beef,  arranged  on  shelves  in  the  most  tempting  and  delicious 
array.  Well,  this  was  comfortable  too ;  but  even  this  was  not  all— 
for  in  the  bar,  seated  at  tea  at  the  nicest  possible  little  table,  drawn 
close  up  before  the  brightest  possible  little  fire,  was  a  buxom  widow 
of  somewhere  about  eight  and  forty  or  thereabouts,  with  a  face  as 
comfortable  as  the  bar,  who  was  evidently  the  landlady  of  the  house, 
and  the  supreme  ruler  over  all  these  agreeable  possessions.  There 
^vas  only  one  drawback  to  the  beauty  of  the  whole  picture,  and  thatj 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  139 

Mv&s  a  tall  man — a  very  tall  man — in  a  ])rou'n  coat  and  bri'ght  basket 
buttons,  and  black  whiskers,  and  wavy  black  hair,  who  was  seated  at 
tea  with  the  widow,  and  who  it  required  no  great  penetration  to  dis- 
cover was  in  a  fair  way  of  persuading  her  to  be  a  widow  no  longer,  but 
to  confer  upon  him  the  privilege  of  sitting  down  in  that  bar,  for  and 
during  the  whole  remainder  of  the  term  of  his  natural  life. 

"  Tom  Smart  was  by  no  means  of  an  irritable  or  envious  disposition, 
but  somehow  or  other  the  tall  man  with  the  brown  coat  and  the  bright 
basket  buttons  did  rouse  what  little  gall  he  had  in  hfs  composition,  and 
did  make  him  feel  extremely  indignant,  the  more  especially  as  he  could 
now  and  then  observe,  from  his  seat  before  the  glass,  certain  little  affec- 
tionate familiaritres  passing  between  the  tall  man  and  the  widow,  which 
sufficiently  denoted  that  the  tall  man  was  as  high  in  favour  as  he  was 
in  size.  Tom  was  fond  of  hot  punch — I  may  venture  to  say  he  was 
veiy  fond  of  hot  punch — and  after  he  had  seen  the  vixenish  mare  well 
fed  and  well  littered  down,  and  eaten  every  bit  of  the  nice  little  hot 
dinner  which  the  widow  tossed  up  for  him  with  her  own  hands,  he  just 
ordered  a  tumbler  of  it,  by  way  of  experiment.  Now  if  there  was  one 
thing  in  the  whole  range  of  domestic  art,  which  the  widow  could  manu- 
facture better  than  another,  it  was  this  identical  article  ;  and  the  first 
tumbler  was  adapted  to  Tom  Smart's  taste  with  such  peculiar  nicety, 
that  he  ordered  a  second  with  the  least  possible  delay.  Hot  punch  is 
a  pleasant  thing,  gentlemen — an  extremely  pleasant  thing  under  any 
circumstances — but  in  that  snug  old  parlour,  before  the  roaring  fire, 
with  the  wind  blowing  outside  till  every  timber  in  the  old  house 
creaked  again,  Tom  Smart  found  it  perfectly  delightful.  He  ordered 
another  tumbler,  and  then  another — 1  am  not  quite  certain  whether  he 
didn't  order  another  after  that — but  the  more  he  drank  of  the  hot 
punch  the  more  he  thought  of  the  tall  man. 

*'  *  Confound  his  impudence,'  said  Tom  Smart  to  himself,  *  what 
business  has  he  in  that  snug  bar  ?  Such  an  ugly  villain  too  I '  said 
Tom.  '  If  the  widow  had  any  taste,  she  might  surely  pick  up  some 
better  fellow  than  that.'  Here  Tom's  eye  wandered  from  the  glass  on 
the  chimney-piece,  to  the  glass  on  the  table,  and  as  he  felt  himself 
becoming  gradually  sentimental,  he  emptied  the  fourth  tumbler  of 
punch  and  ordered  a  fifth. 

"  Tom  Smart,  gentlemen,  had  always  been  very  much  attached  to 
the  public  line.  It  had  long  been  his  ambition  to  stand  in  a  bar  of  his 
own,  in  a  green  coat,  knee-cords,  and  tops.  He  had  a  great  notion  of 
taking  the  chair  at  convivial  dinners,  and  he  had  often  thought  how 
well  he  could  preside  in  a  room  of  his  own  in  the  talking  way,  and  what 
a  capital  example  he  could  set  to  his  customers  in  the  drinking  depart- 
ment. All  these  things  passed  rapidly  through  Tom's  mind  as  he  sat 
drinking  the  hot  punch  by  the  roaring  fire,  and  he  felt  very  justly  and 
properly  indignant  that  the  tall  man  should  be  in  a  fairway  of  keeping 
buch  an  excellent  house,  while  he,  Tom  Smart,  was  as  far  off  from  it  as 
over.  So,  after  deliberating  over  the  two  last  tumblers,  whether  he 
hadn't  a  perfect  right  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  the  tall  man  for  having 
contrived  to  get  into  the  good  graces  of  the  buxom  widow,  Tom  Smart 


140  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

at  last  arrived  at  the  satisfactory  conclusion  that  he  was  a  very  ill-used 
and  persecuted  individual,  and  had  better  go  to  bed. 

"  Up  a  wide  and  ancient  staircase  the  smart  girl  preceded  Tom,  shading" 
the  chamber  candle  with  her  hand,  to  protect  it  from  the  currents  of 
air  which  in  such  a  rambling"  old  place  might  have  found  plenty  of 
room  to  disport  themselves  in,  without  blowing  the  candle  out,  but 
which  did  blow  it  out  nevertheless  ;  thus  affording  Tom's  enemies  an 
opportunity  of  asserting  that  it  was  he,  and  not  the  wind,  who  extin- 
guished the  candle,  and  that  while  he  pretended  to  be  blowing  it  a-light 
again,  he  was  in  fact  kissing  the  girl.  Be  this  as  it  may,  another  light 
was  obtained,  and  Tom  was  conducted  through  a  maze  of  rooms,  and  a 
labyrinth  of  passages,  to  the  apartment  which  had  been  prepared  for  his 
reception,  where  the  girl  bid  him  good  night,  and  left  him  alone. 

"  It  was  a  good  large  room  with  big  closets,  and  a  bed  which  might  have 
served  for  a  whole  boarding-school,  to  say  nothing  of  a  couple  of  oaken 
presses  that  would  have  held  the  baggage  of  a  small  army :  but  what 
struck  Tom's  fancy  most,  was  a  strange,  grim-looking,  high-backed 
chair,  carved  in  the  most  fantastic  manner,  with  a  flowered  damask 
cushion,  and  the  round  knobs  at  the  bottom  of  the  legs  carefully  tied 
up  in  red  cloth,  as  if  it  had  got  the  gout  in  its  toes.  Of  any  other 
queer  chair,  Tom  would  only  have  thought  it  was  a  queer  chair,  and 
there  v/ould  have  been  an  end  of  the  matter ;  but  there  was  something 
about  this  particular  chair,  and  yet  he  couldn't  tell  what  it  was,  so  odd 
and  so  unlike  any  other  piece  of  furniture  he  had  ever  seen,  that  it 
seemed  to  fascinate  him.  He  sat  down  before  the  fire,  and  stared  at 
the  old  chair  for  half  an  hour ; — Damn  the  chair,  it  was  such  a  strange 
old  thing,  he  couldn't  take  his  eyes  off  it. 

"  *  Well,'  said  Tom,  slowly  undressing  himself,  and  staring  at  the  old 
chair  all  the  while,  which  stood  with  a  mysterious  aspect  by  the  bed- 
side, *  I  never  saw  such  a  rum  concern  as  that  in  my  days.  Very  odd,' 
said  Tom,  who  had  got  rather  sage  with  the  hot  punch,  *  Very  odd/ 
Tom  shook  his  head  with  an  air  of  yjrofound  wisdom,  and  looked  at  the 
chair  again.  He  couldn't  make  anything  of  it  though,  so  he  got  into 
bed,  covered  himself  up  warm,  and  fell  asleep. 

"  In  about  half  an  hour,  Tom  woke  up  with  a  start,  from  a  confused 
dream  of  tall  men  and  tumblers  of  punch  :  and  the  first  object  that  pre- 
sented itself  to  his  waking  imagination  was  the  queer  chair. 

"  *  I  won't  look  at  it  any  more,'  said  Tom  to  himself,  and  he  squeezed 
his  eyelids  together,  and  tried  to  persuade  himself  he  was  going  to  sleep 
again.  No  use ;  nothing  but  queer  chairs  danced  before  his  eyes,  kick- 
ing up  their  legs,  jumping  over  each  other's  backs,  and  playing  all  kinds 
of  antics. 

"  *  I  may  as  well  see  one  real  chair,  as  two  or  three  complete  sets  of 
false  ones,'  said  Tom,  bringing  out  his  head  from  under  the  bed-clothes. 
There  it  was,  plainly  discernible  by  the  light  of  the  fire,  looking  as  pro- 
voking as  ever. 

"  Tom  gazed  at  the  chair ;  and,  suddenly  as  he  looked  at  it,  a  most 
extraordinary  change  seemed  to  come  over  it.  The  carving  of  the  back 
gradually  assumed  the  lineaments  and  expression  of  an  old,  shrivelled 


I 


THE    FICKWICK    CLUB.  141 

human  face ;  the  damask  cushion  became  an  antique,  flapped  waistcoat ; 
the  round  knobs  grew  into  a  couple  of  feet,  encased  in  red  cloth  slippers, 
and  the  whole  chair  looked  like  a  very  ugly  old  man,  of  the  previous 
century,  with  his  arms  a-kimbo.  Tom  sat  up  in  bed,  and  rubbed  his 
eyes  to  dispel  the  illusion.  No.  The  chair  was  an  ug-ly  old  gentle- 
man ;  and  what  was  more,  he  was  winkings  at  Tom  Smart. 

"  Tom  was  naturally  a  headlong-,  careless  sort  of  dog,  and  he  had  had 
five  tumblers  of  hot  punch  into  the  bargain  ;  so,  although  he  was  a  little 
startled  at  first,  he  began  to  grow  rather  indignant  when  he  saw  the  old 
gentleman  winking  and  leering  at  him  with  such  an  impudent  air.  At 
length  he  resolved  that  he  wouldn't  stand  it ;  and  as  the  old  face  still 
kept  winking  away  as  fast  as  ever,  Tom  said,  in  a  very  angry  tone — 

"  *  What  the  devil  are  you  winking  at  me  for?  ' 

*'  *  Because  I  like  it,  Tom  Smart,'  said  the  chair ;  or  the  old  gentle- 
man, whichever  you  like  to  call  him.  He  stopped  winking  though, 
when  Tom  spoke,  and  began  grinning  like  a  superannuated  monkey. 

"  '  How  do  you  know  my  name,  old  nut-cracker  face  ?  '  inquired  Tom 
Smart,  rather  staggered; — though  he  pretended  to  carry  it  off  so  well. 

" '  Come,  come  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  '  that's  not  the  way  to 
address  solid  Spanish  Mahogany.  Dam'me,  you  couldn't  treat  me 
with  less  respect  if  I  was  veneered.'  When  the  old  gentleman  said 
this,  he  looked  so  fierce  that  Tom  began  to  grow  frightened. 

"  '  I  didn't  mean  to  treat  you  with  any  disrespect,  Sir,'  said  Tom  ;  in 
a  much  humbler  tone  than  he  had  spoken  in  at  first. 

"  '  Weil,  well,'  said  the  old  fellow,  '  perhaps  not — perhaps  not. 
Tom—' 

« «  Sir— ' 

"  '  I  know  everything  about  you,  Tom ;  everything.  You're  very 
poor  Tom.' 

"  *  I  certainly  am,'  said  Tom  Smart.  '  But  how  came  you  to  know 
that  ?  ' 

"  '  Never  mind  that,'  said  the  old  gentleman  ;  <  you're  much  too  fond 
of  punch,  Tom.' 

"  Tom  Smart  was  just  on  the  point  of  protesting  that  he  hadn't  tasted 
a  drop  since  his  last  birth-day,  but  when  his  eye  encountered  that  of  the 
old  gentleman,  he  looked  so  knowing  that  Tom  blushed,  and  was  silent. 

"  *  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  *  the  widow's  a  fine  woman — 
remarkably  fine  woman — eh,  Tom  ?  '  Here  the  old  fellow  screwed  up 
his  eyes,  cocked  up  one  of  his  wasted  little  legs,  and  looked  altogether 
so  unpleasantly  amorous,  that  Tom  was  quite  disgusted  with  the  levity 
of  his  behaviour ; — at  his  time  of  life,  too  I 

" '  I  am  her  guardian,  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman. 

**  *  Are  you  ?  '  inquired  Tom  Smart. 

" '  I  knew  her  mother,  Tom,'  said  the  old  fellow ;  '  and  her  grand- 
mother.    She  was  very  fond  of  me — made  me  this  waistcoat,  Tom." 

"  *  Did  she  ?  '  said  Tom  Smart. 

" '  And  these  shoes, '  said  the  old  fellow,  lifting  up  one  of  the  red- 
loth  mufflers  ;  '  but  don't  mention  it,  Tom.  I  shouldn't  like  to  have 
it  known  that  she  was  so  much  attached  to  me.  It  might  occasion 
some  unpleasantness  in  the  family.'      When  the  old  rascal  said  this,  he 


142  POSTHUiMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


looked   so   extremely   impertinent,    that,    as    Tom    Smart    afterwards 
declared,  he  could  have  sat  upon  him  without  remorse. 

"  '  I  have  been  a  great  favourite  among  the  women  in  my  time,  Tom, 
said  the  profligate  old  debauchee  ;  '  hundreds  of  fine  women  have  sat  in 
my  lap  for  hours  together.  What  do  you  think  of  that  you  dog,  eh  ?  ' 
The  old  gentleman  was  proceeding  to  recount  some  other  exploits  of  his 
youth,  when  he  was  seized  with  such  a  violent  fit  of  creaking  that  he 
was  unable  to  proceed. 

"  '  Just  serves  you  right,  old  boy,'  thought  Tom  Smart ;  but  he  didn't 
say  anything. 

"  <  Ah  ! '  said  the  old  fellow,  *  I  am  a  good  deal  troubled  with  this 
now.  I  am  getting  old,  Tom,  and  have  lost  nearly  all  my  rails.  I 
have  had  an  operation  performed,  too — a  small  piece  let  into  my  back — 
and  I  found  it  a  severe  trial,  Tom.* 

'* '  I  dare  say  you  did,  Sir,'  said  Tom  Smart. 

" '  However/  said  the  old  gentleman,  '  that's  not  the  point.  Tom,  I 
want  you  to  marry  the  widow.' 

"  *  Me,  Sir  I'  said  Tom. 

"  '  You  ; '  said  the  old  gentleman. 

" '  Bless  your  reverend  locks,'  said  Tom — (he  had  a  few  scattered 
horse-hairs  left)—"  '  bless  your  reverend  locks,  she  wouldn't  have  me.' 
And  Tom  sighed  involuntarily,  as  he  thought  of  the  bar. 

*' '  Wouldn't  she  ?  '  said  the  old  gentleman,  firmly. 

"  '  No,  no,'  said  Tom  ;  '  there's  somebody  else  in  the  wind.  A  tall 
man — a  confoundedly  tall  man — with  black  whiskers.' 

"  '  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman  ;  *  she  will  never  have  him.' 

"  '  Won't  she  ?  '  said  Tom.  *  If  you  stood  in  the  bar,  old  gentleman, 
you'd  tell  another  story.' 

"  *  Pooh,  pooh,'  said  the  old  gentleman.     '  I  know  all  about  that.* 

"  *  About  what  ?  '  said  Tom. 

**  '  The  kissing  behind  the  door,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  Tom,'  said 
the  old  gentleman,  and  here  he  gave  another  impudent  look,  which 
made  Tom  very  wroth,  because  as  you  all  know,  gentlemen,  to  hear  an 
old  fellow,  who  ought  to  know  better,  talking  about  these  things,  is 
very  unpleasant — nothing  more  so. 

**  '  I  know  all  about  that,  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman.  *  I  have 
seen  it  done  very  often  in  my  time,  Tom,  between  more  people  than  I 
should  like  to  mention  to  you  ;  but  it  never  came  to  anything  after 
all.' 

"  *  You  must  have  seen  some  queer  things,'  said  Tom,  with  an 
inquisitive  look. 

"  '  You  may  say  that,  Tom,'  replied  the  old  fellow,  with  a  very  com- 
plicated wink.  '  I  am  the  last  of  my  family.  Torn,'  said  the  old  gentle- 
man, with  a  melancholy  sigh. 

"  Was  it  a  large  one  ?  '  inquired  Tom  Smart. 

"  '  There  were  twelve  of  us,  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman  ;  fine 
straight-backed,  handsome  fellows  as  you'd  wish  to  see.  None  of  your 
modern  abortions — all  wdth  arms,  and  with  a  degree  of  polish,  though  I 
say  it  that  should  not,  which  it  would  have  done  your  heart  good  to 
behold.' 


I 

1 


THE    PICKV^ICK    CLUB.  143 

«'  *  And  what's  become  of  the  others,  Sir?  *  asked  Tom  Smart. 

*'  The  old  gentleman  applied  his  elbow  to  his  eye  as  he  replied, 
*  Gone,  Tom,  gone.  We  had  hard  service,  Tom,  and  they  hadn't  all 
my  constitution.  They  got  rheumatic  about  the  legs  and  arms,  and 
went  ijito  kitchens  and  other  hospitals  ;  and  one  of  'era,  with  long  ser- 
vice and  hard  usage,  positively  lost  his  senses: — he  got  so  crazy  that 
he  was  obliged  to  be  burnt.     Shocking  thing  that,  Tom.* 

"  '  Dreadful ! '  said  Tom  Smart. 

"  The  old  fellow  paused  for  a  few  minutes,  apparently  struggling 
with  his  feelings  of  emotion,  and  then  said, 

"  *  However,  Tom,  I  am  wandering  from  the  point.  This  tall  man, 
Tom,  is  a  rascally  adventurer.  The  moment  he  married  the  widow,  he 
would  sell  off  all  the  furniture,  and  run  away.  What  would  be  the 
consequence?  She  would  be  deserted  and  reduced  to  ruin,  and  I 
should  catch  my  death  of  cold  in  some  broker's  shop.' 

"'  Yes,  but—' 

"*  Don't  interrupt  me/  said  the  old  gentleman.  *  Of  you,  Tom,  I 
entertain  a  very  different  opinion  ;  for  I  well  know  that  if  you  once  set- 
tled yourself  in  a  public  house,  you  would  never  leave  it,  as  long  as  there 
was  anything  to  drink  within  its  walls.' 

"  *  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  good  opinion,  Sir,'  said 
Tom  Smart. 

"  *  Therefore,'  resumed  the  old  gentleman,  in  a  dictatorial  tone  ;  *  you 
shall  have  her,  and  he  shall  not.* 

" '  What  is  to  prevent  it  ? '  said  Tom  Smart,  eagerly. 

"*This  disclosure,'  replied  the  old  gentleman;  *  he  is  already 
married.' 

"  *  How  can  I  prove  it  ? '  said  Tom,  starting  half  out  of  bed. 

"  The  old  gentleman  untucked  his  arm  from  his  side,  and  having 
pointed  to  one  of  the  oaken  presses,  immediately  replaced  it,  in  its  old 
position. 

*'  '  He  little  thinks/  said  the  old  gentleman,  *  that  in  the  right  hand 
pocket  of  a  pair  of  trousers  in  that  press,  he  has  left  a  letter,  entreating 
him  to  return  to  his  disconsolate  wife,  with  six — mark  me,  Tom — six 
babes,  and  all  of  them  small  ones.' 

"  As  the  old  gentleman  solemnly  uttered  these  words,  his  features  grew 
less  and  less  distinct,  and  his  figure  more  shadowy.  A  film  came  over 
Tom  Smart's  eyes.  The  old  man  seemed  gradually  blending  into  the 
chair,  the  damask  waistcoat  to  resolve  into  a  cushion,  the  red  slippers  to 
shrink  into  little  red  cloth  bags.  The  light  faded  gently  away,  and  Tom 
Smart  fell  back  on  his  pillow,  and  dropped  asleep. 

"  Morning  roused  Tom  from  the  lethargic  slumber,  into  which  he  had 
fallen  on  the  disappearance  of  the  old  man.  He  sat  up  in  bed,  and  for 
some  minutes  vainly  endeavoured  to  recal  the  events  of  the  preceding 
night.  Suddenly  they  rushed  upon  him.  He  looked  at  the  chair, 
it  was  a  fantastic  and  grim-looking  piece  of  furniture,  certainly,  but  ic 
must  have  been  a  remarkably  ingenious  and  lively  imagination,  that 
could  have  discovered  any  resemblance  between  it  and  an  old  man. 

"  *  How  are  you,  old  boy  ?  '  said  Tom.  He  was  bolder  in  the  day- 
light— most  men  are. 


144  posTHur/fOus  papers  of 

"  The  chair  remained  motionless,  and  spoke  not  a  word. 

'^  *  Miserable  morning,'  said  Tom.  No.  The  chair  would  not  be 
drawn  into  conversation. 

"  '  Which  press  did  you  point  to  ? — you  can  tell  me  that,'  said  Tom. 
Devil  a  word,  gentlemen,  the  chair  would  say. 

"  '  It's  not  much  trouble  to  open  it,  any  how/  said  Tom,  getting  out 
of  bed  very  deliberately.  He  walked  up  to  one  of  the  presses.  The 
key  was  in  the  lock ;  he  turned  it,  and  opened  the  door.  There  was  a 
pair  of  trousers  there.  He  put  his  hand  into  the  pocket,  and  drew  forth 
the  identical  letter  the  old  gentleman  had  described  ! 
,  "  *  Queer  sort  of  thing,  this,'  said  Tom  Smart ;  looking  first  at  the 
chair  and  then  at  the  press,  and  then  at  the  letter,  and  then  at  the 
chair  again.  ^  Very  queer/  said  Tom.  But  as  there  was  nothing  in 
either  to  lessen  the  queerness,  he  thought  he  might  as  well  dress  him- 
self, and  settle  the  tall  man's  business  at  once — -just  to  put  him  out  of 
his  misery. 

"  Tom  surveyed  the  rooms  he  passed  though,  on  his  way  down  stairs, 
with  the  scrutinising  eye  of  a  landlord ;  thinking  it  not  impossible,  that 
before  long,  they  and  their  contents  would  be  his  property.  The  tall 
man  was  standing  in  the  snug  little  bar,  with  his  hands  behind  him, 
quite  at  home.  He  grinned  vacantly  at  Tom.  A  casual  observer 
might  have  supposed  he  did  it,  only  to  show  his  white  teeth ;  but  Tom 
Smart  thought  that  a  consciousness  of  triumph  was  passing  through  the 
place  where  the  tall  man's  mind  would  have  been,  if  he  had  had  any. 
Tom  laughed  in  his  face ;  and  summoned  the  landlady. 

"  *  Good  morning.  Ma'am,'  said  Tom  Smart,  closing  the  door  of  the 
little  parlour  as  the  widow  entered. 

"  '  Good  morning.  Sir,'  said  the  widow.  '  What  will  you  take  for 
breakfast.  Sir  ?  '  ) 

"  Tom  was  thinking  how  he  should  open  the  case,  so  he  made  no     ^ 
answer. 

a  i  There's  a  very  nice  ham,'  said  the  widow,  *  and  a  beautiful  cold 
larded  fowl.     Shall  I  send  'em  in.  Sir  ?  ' 

"  These  words  roused  Tom  from  his  reflections.  His  admiration  of 
the  widow  increased  as  she  spoke.  Thoughtful  creature  !  Comfortable 
provider ! " 

"  *  Who  is  that  gentleman  in  the  bar.  Ma'am  ?  '  inquired  Tom. 

*' '  His  name  is  Jinkins,  Sir,'  said  the  widow,  slightly  blushing. 

"  *  He's  a  tall  man,'  said  Tom. 

"  '  He  is  a  very  fine  man,  Sir,'  replied  the  widow,  *  and  a  very  nice 
gentleman.' 

«  *  Ah  I '  said  Tom. 

"  *  Is  there  anything  more  you  want,  Sir  ?  '  inquired  the  widow,  rather 
puzzled  by  Tom's  manner. 

«  <  Why,  yes,'  said  Tom.  '  My  dear  Ma'am,  will  you  have  the  kind- 
ness to  sit  down  for  one  moment  ?  ' 

.  **  The  widow  looked  much  amazed,  but  she  sat  down,  and  Tom  sat 
down  too,  close  beside  her.  I  don't  know  how  it  happened,  gentlemen — • 
indeed  my  uncle  used  to  tell  me  that  Tom  Smart  said  he  didn't  know 
how  it  happened  either — but   somehow  or  other  the  palm  of  Tom's 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  145 

hand  fell  upon  the  back  of  the  widow's  hand,  and  remained  there  while 
he  spoke. 

'<  *  My  dear  ^Nla'am,'  said  Tom  Smart — he  had  always  a  great  notion 
of  committing  the  amiable — *'  My  dear  Ma'am,  you  de:jerve  a  very 
excellent  husband  ; — you  do  indeed.' 

"  *  Lor,  Sir ! '  said  the  widow — as  well  she  might ;  Tom's  mode  of 
commencing  the  conversation  being  rather  unusual,  not  to  say  startling, 
the  fact  of  his  never  having  set  eyes  upon  her  before  the  previous 
night,  being  taken  into  consideration.     '  Lor,  Sir  I ' 

"  '  I  scorn  to  flatter,  my  dear  Ma'am,'  said  Tom  Smart.  *  You 
deserve  a  very  admirable  husband,  and  whoever  he  is,  he'll  be  a  very 
lucky  man.'  As  Tom  said  this,  his  eye  involuntarily  wandered  froai 
the  widow's  face  to  the  comforts  around  him. 

"  The  widow  looked  more  puzzled  than  ever,  and  made  an  effort  to 
rise.  Tom  gently  pressed  her  hand,  as  if  to  detain  her,  and  she  kept 
her  seat.  Widows,  gentlemen,  are  not  usually  timorous,  as  my  uncle 
used  to  say. 

"  *  I  am  sure  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you.  Sir,  for  your  good 
opinion,'  said  the  buxom  landlady,  half  laughing ;  '  and  if  ever  1  marry 
again ' — 

''  *  Ifi'  said  Tom  Smart,  looking  very  shrewdly  out  at  the  right-hand 
corner  of  his  left  eye.     '  If'-^ 

"  *  Well/  said  the  widow,  laughing  outright  this  time.  "  When  I 
do,  I  hope  I  shall  have  as  good  a  husband  as  you  describe.' 

"  '  Jinkins  to  wit,'  said  Tom. 

"  *  Lor,  Sir !  '  exclaimed  the  widow. 

"  *  Oh,  don't  tell  me,'  said  Tom, '  I  know  him.' 

"  *  I  am  sure  nobody  who  knows  him,  knows  anything  bad  of  him,'  said 
the  widow,  bridling  up  at  the  mysterious  air  with  which  Tom  had  spoken. 

"  '  Hem,'  said  Tom  Smart. 

"  The  widow  began  to  think  it  was  high  time  to  cry,  so  she  took  out 
her  handkerchief,  and  inquired  whether  Tom  wished  to  insult  her, 
whether  he  thought  it  like  a  gentleman  to  take  away  the  character  of 
another  gentleman  behind  his  back,  why,  if  he  had  got  anything  to  pay, 
he  didn't  say  it  to  the  man,  like  a  man,  instead  of  terrifying  a  poor  weak 
woman  in  that  way;  and  so  forth. 

"  *  I'll  say  it  to  him  fast  enough,'  said  Tom,  '  only  I  want  you  to 
hear  it  first.' 

"  *  What  is  it  ? '  inquired  the  widow,  looking  intently  in  Tom's  coun- 
tenance. 

"  *  I'll  astonish  you,'  said  Tom,  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket. 

**  *  If  it  is,  that  he  wants  money,'  said  the  widow,  *  I  know  that 
already,  and  you  needn't  trouble  yourself.' 

"  '  Pooh,  nonsense,  that's  nothing,'  said  Tom  Smart, ;  '  /want  money 
'Tan't  that. 

"  *  Oh  deai^  what  can  it  be?'  exclaimed  the  poor  widow. 

"  '  Don't  be  frightened,'  said  Tom  Smart.  He  slowly  drew  fortli 
the  letter,  and  unfolded  it.    *  You  won't  scream? '  said  Tom,  doubtfully. 

"  *  No,  no,'  replied  the  widow ;  '  let  me  see  it.' 

"  *  You  won't  go  fainting  away,  or  any  of  that  nonsense  ? '  said  Tom. 


146  POSTHUxMOTTS    PAIERS    OF 

*'  *  No,  no,'  returned  the  widow,  hastily. 

'*  *  And  don't  run  out,  and  blow  him  up/  said  Tom,  *  because  I'll  do 
all  that  for  you ;  you  had  better  not  exert  yourself.' 

"  *  Well,  well/  said  the  widow,  *  let  me  see  it.' 

"  *  I  will/  replied  Tom  Smart;  and,  with  these  words,  he  placed  the,; 
letter  in  the  widow's  hand. 

<*  Gentlemen,  I  have  heard  my  uncle  say,  that  Tom  Smart  said,  the 
widow's  lamentations  when  she  heard  the  disclosure  would  have  pierced 
a  heart  of  stone.  Tom  was  certainly  very  tender-hearteeil,  but  they 
pierced  his,  to  the  very  core.  The  widow  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  and 
wrung-  her  hands. 

"  '  Oh,  the  deception  and  villainy  of  the  man  ! '  said  the  widow. 

<i  i  Frightful,  my  dear  Ma'am;  but  compose  yourself,'  said  Tom  Smart. 

"  *  Oh,  I  can't  compose  myself/  shrieked  the  widow.  *  I  shall  never 
find  any  one  else  I  can  love  so  much  !  * 

"  '  Oh  yes  you  will,  my  dear  soul,'  said  Tom  Smart,  letting  fall  a 
shower  of -the  largest-sized  tears,  in  pity  for  the  widow's  misfortunes. 
Tom  Smart,  in  the  energy  of  his  compassion,  had  put  his  arm  round 
the  widow's  waist ;  and  the  widow,  in  a  passion  of  grief,  had  clasped 
Tom's  hand.  She  looked  up  in  Tom's  face,  and  smiled  through  her 
tears.     Tom  looked  down  in  her's,  and  smiled  through  his. 

''  I  never  could  find  out,  gentlemen,  whether  Tom  did  or  did  not  kiss 
the  widow  at  that  particular  moment.  He  used  to  tell  my  uncle  he 
didn't,  but  I  have  my  doubts  about  it.  Between  ourselves,  gentlemen, 
I  rather  think  he  did. 

"  At  all  events,  Tom  kicked  the  very  tall  man  out  at  the  front  door 
half  an  hour  after,  and  married  the  widow  a  month  after.  And  he  used 
to  drive  about  the  country,  with  the  clay-coloured  gig  with  the  red 
wheels,  and  the  vixenish  mare  with  the  fast  pace,  till  he  gave  up  busi- 
ness many  years  afterwards,  and  went  to  France  with  his  wife  ;  and  then 
the  old  house  was  pulled  down." 


"  Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you,"  said  the  inquisitive  old  gentleman^ 
"  what  became  of  the  chair  ?  " 

"  Why,"  replied  the  one-eyed  bagman,  ''  it  was  observed  to  creak 
very  much  on  the  day  of  the  wedding ;  but  Tom  Smart  couldn't  say 
for  certain,  whether  it  was  with  pleasure  or  bodily  infirmity.  He  rather 
thought  it  was  the  latter,  though,  for  it  never  spoke  afterwards." 

"  Everybody  believed  the  story,  didn't  they  ? "  said  the  dirty-faced 
man,  re-filhng  his  pipe. 

"  Except  Tom's  enemies,"  replied  the  bagman.  "  Some  of  'em  said 
Tom  invented  it  altogether;  and  others  said  he  was  drunk,  and  fancied 
it,  and  got  hold  of  the  wrong  trousers  by  mistake  before  he  went  to 
bed.     But  nobody  ever  minded  what  they  said." 

*'  Tom  Smart  said  it  was  all  true  ?  " 

"  Every  word." 

*'  And  your  uncle  ?  " 

"  Every  letter." 

"  They  must  have  been  nice  men,  both  of 'em;"  said  the  dirty-feced  man. 

*'  Yes,  they  were,"  replied  the  bagman;  '<  very  nice  men  indeed  I" 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  147 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IN  WHICH  IS  GIVPN  A  FAITHFUL  PORTRAITURE  OF  TWO  DISTIN- 
GUISHED PERSONS  ;  AND  AN  ACCURATE  DESCRIPTION  OF  A  PUBLIC 
BREAKFAST  IN  THEIR  HOUSE  AND  GROUNDS:  WHICH  PUBLIC 
BREAKFAST,  LEADS  TO  THE  RECOGNITION  OF  AN  OLD  ACQUAINT- 
ANCE,   AND    THE  COiMMENCEMENT    OF    ANOTHER    CHAPTER. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  conscience  had  been  somewhat  reproaching  him,  for 
his  recent  neglect  of  his  friends  at  the  Peacock  ;  and  he  was  just  on  the 
point  of  walking  forth  in  quest  of  them,  on  the  third  morning  after  the 
election  had  terminated,  when  his  faithful  valet  put  into  his  hand  a 
card,  on  which  was  engraved  the  following  inscription. 

iWrs.  Hefi  l^nnter. 

The  Den.     EatanswilL 

"  Person's  a  waitin',"  said  Sam,  epigrammatically. 

"  Does  the  person  want  me,  Sam  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*<  He  wants  you  partickler;  and  no  one  else'll  do,  as  the  Devil's 
private  secretary  said,  ven  he  fetched  avay  Doctor  Faustus,"  replied 
Mr.  Weller. 

"  He.     Is  it  a  gentleman  ?  "said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  A  wery  good  imitation  o'  one,  if  it  an't,"  replied  Mr.  Welbr. 

"  But  this  is  a  lady's  card,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Given  me  by  a  gen'lm'n,  hows'ever,"  replied  Sam,  *'  and  he's  a 
waitin'  in  the  drawing-room — said  he'd  rather  wait  all  day,  than  not  see 
you." 

Mr.  Pickwick  on  hearing  this  determination,  descended  to  the 
drawing-room,  where  sat  a  grave  man,  who  started  up  on  his  entrance, 
and  said,  with  an  air  of  profound  respect — 

"  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  presume  ?  " 

*^  The  same." 

"  Allow  me.  Sir,  the  honour  of  grasping  your  hand — permit  me  Sir, 
to  shake  it,"  said  the  grave  man. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

The  stranger  shook  the  extended  hand,  and  then  continued. 

'*  We  have  heard  of  your  fame.  Sir.  The  noise  of  your  antiquarian 
discussion  has  reached  the  ears  of  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter — my  wife.  Sir:  / 
am  Mr.  Leo  Hunter " — the  stranger  paused,  as  if  he  expected  that 
Mr.  Pickwick  would  be  overcome  by  the  disclosure  ;  but  seeing  that  he 
remained  perfectly  calm,  proceeded. 

"  My  wife,  Sir — Mrs.  Leo  Hunter — is  proud  to  number  among  her 
acquaintance,  all  those  who  have  rendered  themselves  celebrated  by 
their  works  and  talents.    Permit  me,  Sir,  to  place  in  a  conspicuous  part 

o 


14H  I'OSTHUAJOUS    PAPERS    OF 

of  the  list,  the  name  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  his  brother  members  of  the 
chib  that  derives  its  name  from  him." 

"  I  shall  be  extremely  happy  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  such  a 
lady.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  You  shall  make  it,  Sir,"  said  the  grave  man.  "  To-morrow  morning, 
Sir,  we  give  a  public  breakfast — a  fete  champetre — to  a  great  number  of 
those  who  have  rendered  themselves  celebrated  by  theii  works  and 
talents.  Permit  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  Sir,  to  have  the  gratification  of 
seeing  you  at  the  Den." 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  has  many  of  these  breakfasts,  Sir,"  resumed  the 
new  acquaintance — "  '  Feasts  of  reason.  Sir,  and  flows  of  soul,'  as  some- 
body who  wrote  a  sonnet  to  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  on  her  breakfasts,  feel- 
ingly and  originally  observed." 

"  Was  he  celebrated  for  his  works,  and  talents  ?  "  inquired  Mr 
Pickwick. 

♦*  He  was,  Sir,"  replied  the  grave  man,  "  all  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's 
acquaintance  are  ;  it  is  her  ambition,  Sir,  to  have  no  other  acquain- 
tance." 

"  It  is  a  very  noble  ambition,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  When  I  inform  Mrs.  Leo  Hanter,  that  that  remark  fell  from  7/our 
lips.  Sir,  she  will  indeed  be  proud,"  said  the  grave  man.  '*  You  have  a 
gentleman  in  your  train,  who  has  produced  some  beautiful  little  poems, 
I  think.  Sir." 

*'  My  friend  Mr.  Snodgrass  has  a  great  taste  for  poetry,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

*'  So  has  Mrs,  Leo  Hunter,  Sir.  She  dotes  on  poetry.  Sir.  She 
adores  it;  I  may  say  that  her  whole  soul  and  mind  are  wound  up,  and 
entwined  with  it.  She  has  produced  some  delightful  pieces,  herself, 
►Sir.     You  may  have  met  with  her  '  Ode  to  an  expiring  Frog,'  Sir." 

"  I  don't  think  I  have,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"You  astonish  me.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Leo  Hunter.  "It  created  an 
immense  sensation.  It  was  signed  with  an  *L'  and  eight  stars,  and 
appeared  originally  in  a  Lady's  Magazine.     It  commenced 

"  Can  I  view  thee  panting,  lying 
On  thy  stomach,  wthout  sighing; 
Can  I  unmoved  see  thee  dying 

On  a  log, 
Expiring  fi'og !'' 

"  Beautiful !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Fine,"  said  Mr.  Leo  Hunter,  ''  so  simple." 

"  Very,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'*  The  next  verse  is  still  more  touching.     Shall  I  repeat  it  ?  " 

"If  you  please,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  It  runs  thus,"  said  the  grave  man,  still  more  gravely. 

"  Say,  have  fiends  in  shape  of  boys, 
With  wild  halloo,  and  brutal  noise, 
Hunted  thee  from  marshy  joys, 

With  a  dog, 
Expiring  frog ! " 


THE    PICK'vS'ICK    CLUE.  149 

"  Finely  expressed,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

**  All  point,  Sir,  all  point,"  said  Mr,  Leo  Hunter,  ''  l*ut  you  bliail 
hear  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  repeat  it.  She  can  do  justice  to  it,  Sir.  She 
will  repeat  it,  in  character,  Sir,  to-morrow  morning-." 

*'  In  character !  " 

"  As  Minerva.     But  1  forgot — it's  a  fancy  dress  dejeune." 

''  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  glancing-  at  his  own  figure — "  I  can't 
possibly  " — 

"  Can't  Sir  ;  can't !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Leo  Hunter.  "  Solomon  Lucas 
the  Jew  in  the  High  Street,  has  thousands  of  fancy  dresses.  Consider, 
Sir,  how  many  appropriate  characters  are  open  for  your  selection. 
Plato,  Zeno,  Epicurus,  Pythagoras— all  founders  of  clubs." 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  *'  but  as  I  cannot  put  myself  in 
competition  with  those  great  men,  I  cannot  presume  to  wear  their 
dresses." 

The  grave  man  considered  deeply,  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  said, 

"  On  reflection.  Sir,  I  don't  know  whether  it  would  not  afford  Mrp. 
Leo  Hunter  greater  pleasure,  if  her  guests  saw  a  gentleman  of  your 
celebrity  in  his  own  costume,  rather  than  in  an  assumed  one.  I  may 
venture  to  promise  an  exception  in  your  case,  Sir — yes,  I  am  quite 
certain  that  on  behalf  of  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  I  may  venture  to  do  so." 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  '^  I  shall  have  great  pleasure  in 
coming." 

"  But  I  waste  your  time.  Sir,"  said  the  grave  man,  as  if  suddenly- 
recollecting  himself.  '*  I  know  its  value.  Sir.  I  will  not  detain  you.  I 
may  tell  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  then,  that  she  may  confidently  expect  you 
and  your  distinguished  friends?  Good  morning,  Sir,  I  am  proud  to 
have  beheld  so  eminent  a  personage — not  a  step.  Sir;  not  a  word." 
And  without  giving  Mr.  Pickwick  time  to  offer  remonstrance  or  denial 
Mr.  Leo  Hunter  stalked  gravely  away. 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  up  his  hat,  and  repaired  to  the  Peacock,  but  Mr. 
Winkle  had  conveyed  the  intelligence  of  the  fancy  ball  there,  before 
him. 

"  Mrs.  Pott's  going,"  were  the  first  words  with  which  he  saluted  his 
leader. 

"  Is  she  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  As  Apollo,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  "  Only  Pott  objects  to  the 
tunic." 

"  He  is  right.     He  is  quite  right,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  emphatically. 

"  Yes ; — so  she's  going  to  wear  a  white  satin  gown  with  gold 
spangles." 

"  They'll  hardly  know  what  she's  meant  for  ;  will  they  ?  "  inquired 
Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Of  course  they  will,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle  indignantly.  "  They'll 
see  her  lyre,  won't  they  ?  *' 

"  True  ; "  I  forgot  that,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  I  shall  go  as  a  Bandit,"  interposed  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  What !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  sudden  start. 

"  As  a  bandit,"  repeated  INIr.  Tupman,  mildly. 

o  2 


J  50  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  g-azing;  with  solemn 
sternness  at  his  friend,"  You  don't  mean  to  say,  Mr.  Tup  man,  that 
it  is  your  intention  to  put  yourself  into  a  ?reen  velvet  jacket,  with  a 
two- inch  tail  ?  " 

*'  Such  is  my  intention,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Tupraan  warmly.  '»  And 
why  not,  Sir?" 

"  Because  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  considerably  excited — *•  Because 
you  are  too  old,  Sir." 

"  Too  old  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  And  if  any  further  ground  of  objection  be  wanting-,"  continued  Mr. 
Pickwick,  ^'  you  are  too  fat.  Sir." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  his  face  suffused  with  a  crimson  glow, 
*'  This  is  an  insult." 

"  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  same  tone,  "  It  is  not  half  the 
insult  to  you,  that  your  appearance  in  my  presence  in  a  green  velvet 
jacket,  with  a  two-inch  tail,  would  be  to  me." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  "  you're  a  fellow." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  you're  another  !  " 

Mr.  Tupman  advanced  a  step  or  two,  and  glared  at  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Mr.  Pickwick  returned  the  glare,  concentrated  into  a  focus  by  means  of 
his  spectacles,  and  breathed  a  bold  defiance.  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr. 
Winkle,  looked  on,  petrified  at  beholding  such  a  scene  between  two 
such  men. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tupraan,  after  a  short  pause,  speaking  in  a  low,  deep 
voice,  "  you  have  called  me  old." 

•'  I  have,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  And  fat." 

*'  I  reiterate  the  charge." 

"  And  a  fellow." 

"  So  you  are  I  " 

There  was  a  fearful  pause. 

"  My  attachment  to  your  person.  Sir,"  said  Mr,  Tupman,  sneaking 
in  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  and  tucking  up  his  wristbands  mean- 
while, "  is  great — very  great — but  upon  that  person,  I  must  take  sum- 
mary vengeance." 

"  Come  on.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  Stimulated  by  the  exciting 
nature  of  the  dialogue,  the  heroic  man  actually  threw  himself  into  a 
paralytic  attitude,  confidently  supposed  by  the  two  by-standers  to  have 
been  intended  as  a  posture  of  defence. 

**  What !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Snodgrass,  suddenly  recovering  the  power 
of  speech,  of  which  intense  astonishment  had  previously  bereft  him, 
and  rushing  between  the  two,  at  the  imminent  hazard  of  receiving  an 
application  on  the  temple  from  each.  "  What !  Mr.  Pickwick,  with 
the  eyes  of  the  world  upon  you  !  Mr.  Tupman  I  who,  in  common  with 
us  all,  derives  a  lustre  from  his  undying  name  !  For- shame,  gentlemen  ; 
for  shame." 

The  unwonted  lines  which  momentary  passion  had  ruled  in  Mr. 
Pickwick's  ckar  and  open  brow,  gradually  melted  away,  as  his  young 
friend"  spoke,  like  the  marks  of  a  black-lead  pencil  beneath  the  soften- 


I 


THE     PICKWICK    CLUB.  151 

ing  influence  of  India  rubber.     His  countenance  had  resumed  it«  usual 
benign  expression  ere  he  concluded. 

"  I  have  been  hasty,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  very  hasty.  Tupman  ; 
your  hand." 

The  dark  shadow  passed  from  Mr.  Tupman 's  face,  as  he  warmly 
grasped  the  hand  of  his  friend. 

"  1  have  been  hasty,  too,"  said  he. 

**  No,  no,"  interrupted  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  the  fault  was  mine.  You 
will  wear  the  green  velvet  jacket  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman. 

*'  To  oblige  me,  you  will,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Well,  well,  I  will,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

It  was  accordingly  settled  that  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  should  all  wear  fancy  dresses.  Thus  Mr.  Pickwick  was  led 
by  the  very  warmth  of  his  own  good  feelings  to  give  his  consent  to  a 
proceeding  from  which  his  better  judgment  would  have  recoiled— a 
more  striking  illustration  of  his  amiable  character  could  hardly  have 
been  conceived,  even  if  the  events  recorded  in  these  pages  had  been 
wholly  imaginary. 

Mr.  Leo  Hunter  had  not  exaggerated  the  resources  of  Mr.  Solomon 
Lucas.  His  wardrobe  was  extensive — very  extensive — not  strictly 
classical  perhaps,  nor  quite  new,  nor  did  it  contain  any  one  garment 
made  precisely  after  the  fashion  of  any  age  or  time,  but  every  thing  was 
more  or  less  spangled  ;  and  what  can  be  prettier  than  spangles  ?  It 
may  be  objected  that  they  are  not  adapted  to  the  daylight,  but  everybody 
knows  that  they  would  glitter  if  there  were  lamps  ;  and  nothing  can  be 
clearer  than  that  if  people  give  fancy  balls  in  the  day-time,  and  the 
dresses  do  not  show  quite  as  well  as  they  would  by  night,  the  fault  lies 
solely  with  the  people  who  give  the  fancy  balls,  and  is  in  no  wise 
chargeable  on  the  spangles.  Such  was  the  convincing  reasoning  of 
Mr.  Solomon  Lucas ;  and  influenced  by  such  arguments  did  Mr. 
Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  engage  to  array  themselves 
in  costumes  which  his  taste  and  experience  induced  him  to  recommend 
as  admirably  suited  to  the  occasion. 

A  carriage  was  hired  from  the  Town  Arms,  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  Pickwickians,  and  a  chariot  was  ordered  from  the  same  repository, 
for  the  purpose  of  conveying  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pott  to  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's 
grounds,  which  Mr.  Pott,  as  a  delicate  acknowledgment  of  having 
received  an  invitation,  had  already  confidently  predicted  in  the  Eatanswill 
Gazette  "  would  present  a  scene  of  varied  and  delicious  enchantment — 
a  bewildering  coruscation  of  beauty  and  talent — ^a  lavish  and  prodigal 
display  of  hospitality — above  all,  a  degree  of  splendour  softened  by  the 
Jbost  exquisite  taste ;  and  adornment  refined  with  perfect  harmony  and 
the  chastest  good-keeping — compared  with  which,  the  fabled  gorgeous- 
ness  of  Eastern  Fairy  Land  itself,  would  appear  to  be  clothed  in  as  many 
dark  and  murky  colours,  as  must  be  the  mind  of  the  splenetic  and  unmanly 
being  who  could  presume  to  taint  with  the  venom  of  his  envy,  the 
preparations  making  by  the  virtuous  and  highly  distinguished  lady,  at 
whose  shrine  this  humble  tribute  of  admiration  was  offered."     This  last 


162  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

was  a  piece  of  biting  sarcasm  against  the  Independent,  who  in  conse- 
quence of  not  having  been  invited  at  all,  had  been  through  four  numbers 
affecting  to  sneer  at  the  whole  affair,  in  his  very  largest  type,  with  all 
the  adjectives  in  capital  letters. 

The  morning  came  ;  it  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  behold  Mr.  Tupman  in 
full  Brigand's  costume,  with  a  very  tight  jacket,  sitting  like  a  pincushion 
over  his  back  and  shoulders  :  the  upper  portion  of  his  legs  encased  in  the 
velvet  shorts,  and  the  lower  part  thereof  swathed  in  the  complicated 
bandages  to  which  all  Brigands  are  peculiarly  attached.  It  was  pleasing 
to  see  his  open  and  ingenuous  countenance,  well  mustachioed  and  corked, 
looking  out  from  an  open  shirt  collar ;  and  to  contemplate  the  sugar-loaf 
hat,  decorated  with  ribbons  of  all  colours,  which  he  was  compelled  to 
carry  on  his  knee,  inasmuch  as  no  known  conveyance  with  a  top  to  it, 
would  admit  of  any  man's  carrying  it  between  his  head  and  the  roof. 
Equally  humourous  and  agreeable,  was  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Snodgrass 
in  blue  satin  trunks  and  cloak,  white  silk  tights  and  shoes,  and  Grecian 
helmet,  which  everybody  knows  (and  if  they  do  not,  Mr.  Solomon 
Lucas  did)  to  have  been  the  regular,  authentic,  every-day  costume  of  a 
Troubadour,  from  the  earliest  ages  down  to  the  time  of  their  final  disap- 
pearance from  the  face  of  the  earth.  All  this  was  pleasant,  but  this 
was  as  nothing  compared  with  the  shouting  of  the  populace  when  the 
carriage  drew  up,  behind  Mr.  Pott's  chariot,  which  chariot  itself  drew 
up  at  Mr.  Pott's  door,  which  door  itself  opened,  and  displayed  the  great 
Pott  accoutred  as  a  Russian  officer  of  justice,  with  a  tremendous  knout 
in  his  hand — tastefully  typical  of  the  stern  and  mighty  power  of  the 
Eatanswill  Gazette,  and  the  fearful  lashings  it  bestowed  on  public 
offenders. 

"■  Bravo !  "  shouted  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  from  the  passage, 
when  they  beheld  the  walking  allegory. 

"  Bravo  I  "  Mr.  Pickwick  was  heard  to  exclaim,  from  the  passage. 

"  Hoo — ^roar  Pott,"  shouted  the  populace.  Amid  these  salutations, 
Mr.  Pott,  smihng  with  that  kind  of  bland  dignity  which  sufficiently 
testified  that  he  felt  his  power,  and  knew  how  to  exert  it,  got  into  the 
chariot. 

Then  there  emerged  from  the  house,  Mrs.  Pott,  who  would  have 
looked  very  like  Apollo  if  she  hadn't  had  a  gown  on  :  conducted  by  Mr. 
Winkle,  who  in  his  light  red-coat,  could  not  possibly  have  been  mis- 
taken for  any  thing  but  a  sportsman,  if  he  had  not  borne  an  equal 
resemblance  to  a  general  postman.  Last  of  all,  came  Mr.  Pickwick, 
whom  the  boys  applauded  as  loudly  as  anybody,  probably  under  the 
impression  that  his  tights  and  gaiters  were  some  remnants  of  the  dark 
ages ;  and  then  the  two  vehicles  proceeded  towards  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's, 
Mr.  Weller  (who  was  to  assist  in  waiting)  being  stationed  on  the  box 
of  that  in  which  his  master  was  seated. 

Every  one  of  the  men,  women,  boys,  girls,  and  babies,  who  were 
assembled  to  see  the  visiters  in  their  fancy  dresses,  screamed  with  delight 
and  extasy,  when  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the  Brigand  on  one  arm,  and 
the  Troubadour  on  the  other,  walked  solemnly  up  the  entrance.  Never 
were  such  shouts  heard,  as   thor^e  which  giceted  Mr.  Tupman's  efforts 


i 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


15:3 


to  fix  the  sugar-loaf  hat  on  his  head,  by  way  of  entering  the  gard.in  in 
style. 

The  preparations  were  on  the  most  delightful  scale ;  fully  realising 
the  prophetic  Pott's  anticipations  about  the  gorgeousness  of  Eastern 
Fairy-land,  and  at  once  affording  a  sufficient  contradiction  to  the 
malignant  statements  of  the  reptile  Independent.  The  grounds  were 
more  than  an  acre  and  a  quarter  in  extent,  and  they  were  tilled  with 
people  !  Never  was  such  a  blaze  of  beauty,  and  fashion,  and  literature. 
There  was  the  young  lady  who  "did"  the  poetry  in  the  Eatanswill 
Gazette,  in  the  garb  of  a  sultana,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  the  young 
gentleman  who  "  did"  the  review  department,  and  who  was  appro- 
priately habited  in  a  field  marshal's  uniform — the  boots  excepted. 
There  were  hosts  of  these  geniuses,  and  any  reasonable  person 
would  have  thought  it  honour  enough  to  meet  them.  But  more  than 
these,  there  were  half  a  dozen  lions  from  London — authors,  real  authors, 
who  had  written  whole  books,  and  printed  them  afterwards — and  here  you 
might  see  'em,  walking  about,  like  ordinary  men,  smiling,  and  talking — 
aye,  and  talking  pretty  considerable  nonsense  too,  no  doubt  with  the 
benign  intention  of  rendering  themselves  intelligible  to  the  common 
people  about  them.  Moreover,  there  was  a  band  of  music  in  pasteboard 
caps  ;  four  something-ean  singers  in  the  costume  of  their  country,  and 
a  dozen  hired  waiters  in  the  costume  of  thei7'  country — and  very  dirty 
costume  too.  And  above  all,  there  was  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  in  the  character 
of  Minerva,  receiving  the  company,  and  overflowing  with  pride  and 
gratification  at  the  notion  of  having  called  such  distinguished  individuals 
together. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick,  Ma'am,"  said  a  servant,  as  that  gentleman  approached 
the  presiding  goddess,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  the  Brigand  and 
Troubadour  on  either  arm. 

"  What — where  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  starting  up,  in  an 
affected  rapture  of  surprise. 
"  Here,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 

"  Is  it  possible  that  I  have  really  the  gratification  of  beholding  Mr. 
Pickwick  himself  I  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter. 

*'  No  other,  Ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  bowing  very  low.  ''  Per- 
mit me  to  introduce  my  friends — Mr.  Tupman — Mr.  Winkle— Mr. 
Snodgrass — to  the  authoress  of'  The  Expiring  Frog.'  " 

Very  few  people  but  those  who  have  tried  it,  know  what  a  difficult 
process  it  is,  to  bow  in  green  velvet  smalls,  and  a  tight  jacket  and  high- 
crowned-hat,  or  in  blue  satin  trunks  and  white  silks,  or  knee-cords  and 
top-boots  that  were  never  made  for  the  wearer,  and  have  been  fixed  upon 
him  without  the  remotest  reference  to  the  comparative  dimensions  of 
himself  and  the  suit.  Never  were  such  distortions  as  Mr.  Tupman's 
frame  underwent  in  his  efforts  to  appear  easy  and  graceful — never  was 
such  ingenious  posturing,  as  his  fancy-dressed  friends  exhibited. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  "  I  must  make  you  promise 
not  to  stir  from  my  side  the  whole  day.  There  are  hundreds  of  people 
here,  that  I  must  positively  introduce  you  to." 


154  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

*'  You  are  very  kind,  Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"  In  the  first  place,  here  are  my  little  girls ;  I  had  almost  forgotten 
them,"  said  Minerva,  carelessly  pointing  towards  a  couple  of  full-grown 
young  ladies,  of  whom  one  might  be  about  twenty,  and  the  other  a  year 
or  two  older,  and  who  were  dressed  in  very  juvenile  costumes — whether 
to  make  them  look  young,  or  their  mamma  younger,  Mr.  Pickwick  does 
not  distinctly  inform  us. 

"  They  are  very  beautiful,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the  juveniles  turned 
away,  after  being  presented. 

"  They  are  very  like  their  mamma,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  majestically. 
"  Oh  you  naughty    man,"  exclaimed  Mrs.    Leo    Hunter,   playfully 
tapping  the  Editor's  arm  with  her  fan  (Minerva  with  a  fan  I) 

"  Why  now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Hunter,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  who  was  trum- 
peter in  ordinary  at  the  Den,  "  you  know  that  when  your  picture  was  in 
the  Exhibition  of  the  Royal  Academy,  last  year,  everybody  inquired 
whether  it  was  intended  for  you,  or  your  youngest  daughter ;  for  you 
were  so  much  alike  that  there  was  no  telling  the  difference  between  you." 
"  Well,  and  if  they  did,  why  need  you  repeat  it,  before  strangers  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  bestowing  another  tap  on  the  slumbering  lion  of 
the  Eatanswill  Gazette. 

"  Count,  Count,"  screamed  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  to  a  well- whiskered 
individual  in  a  foreign  uniform,  who  was  passing  by. 
"Ah  !  you  want  me  ?"  said  the  Count,  turning  back. 
"  I  want  to  introduce  two  very  clever  people  to  each  other,"  said 
Mrs.  Leo  Hunter.  "  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  have  great  pleasure  in  introducing 
you  to  Count  Smorltork."  She  added  in  a  hurried  whisper  to  Mr, 
Pickwick — "  the  famous  foreigner — gathering  materials  for  his  great 
work  on  England — hem  ! — Count  Smorltork,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

Mr.  Pickwick  saluted  the  Count  with  all  the  reverence  due  to  so 
great  a  man,  and  the  Count  drew  forth  a  set  of  tablets. 

"  What  you  say,  Mrs.  Hunt  ?  "  inquired  the  Count,  smiling  graci- 
ously on  the  gratified  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  "  Pig  Vig  or  Big  Vig— what 
you  call — Lawyer — eh?  I  see — that  is  it.  Big  Vig" — and  the  Count 
was  proceeding  to  enter  Mr.  Pickwick  in  his  tablets,  as  a  gentleman  of 
the  long- robe,  who  derived  his  name  from  the  profession  to  which  he 
belonged,  when  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  interposed. 
"  No,  no,  Count,"  said  the  lady,  "  Pick-wick." 

"  Ah,    ah,  I    see,"  replied   the    Count.     "  Peek — christian    name ; 
Weeks — surname  ;  good,  ver  good.  Peek  Weeks.  How  you  do  Weeks  ?  " 
"  Quite  well,  I  thank  you,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  all  his  usual 
affability.     "  Have  you  been  long  in  England  ?  " 
"  Long — ver  long  time — fortnight — more." 
'*  Do  you  stay  here  long?  " 
*'  One  week." 

"  You  will  have  enough  to  do,"   said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smiling,  "  to 
gather  all  the  materials  you  want,  in  that  time." 
"  Eh,  they  are  gathered,"  said  the  Count. 
♦*  Indeed  !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


/"^-^ 


t 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  155 

"  They  are  here,"  added  the  Count,  tapping  his  forehead  significantly. 
"  Large  book  at  home — full  of  notes — music,  picture,  science,  potry, 
poltic  ;  all  tings." 

'*  The  word  politics,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  *'  comprises,  in  itself,  a 
difficult  study  of  no  inconsiderable  magnitude." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  Count,  drawing  out  the  tablets  again,  "  ver  good — 
fine  words  to  begin  a  chapter.  Chapter  forty-seven.  Poltics.  The 
word  poltic  surprises  by  himself — "  And  down  went  Mr.  Pickwick's 
remark,  in  Count  Smorltork's  tablets,  with  such  variations  and  additions 
as  the  Count's  exuberant  fancy  suggested,  or  his  imperfect  knowledge 
of  the  language,  occasioned. 

"  Count,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter. 

"  Mrs.  Hunt,"  replied  the  Count. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Snodgrass,  a  friend  of  Mr.  Pickwick's,  and  a  poet." 

"  Stop,"  exclaimed  the  Count,  bringing  out  the  tablets  once  more. 
"  Head,  potry — chapter,  literary  friends — name,  Snowgrass  ;  ver  good. 
Introduced  to  Snowgrass — great  poet,  friend  of  Peek  Weeks — by  Mrs. 
Hunt,  which  wrote  other  sweet  poem — what  is  that  name  ? — Frog — 
Perspiring  Frog — ver  good — ver  good  indeed."  And  the  Count  put  up 
his  tablets,  and  with  sundry  bows  and  acknowledgments  walked  away, 
thoroughly  satisfied  that  he  had  made  the  most  important  and  valuable 
additions  to  his  stock  of  information. 

"  Wonderful  man.  Count  Smorltork,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter. 

"  Sound  philosopher,"  said  Pott. 

"  Clear-headed,  strong-minded  person,"  added  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

A  chorus  of  by-standers  took  up  the  shout  of  Count  Smorltork's 
praise,  shook  their  heads  sagely,  and  unanimously  cried  "  Very  !  " 

As  the  enthusiasm  in  Count  Smorltork's  favour  ran  very  high,  his 
praises  might  have  been  sung  until  the  end  of  the  festivities,  if  the  four 
something-ean  singers  had  not  ranged  themselves  in  front  of  a  small 
apple-tree,  to  look  picturesque,  and  commenced  singing  their  national 
songs,  which  appeared  by  no  means  difficult  of  execution,  inasmuch  as  the 
grand  secret  seemed  to  be,  that  three  of  the  something-ean  singers  should 
grunt,  while  the  fourth  howled.  This  interesting  performance  having 
concluded  amidst  the  loud  plaudits  of  the  whole  company,  a  boy  forthwith 
proceeded  to  entangle  himself  with  the  rails  of  a  chair,  and  to  jump 
over  it,  and  crawl  under  it,  and  fall  down  with  it,  and  do  every  thing 
but  sit  upon  it,  and  theu  to  make  a  cravat  of  his  legs,  and  tie  them 
round  his  neck,  and  then  to  illustrate  the  ease  with  which  a  human 
being  can  be  made  to  look  like  a  magnified  toad — all  which  feats 
yielded  high  delight  and  satisfaction  to  the  assembled  spectators.  After 
which,  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Pott  was  heard  to  chirp  faintly  forth,  some- 
thing which  courtesy  interpreted  into  a  song,  which  was  all  very  classical, 
and  strictly  in  character,  because  Apollo  was  himself  a  composer,  and 
composers  can  very  seldom  sing  their  own  music  or  anybody  else's, 
either.  This  was  succeeded  by  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's  recitation  of  her 
far-famed  ode  to  an  Expiring  Frog,  which  was  encored  once,  and  would 
have  been  encored  twice,  if  the  major  part  of  the  guests,  who  thought 


156  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

it  was  high  time  to  get  something  to  eat,  had  not  said  that  it  was  per- 
fectly shameful  to  take  advantage  of  Mrs.  Hunter's  good  nature.  So 
although  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  professed  her  perfect  willingness  to  recite 
the  ode  again,  her  kind  and  considerate  friends  wouldn't  hear  of  it  on 
any  account ;  and  the  refreshment  room  being  thrown  open,  all  the 
people  who  had  ever  been  there  before,  scrambled  in  with  all  possible 
despatch  :  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's  usual  course  of  proceeding,  being,  to  issue 
cards  for  a  hundred,  and  breakfast  for  fifty,  or  in  other  words  to  feed 
only  the  very  particular  lions,  and  let  the  smaller  animals  take  care  of 
themselves. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Pott  ?"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  as  she  placed  the 
aforesaid  lions  around  her. 

<'  Here  I  am,"  said  the  editor,  from  the  very  furthest  end  of  the 
room ;  far  beyond  all  hope  of  food,  unless  something  was  done  for  him 
by  the  hostess. 

"  Won't  you  come  up  here?  " 

"  Oh  pray  don't  mind  him,"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  in  the  most  obliging 
voice — "  you  give  yourself  a  great  deal  of  unnecessary  trouble,  Mrs. 
Hunter.     You'll  do  very  well  there,  won't  yoU' — dear." 

"  Certainly — love,"  replied  the  unhappy  Pott,  with  a  grim  smile. 
Alas  for  the  knout  I  The  nervous  arm  that  wielded  it,  with  such 
gigantic  force  upon  public  characters^  was  paralysed  beneath  the  glance 
of  the  imperious  Mrs.  Pott. 

Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  looked  round  her,  in  triumph.  Count  Smorltork 
was  busily  engaged  in  taking  notes  of  the  contents  of  the  dishes ;  Mr. 
Tupman  was  doing  the  honours  of  the  lobster  salad  to  several  lionesses, 
with  a  degree  of  grace  which  no  Brigand  ever  exhibited  before ;  Mr. 
Snodgrass  having  cut  out  the  young  gentleman  who  cut  up  the  books 
for  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  was  engaged  in  an  impassioned  argument 
with  the  young  lady  who  did  the  poetry  :  and  Mr.  Pickwick  was  making 
himself  universally  agreeable.  Nothing  seemed  wanting  to  render  the 
select  circle  complete,  when  Mr.  Leo  Hunter — whose  department  on 
these  occasions,  was  to  stand  about  in  door-ways,  and  talk  to  the  less 
important  people — suddenly  called  out — 

"  My  dear;  here's  Mr.  Charles  Firz-Marshall." 

"  Oh  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  "  how  anxiously  I  have  been 
expecting  him.  Pray  make  room,  to  let  Mr.  Fitz- Marshall  pass.  Tell 
Mr.  Fitz-Marshall,  my  dear,  to  come  up  to  me  directly,  to  be  scolded 
for  coming  so  late." 

"  Coming,  my  dear  Ma'am,"  cried  a  voice,  "  as  quick  as  I  can^ 
crowds  of  people — full  room — hard  work — very." 

Mr.  Pickwick's  knife  and  fork  fell  from  his  hand.  He  stared  across 
the  table  at  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  dropped  his  knife  and  fork,  and  was 
looking  as  if  he  were  about  to  sink  into  the  ground  without  further 
notice. 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  the  voice,  as  its  owner  pushed  his  way  among  the  last 
five  and  twenty  Turks,  officers,  cavaliers,  and  Charles  the  Seconds,  that 
remained  between  him  and  the  table,  "  regular  mangle — Baker's  patent — 
not  ii  crease  in  my  coat,  after  all  this  squeezing — might   have    *  got  up 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


\57 


my  linen,  as  I  came  ulong: — ha  !  ha!  not  a  bad  idea,  lluit. — rjueer  things 
to  have  it  mangled  when  it's  upon  one,  though— trying  process— very." 

With  these  broken  words,  a  young  man  dressed  as  a  naval  officer 
made  his  way  up  to  the  table,  and  presented  to  the  astonished  Pick- 
wickians,  the  identical  form  and  features  of  Mr.  Alfred  Jing^le. 

The  offender  had  barely  time  to  take  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's  proffered 
hand,  when  his  eyes  encountered  the  indignant  orbs  of  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Hallo!  "  said  Jingle.  "  Quite  forgot — no  directions  to  postilion — 
give  'em  at  once — back  in  a  minute." 

"  The  servant,  or  Mr.  Hunter  will  do  it  in  a  moment,  Mr.  Fitz- 
Marshall,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter. 

"  No,  no— I'll  do  it— shan't  be  long — back  in  no  time,"  replied 
Jingle.     With  these  words  he  disappeared  among  the  crowd. 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you,  Ma'am,"  said  the  excited  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, rising  from  his  seat,  "  who  that  young  man  is,  and  where  he 
resides  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  gentleman  of  fortune,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mis.  Leo 
Hunter,  "  to  whom  I  very  much  want  to  introduce  you.  The  Count 
will  be  delighted  with  him.'' 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily.     "  His  residence  —  " 

"  Is  at  present  at  the  Angel  at  Bury." 

"  At  Bury?" 

"  At  Bury  St.  Edmunds,  not  many  miles  from  here.  But  dear  me, 
Mr.  Pickw  ick,  you  are  not  going  to  leave  us  :  surely  Mr.  Pickwick  you 
cannot  think  of  going  so  soon." 

But  long  before  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  bad  finished  speaking,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick had  plunged  through  the  throng,  and  reached  the  garden,  whither 
he  was  shortly  afterwards  joined  by  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  followed  his 
friend  closely. 

**  It's  of  no  use,"  said  Mr.  Tupman.     *'  He  has  gone." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  and  I  will  follow  him." 

"  Follow  him.     W^herv^?"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  To  the  Angel  at  Bury,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  speaking  very 
quickly.  "•  How  do  we  know  whom  he  is  deceiving  there  ?  He  deceived 
a  worthy  man  once,  and  we  were  the  innocent  cause.  He  shall  not  do 
it  again,  if  I  can  help  it ;  I'll  expose  him.  Sam  !  Where's  my 
servant  ?  " 

"  Here  you  are.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  W^eller,  emerging  from  a  sequestered 
spot,  where  he  had  been  engaged  in  discussing  a  bottle  of  Madeira, 
which  he  had  abstracted  from  the  break  fast -table,  an  hour  or  two  before. 
"  Here's  your  servant.  Sir.  Proud  o'  the  title,  as  the  Living  Skellinton 
said,  ven  they  show'd  him." 

'*  Follow  me  instantly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Tupman,  if  I  stay  at 
Bury,  you  can  join  me  there,  when  I  write.     Till  then,  good-bye." 

Remonstrances  were  useless.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  roused,  and  his 
mind  was  made  up.  Mr.  Tupman  returned  to  his  companions  ;  and  in 
another  hour  had  drowned  all  present  recollection  of  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle, 
or  Mr.  Charles  Fitz-Murshall,  in  an   exhilarating  quadrille  and  a  bottle 


158  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

of  champagne.  By  that  time,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sana  Weller,  perched 
on  the  outside  of  a  stage  coach,  were  every  succeeding  minute  placing 
a  less  and  less  distance  between  themselves  and  the  good  old  town  of 
Bury  Saint  Edmunds. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

TOO    FULL    OF    ADVENTURE    TO    BE   BRIEFLY    DESCRIBED. 

There  is  no  month  in  the  whole  year,  in  which  nature  wears  a  more 
beautiful  appearance  than  in  the  month  of  August.  Spring  has  many 
beauties,  and  May  is  a  fresh  and  blooming  month,  but  the  charms  of 
this  time  of  year,  are  enhanced  by  their  contrast  with  the  winter  season. 
August  has  no  such  advantage.  It  comes  when  we  remember  nothing 
but  clear  skies,  green  fields,  and  sweet-smelling  flowers — when  the 
recollection  of  snow,  and  ice,  and  bleak  winds,  has  faded  from  our  minds 
as  completely  as  they  have  disappeared  from  the  earth, — and  yet  what 
a  pleasant  time  it  is.  Orchards  and  corn-fields  ring  with  the  hum  of 
labour ;  trees  bend  beneath  the  thick  clusters  of  rich  fruit  which  bow 
their  branches  to  the  ground ;  and  the  corn,  piled  in  graceful  sheaves, 
or  waving  in  every  light  breath  that  sweeps  above  it,  as  if  it  wooed  the 
sickle,  tinges  the  landscape  with  a  golden  hue.  A  mellow  softness 
appears  to  hang  over  the  whole  earth  ;  the  influence  of  the  season  seems 
to  extend  itself  to  the  very  wagon,  whose  slow  motion  across  the 
well-reaped  field,  is  perceptible  only  to  the  eye,  but  strikes  with  no 
harsh  sound  upon  the. ear. 

As  the  coach  rolls  swiftly  past  the  fields  and  orchards  which  skirt  the 
road,  groups  of  women  and  children,  piling  the  fruit  in  sieves,  or 
gathering  the  scattered  ears  of  corn,  pause  for  an  instant  from  their 
labour,  and  shading  the  sun-burnt  face  with  a  still  browner  hand,  gaze 
upon  the  passengers  with  curious  eyes,  while  some  stout  urchin,  too 
small  to  work,  but  too  mischievous  to  be  left  at  home,  scrambles  over 
the  side  of  the  basket  in  which  he  has  been  deposited  for  security,  and 
kicks  and  screams  with  delight.  The  reaper  stops  in  his  work,  and 
stands  with  folded  arms,  looking  at  the  vehicle  as  it  whirls  past ;  and 
the  rough  cart-horses  bestow  a  sleepy  glance  upon  the  smart  coach 
team,  which  says,  as  plainly  as  a  horse's  glance  can,  "  It's  all  very  fine 
to  look  at,  but  slow  going,  over  a  heavy  field,  is  better  than  warm  work 
like  that,  upon  a  dusty  road,  after  all."  You  cast  a  look  behind  you, 
as  you  turn  a  corner  of  the  road.  The  women  and  children  have  resumed 
their  labour,  the  reaper  once  more  stoops  to  his  work,  the  cart-horses 
have  moved  on,  and  all  are  again  in  motion. 

The  influence  of  a  scene  like  this,  was  not  lost  upon  the  well-regulated 
mind  of  Mr.  Pickwick.  Intent  upon  the  resolution  he  had  formed,  of 
exposing  the  real  character  of  the  nefarious  Jingle,  in  any  quarter  in 


■> 


J 


paM^  IS^ 


\ 


THE    PICKWICK    CLDB.  159 

^hich  he  might  be  pursuing  his  fraudulent  designs,  he  sat  at  first  taci- 
turn and  contemplative,  brooding  over  the  means  by  which  his  purpose 
could  be  best  attained.  By  degrees  his  attention  grew  more  and  more 
attracted  by  the  objects  around  him  ;  and  at  last  he  derived  as  much 
enjoyment  from  the  ride,  as  if  it  had  been  undertaken  for  the  pleasantest 
reason  in  the  world. 

"  Delightful  prospect,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Beats  the  chimbley  pots,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  touching  his  hat. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  hardly  seen  anything  but  chimney-pots  and 
bricks  and  mortar,  all  your  life,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smiling. 

"  I  worn't  always  a  boots.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  shake  of  the 
head.     *'I  was  a  vagginer's  boy,  once." 

"  When  was  that  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

**  When  I  vas  first  pitched  neck  and  crop  into  the  world,  to  play  at 
leap-frog  with  its  troubles,"  replied  Sam.  "  I  vas  a  carrier's  boy  at 
J5tartin' :  then  a  vagginer's,  then  a  helper,  then  a  boots.  Now  I'm  a 
gen'lm'n's  servant.  I  shall  be  a  gen'lm'n  myself  one  of  these  days,  per- 
haps, with  a  pipe  in  my  mouth,  and  a  summer-house  in  the  back 
garden.     Who  knows  ?     /  shouldn't  be  surprised,  for  once." 

"  You  are  quite  a  philosopher,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  It  runs  in  the  family,  I  b'lieve  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "  My 
father's  wery  much  in  that  line,  now.  If  my  mother-in-law  blows  him 
up,  he  whistles.  She  flies  in  a  passion,  and  breaks  his  pipe ;  he  steps 
out,  and  gets  another.  Then  she  screams  wery  loud,  and  fahs  into 
'sterics  ;  and  he  smokes  wery  comfortably  'till  she  comes  to  agin. 
That's  philosophy  Sir,  an't  it  ?  " 

"  A  very  good  substitute  for  it,  at  all  events,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
laughing.  "  It  must  have  been  of  great  service  to  you,  in  the  course 
of  your  rambling  life,  Sam." 

"  Service  Sir,"  exclaimed  Sam.  "  You  may  say  that.  Arter  I  run 
away  from  the  carrier,  and  afore  I  took  up  with  the  vagginer,  I  had 
unfurnished  lodgin's  for  a  fortnight." 

"  Unfurnished  lodgings?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

<«  Yes — the  dry  arches  of  Waterloo  Bridge.  Fine  sleeping-place — 
vithin  ten  minutes'  walk  of  all  the  public  offices — only  if  there  is  any 
objection  to  it,  it  is  that  the  sitivation's  rayther  too  airy.  I  see  some 
queer  sights  there." 

"  Ah,  I  suppose  you  did,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  air  of  consider- 
able interest. 

*'  Sights,  Sir,"  resumed  Mr.  Weller,  "  as  'ud  penetrate  your  benevo- 
lent heart,  and  come  out  on  the  other  side.  You  don't  see  the  reg'lar 
wagrants  there  ;  trust  'em,  they  knows  better  than  that.  Young  beggars, 
male  and  female,  as  hasn't  made  a  rise  in  their  profession,  takes  up 
their  quarters  there  sometimes  ;  but  it's  generally  the  worn-out,  starving, 
houseless  creeturs  as  rolls  themselves  up  in  the  dark  corners  o'  them 
lonesome  places — poor  creeturs  as  an*t  up  to  the  twopenny  rope^" 

"  And  pray  Sam,  what  is  the  twopenny  rope  ?  "  inquired  Mr,  Pick 
wick. 


1(50  rO&THUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  The  twopenny  rope,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  *'  is  just  a  cheap 
lodgfin'house,  vere  the  beds  is  twopence  a  night/' 

"  What  do  they  call  a  bed  a  rope  for  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Bless  your  innocence.  Sir,  that  a*nt  it,"  replied  Sara,  "  Ven  the 
lady  and  gen'lm'n  as  keeps  the  Hot-el,  first  begun  business,  they  nsed 
to  make  the  beds  on  the  floor ;  but  this  wouldn't  do  at  no  price,  'cos 
instead  o'  taking  a  moderate  twopenn'orth  o'  sleep,  the  lodgers  used  to 
lie  there  half  the  day.  So  now  they  has  two  ropes,  'bout  six  foot 
apart,  and  three  from  the  floor,  which  goes  right  down  the  room  ;  and 
the  beds  are  made  of  slips  of  coarse  sacking,  stretched  across  'em." 

«  Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Well,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "  the  adwantage  o'  the  plan's  hobvious! 
At  six  o'clock  every  mornin',  they  lets  go  the  ropes  at  one  end,  and 
down  falls  all  the  lodgers.  'Consequence  is,  that  being  thoroughly 
waked,  they  get  up  wery  quietly,  and  walk  away  !  " 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  Sir,"  said  Sam,  suddenly  breaking  off"  in  his 
loquacious  discourse.     "  Is  this  Bury  Saint  Edmunds  ?  " 

*'  It  is,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

The  coach  rattled  through  the  well  paved  streets  of  a  handsome  little 
town,  of  thriving  and  cleanly  appearance,  and  stopped  before  a  large  inn 
situated  in  a  wide  open  street,  nearly  facing  the  old  abbey. 

"  And  this,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  up,  *^  is  the  Angel.  Wc 
ali-^ht  here,  Sam.  But  some  caution  is  necessary.  Order  a  private 
room,  and  do  not  mention  my  name.     You  understand." 

*'  Right  as  a  trivet.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  wink  of  intelli- 
gence ;  and  having  dragged  Mr.  Pickwick's  portmanteau  from  the  hind 
boot,  into  which  it  had  been  hastily  thrown  when  they  joined  the  coach 
at  Eatanswill,  Mr.  Weller  disappeared  on  his  errand.  A  private  room 
was  speedily  engaged  ;  and  into  it,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  ushered  without 
delay. 

"  Now  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  the  first  thing  to  be  done  is  to" — 

"  Order  dinner.  Sir,"  interposed  Mr.  Weller.     "  Its  wery  late.  Sir." 

"  Ah,  so  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  his  watch.  '*  You  are 
right,  Sam." 

"  And  if  I  might  adwise.  Sir,"  added  Mr.  Weller,  "  I'd  just  have  a 
good  night's  rest  arterwards,  and  not  begin  inquiring  arter  this  here 
deep  'un  '  till  the  mornin'.  There's  nothin'  so  refreshin'  as  sleep.  Sir, 
as  the  servant-giri  saia  afore  she  drank  the  egg-cup-full  o'  laudanum." 

"  I  think  you  are  right,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  But  I  must  first 
ascertain  that  he  is  in  the  house,  and  not  likely  to  go  away." 

"  Leave  that  to  me,  Sir,"  said  Sam.  "  Let  me  order  you  a  snug 
little  dinner,  and  make  my  inquiries  below  while  it's  a  getting  ready; 
I  could  worm  ev'ry  secret  out  o*  the  boots's  heart,  in  five  minutes." 

"  Do  so,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  :  and  Mr.  Weller  at  once  retired. 

In  half  an  hour,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  seated  at  a  very  satisfactory  dinner ; 
and  in  three-quarters  Mr.  Weller  returned  with  the  intelligence  that 
Mr.  Charles  Fitz-Marshall  had  ordered  his  private  room  to  be  retained 
for  him,  until  further  notice.     Me  was  going  to  spend  the  evening  at 


li 


IIIK    PICKWICK    CLUB.  IGI 

hoiue  private  house  in  the  neighbourhood,  had  ordered  the  boots  to  sit 
ii]>  until  his  return,  and  had  taken  his  servant  with  him. 

**  Now  Sir,"  argued  Mr.  Weller,  when  he  had  concluded  his  report, 
"  if  I  can  get  a  talk  with  this  here  servant  in  the  mornin',  he'll  tell  me 
all  his  master's  concerns." 

*'  How  do  you  know  that  ?  *'  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Bless  your  heart.  Sir,  servants  always  do."  replied  ^      A'eller. 

"  Oh,  ah,  I  forgot  that,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  Well." 

"  Then  you  can  arrange  what's  best  to  be  done,  Sir,  and  we  can  act 
accordingly." 

As  it  appeared  that  this  was  the  best  arrangement  that  could  be  made, 
it  was  finally  agreed  upon.  Mr.  Weller,  by  his  master's  permission, 
retired  to  spend  the  evening  in  his  own  way  ;  and  was  shortly  after- 
wards, elected,  by  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  assembled  company,  into 
the  tap-room  chair,  in  which  honourable  post  he  acquitted  himself  so 
much  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  gentlemen-frequenters,  that  their  roars 
of  laughter  and  approbation  penetrated  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  bed-room, 
and  shortened  the  term  of  his  natural  rest,  by  at  least  three  hours. 

Early  on  the  ensuing  morning,  Mr.  Weller  was  dispelling  all  the 
feverish  remains  of  the  previous  evening's  conviviality,  through  the 
instrumentahty  of  a  halfpenny  shower-bath  (having  induced  a  young 
gentleman  attached  to  the  stable-department,  by  the  offer  ot  that  coin, 
to  pump  over  his  head  and  face,  until  he  was  perfectly  restored),  when 
he  was  attracted  by  the  appearance  of  a  young  fellow  in  mulberry- 
:oloured  livery,  who  was  sitting  on  a  bench  in  the  yard,  reading  what 
appeared  to  be  a  hymn-book,  with  an  air  of  deep  abstraction,  but  who 
occasionally  stole  a  glance  at  the  individual  under  the  pump,  as  if  he 
took  some  interest  in  his  proceedings,  neveitheless. 

"  You're  a  rum  'un  to  look  at,  you  are,"  thought  Mr.  Weller  the 
first  time  his  eyes  encountered  the  glance  of  the  stranger  in  the  mul- 
berry-coloured suit,  who  had  a  large,  sallow,  ugly  face :  very  sunken 
eyes,  and  a  gigantic  head,  from  which  depended  a  quantity  of  lank 
black  hair.  "  You're  a  rum  'un,"  thought  Mr.  Weller ;  and  thinking 
this,  he  went  on  washing  himself,  and  thought  no  more  about  him. 

Still  the  man  kept  glancing  from  his  hymn-book  to  Sam,  and  from 
Sam  to  his  hymn-book,  as  if  he  wanted  to  open  a  conversation.  So  at 
last,  Sara,  by  way  of  giving  him  an  opportunity,  said,  with  a  famihar 
nod — 

"  How  are. you,  governor?' 

*'  I  am  happy  to  say,  I  am  pretty  well.  Sir,"  said  the  man,  speaking 
with  great  deliberation,  and  closing  the  book.  "  I  hope  you  are  the 
same.  Sir?" 

"  Why,  if  I  felt  less  like  a  walking  brandy-bottle,  I  shouldn't  be 
quite  so  staggery  this  mornin',"  replied  Sam.  "  Are  you  stoppin'  in 
this  house,  old  'un  ?" 

The  mulberry  man  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

*'  How  was  it,  you  worn't  one  of  us,  last  night?"  inquired  Sam, 
scrubbing  his  face  with  the  towel.     "  You  seem  ons  of  the  jolly  sort— 


162  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

looks  as  conwivial  as  a  live  trout  in  a  lime-basket,"  added  Mr.  Weller, 
in  an  under  tone. 
.  "  I  was  out  last  night,  with  my  master,"  replied  the  strang-er. 

"  What's  his  name?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  colourings  up  very  red 
with  sudden  excitement,  and  the  friction  of  the  towel  combined. 

"  Fitz-Marshall,"  said  the  mulberry-man. 

"  Give  us  your  hand,"  said  Mr.  W^eller,  advancing-;  «*  I  should  like 
to  know  you.     I  like  your  appearance,  old  fellow." 

"  Well,  that  is  very  strange,'*  said  the  mulberry  man,  with  great 
simplicity  of  manner.  "  I  like  your's  so  much,  that  I  wanted  to  speak 
to  you,  from  the  very  first  moment  I  saw  you  under  the  pump.'* 

"  Did  you  though  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  word.     Now,  isn't  that  curious  ?  " 

"  Wery  sing'ler,"  said  Sam,  inwardly  cong-ratulating-  himself  upon  the 
softness  of  the  stranger.     "  What's  your  name,  my  patriarch  ?" 

«  Job." 

'•  And  a  wery  good  name  it  is ;  only  one,  I  know,  that  ain't  got  a 
nickname  to  it.     What's  the  other  name  ?  " 

"  Trotter,"  said  the  stranger.     "  What  is  yours  ?  " 

Sam  bore  in  mind  his  master's  caution,  and  replied, 

''  My  name's  Walker  ;  my  master's  name's  Wilkins.  Will  you  take 
a  drop  o'  somethin'  this  mornin',  Mr.  Trotter  ?  " 

Mr.  Trotter  acquiesced  in  this  agreeable  proposal  :  and  having 
deposited  his  book  in  his  coat-pocket,  accompanied  Mr.  Weller  to  the 
tap,  where  they  were  soon  occupied  in  discussing  an  exhilarating  com- 
pound, formed  by  mixing  together,  in  a  pewter  vessel,  certain  quantities 
of  British  Hollands,  and  the  fragrant  essence  of  the  clove. 

"  And  what  sort  of  a  place  have  you  got?"  inquired  Sam,  as  he 
filled  his  companion's  glass,  for  the  second  time. 

"  Bad,"  said  Job,  smacking  his  lips,  "  Very  bad." 

"  You  don't  mean  that,"  said  Sam. 

**  I  do,  indeed.     Worse  than  that,  my  master's  going  to  be  married.", 

"  No." 

"  Yes  ;  and  worse  than  that,  too,  he's  going  to  run  away  with  an 
immense  rich  heiress,  from  boarding-school." 

*'  What  a  dragon,"  said  Sam,  refilling  his  companion's  glass.  "  It's 
some  boarding-school  in  this  town,  I  suppose,  a'nt  it  ?  " 

Now,  although  this  question  was  put  in  the  most  careless  tone  im- 
aginable, Mr.  Job  Trotter  plainly  showed,  by  gestures,  that  he  perceived 
his  new  friend's  anxiety  to  draw  forth  an  answer  to  it.  He  emptied 
his  glass,  looked  mysteriously  at  his  companion,  winked  both  of  his 
small  eyes,  one  after  the  other,  and  finally  made  a  motion  with  his  arm, 
as  if  he  were  working  an  imaginary  pump-handle  :  thereby  intimating 
that  he  (Mr.  Trotter)  considered  himself  as  undergoing  the  process  of 
being  pumped,  hy  Mr.  Samuel  Weller. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Trotter,  in  conclusion,  "  that's  not  to  be  told  to 
everybody.     That  is  a  secret — a  great  secret,  Mr.  Walker."  p 

As  the  mulberry  man  said  this,  he  turned  his  glass  upside  down,  by 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  163 

way  of  reminding  his  companion  that  he  liad  nothing  left  wherewith 
to  slake  his  thirst.  Sam  observed  the  hint ;  and  feeling  the  delicate 
manner  in  which  it  was  conveyed,  ordered  the  pewter  vessel  to  be 
refilled,  whereat  the  small  eyes  of  the  mulberry  man  glistened. 

"  And  so  it's  a  secret,"  said  Sam. 

*•  I  should  rather  suspect  it  was,"  said  the  mulberry  man,  sipping  his 
liquor,  with  a  complacent  face. 

"  I  suppose  your  raas'r's  very  rich  ?"  said  Sam. 

Mr.  Trotter  smiled,  and  holding  his  glass  in  his  left  hand,  gave  four 
distinct  slaps  on  the  pocket  of  his  mulberry  indescribables  with  his 
right,  as  if  to  intimate  that  his  master  might  have  done  the  same 
without  alarming  anybody  much  by  the  chinking  of  coin. 

"  Ah,"  said  Sam,  "  that's  the  game,  is  it  ?" 

The  mulberry  man  nodded  significantly. 

"  Well,  and  don't  you  think,  old  feller,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Weller, 
"  that  if  you  let  your  master  take  in  this  here  young  lady,  you're  a 
precious  rascal  ?  " 

*'  I  know  that,"  said  Job  Trotter,  turning  upon  his  companion  a 
countenance  of  deep  contrition,  and  groaning  slightly.  "  1  know 
that  and  that's  what  it  is  that  preys  upon  my  mind.  But  what  am 
I  to  do?" 

"  Do ! "  said  Sam  ;  "  di-wulge  to  the  missis,  and  give  up  your 
master." 

"Who'd  believe  me?"  replied  Job  Trotter.  "The  young  lady's 
considered  the  very  picture  of  innocence  and  discretion.  She'd  deny 
it,  and  so  would  my  master.  Who'd  believe  me  ?  I  should  lose  my 
place,  and  get  indicted  for  a  conspiracy,  or  some  such  thing ;  that's  all 
I  should  take  by  my  motion." 

"  There's  somethin'  in  that,"  said  Sam,  ruminating ;  "  there's  some- 
thin'  in  that." 

*'  If  I  knew  any  respectable  gentleman  who  would  take  the  matter 
up,"  continued  Mr.  Trotter,  ^'  I  might  have  some  hope  of  preventing 
the  elopement;  but  there's  the  same  difBculty,  Mr.  Walker,  just  the 
same.  I  know  no  gentleman  in  this  strange  place;  and  ten  to  one  if 
I  did,  whether  he  would  believe  my  story." 

"  Come  this  way,"  said  Sam,  suddenly  jumping  up,  and  grasping 
the  mulberry  man  by  the  arm.  "  My  raas'r's  the  man  you  want,  1  see." 
And  after  a  slight  resistance  on  the  part  of  Job  Trotter,  Sam  led  his 
newly-found  friend  to  the  apartment  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  to  whom  he 
presented  him,  together  with  a  brief  summary  of  the  dialogue  we  have 
just  repeated. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  betray  my  master,  Sir,"  said  Job  Trotter, 
applying  to  his  eyes  a  pink  check  pocket  handkei chief  of  about  three 
inches  square. 

"  The  feeling  does  you  a  great  deal  of  honour,"  replied  Mr.  Pick- 
wick ;  "  but  it  is  your  duty,  nevertheless." 

"  I  know  it  is  my  duty,  Sir,"  replied  Job,  with  great  emotion.  "  We 
should  all  try  to  discharge  our  duty,  Sir,  and  I  humbly  endeavour  to 
discharge  mine.  Sir ;    but   it  is  a  hard   trial  to  betray  a  roaster,  Sir, 

p 


164  POSTHUMOUS    PAPEKS    OF 

whose  clothes  you  wear,  and  whose  bread  you  eat,  even  though  he  is  a 
scoundrel,  Sir." 

"  You  are  a  very  good  fellow,"  said   Mr.  Pickwick,  much  affecte.l 
"  an  honest  fellow." 

"  Come,  come,"  interposed  Sara,  who  had  witnessed  Mr.  Trotter's 
tears  with  considerable  impatience,  "  blow  this  here  water  cart  bis'ness. 
It  won't  do  no  good,  this  won't." 

"  Sara,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  reproachfully,  "  I  am  sorry  to  find  that 
you  have  so  little  respect  for  this  young  man's  feelings." 

"  His  feelins  is  all  wery  well,  Sir,"  rephed  Mr.  Weller ;  "  and  as 
they're  so  wery  fine,  and  it's  a  pity  he  should  lose  'em,  I  think  he'd 
better  keep  'era  in  his  own  bussum,  than  let  'era  ewaporate  in  hot 
water,  'specially  as  they  do  no  good.  Tears  never  yet  wound  up  a 
clock,  or  worked  a  steam  ingin'.  The  next  time  you  go  out  to  a 
smoking  party,  young  feller,  fill  your  pipe  with  that  'ere  reflection  ; 
and  for  the  present,  just  put  that  bit  of  pink  gingham  into  your  pocket. 
'T'a'n't  so  handsome  that  you  need  keep  waving  it  about,  as  if  you  was 
a  tight-rope  dancer." 

"  My  man  is  in  the  right,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  accosting  Job, 
"  although  his  mode  of  expressing  his  opinion  is  somewhat  homely,  and 
occasionally  incomprehensible." 

"He  is.  Sir,  very  right,"  said  Mr.  Trotter,  "  and  I  will  giveaway  no 
longer." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Now,  where  is  this  boarding- 
school?" 

**  It  is  a  large,  old,  red-brick  house^  just  outside  the  town,  Sir," 
replied  Job  Trotter. 

"  And  when,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  when  is  this  villainous  design 
to  be  carried  into  execution — when  is  this  elopement  to  take  place?" 

"  To-night,  Sir,"  replied  Job. 

"  To-night  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  This  very  night,  Sir,"  replied  Job  Trotter.  "  That  is  what 
alarms  me  so  much." 

"  Instant  measures  must  be  taken,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  I  will 
see  the  lady  who  keeps  the  establishment,  immediately." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Sir,"  said  Job,  "  but  that  course  of  proceeding 
will  never  do." 

"  Why  not  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  My  master.  Sir,  is  a  very  artful  man." 

"  I  know  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  And  he  has  so  wound  himself  round  the  old  lady's  heart,  Sir," 
resumed  Job,  *'  that  she  would  believe  nothing  to  his  prejudice,  if  you 
went  down  on  your  bare  knees,  and  swore  it ;  especially  as  you  have 
no  proof  but  the  word  of  a  servant,  who,  for  anything  she  knows  (and 
my  master  would  be  sure  to  say  so),  was  discharged  for  some  fault,  and 
does  this,  in  revenge." 

'  What  had  better  be  done,  then  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*  Nothing  but  taking  him  in  the  very  fact  of  eloping,  will  convince 
the  old  lady,  Sir,"  replied  Job. 


llili    I'UKNVICK    CLL15.  iT.S 

''  All  tliem  old  catsi  will  nu\  their  heaiis  agin  mile-stoiifsj,"  olacrvcMl 
Mr.  Weller  in  u  ))arciith(>si<;. 

'*  But  this  taking-  him  in  the  very  act  of  elopement,  would  he  a  very 
difficult  thing  to  accomplish,  I  fear,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  don't  know,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Trotter,  alter  a  few  moments*  reflection. 
"  I  think  it  might  be  very  easily  done." 

"  Mow?"  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  inquiry. 

"  Why,"  rephed  Mr.  Trotter,  ^' my  master  and  I,  being  in  the  con- 
fidence of  the  two  servants,  will  be  secreted  in  the  kitchen  at  ten  o'clock. 
When  the  family  have  retire<l  to  rest,  we  shall  come  out  of  the  kitchen, 
iiud  the  young  lady  out  of  her  bed-room.  A  post-chaise  will  be  waiting, 
and  away  we  go," 

«  Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Well,  Sir,  I  have  been  thinking  that  if  you  were  wailing  in  the 
j:arden  behind,  alone — " 

"  Alone,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.    *'  Why  alone  ?  " 

"  1  thought  it  very  natural,"  replied  Job,  "  that  the  old  lady  wouldn't 
like  such  an  unpleasant  discovery  to  be  made  before  more  persons 
than  can  possibly  be  helped.  The  young  lady  too.  Sir — consider  her 
feelings." 

"  You  are  very  right,"  said  Mr,  Pickwick.  "  The  consideration 
evinces  great  delicacy  of  feeling.     Go  on  ;  you  are  very  right." 

"  Well  Sir,  I  was  thinking  that  if  you  were  waiting  in  the  ])ack 
garden  alone,  and  I  was  to  let  you  in,  at  the  door  which  opens  into  it, 
from  the  end  of  the  passage,  at  exactly  half-past  eleven  o'clock,  you 
would  be  just  in  the  very  moment  of  time,  to  assist  me  in  frustrating 
the  designs  of  this  bad  man,  by  whom  I  have  been  unfortunately 
ensnared."     Here  Mr.  Trotter  sighed  deeply. 

"  Don't  distress  yourself  on  that  account,"  said  Mr.  Pickv.'ick,  "  it" 
he  had  one  grain  of  the  delicacy  of  feeling  which  distinguishes  you, 
humble  as  your  station  is,  I  should  have  some  hopes  of  him." 

Job  Trotter  bowed  low  ;  and  in  spite  of  Mr.  Vv'eller's  previous  remon- 
strance, the  tears  again  rose  to  his  eyes. 

"  I  never  see  such  a  feller,"  said  Sam.  '"  Blessed  if  I  don't  tliink  he's 
got  a  main  in  his  head  as  is  always  tinned  on." 

"  Sanii"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  wjth  gieat  severity.  '^  Hold  your 
tongue." 

u  w^ny  well,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Welh-r. 

"  I  don't  like  this  plan,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  deep  meditation. 
"  Why  cannot  I  communicate  with  the  young  lady's  friends  ?  " 

"  Because  they  live  one  hundred  miles  from  here,  Sir,"  responded  Job 
Trotter. 

*'  That's  a  clincher,  said  Mr.  Weller,  aside. 

*'  Then  this  garden,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  How  am  I  to  get 
into  it  ?  "  ' 

"  The  wall  is  very  low.  Sir,  and  your  servant  will  give  you  a  leg  up.'* 

"  My  servant  will  give  me  a  leg  up,"  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick,  mecha* 
uicaliy.     '<  You  will  be  sure  to  be  near  this  door,  that  you  speak  of?  " 
-^  "  You  cannot  mistake  it,  Sir;  it's  the  only  one  that  opens  into  the 
\  V  2 


166  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

garden.     Tap  at  it,  when  you  hear  the  clock  strike,  and  I  will  open  ic 
instantly." 

**  I  don't  like  the  plan,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  '*  but  as  I  see  no  other 
and  as  the  happiness  of  this  young  lady's  whole  life  is  at  stake,  I  adopt 
it.     I  shall  be  sure  to  be  there." 

Thus,  for  the  second  time,  did  Mr.  Pickwick's  innate  good-feeling 
involve  him  in  an  enterprise,  from  which  he  would  most  willingly  have 
stood  aloof. 

"  What  is  the  name  of  the  house  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Westgate  House,  Sir.  You  turn  a  little  to  the  right  when  you  get 
to  the  end  of  the  town  ;  it  stands  by  itself,  some  little  distance  off  the 
high  road,  with  the  name  on  a  brass  plate  on  the  gate." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  *'  I  observed  it  once  before,  when 
I  was  in  this  town.     You  may  depend  upon  me." 

Mr.  Trotter  made  another  bow,  and  turned  to  depart,  when  Mr. 
Pickwick  thrust  a  guinea  into  his  hand. 

"  You're  a  fine  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  and  I  admire  your 
goodness  of  heart.     No  thanks.     Remember— eleven  o'clock." 

"  There  is  no  fear  of  my  forgetting  it.  Sir,"  replied  Job  Trotter. 
With  these  words  he  left  the  room,  followed  by  Sam. 

*'  I  say,"  said  the  latter,  "  not  a  bad  notion  that  'ere  crying.  Pd  cry 
like  a  rain-water  spout  in  a  shower,  on  such  good  terms.  How  do  you 
doit?" 

"  It  comes  from  the  heart,  Mr.  Walker,"  replied  Job  solemnly. 
"  Good  morning,  Sir." 

"  You're  a  soft  customer,  you  are ; — we've  got  it  all  out  o'  you,  any 
how' '  thought  Mr.  Weller,  as  Job  walked  away. 

We  cannot  state  the  precise  nature  of  the  thoughts  which  passed 
through  Mr.  Trotter's  mind,  because  we  don't  know  what  they  were. 

The  day  wore  on,  evening  came,  and  at  a  little  before  ten  o'clock 
Sam  Weller  reported  that  Mr.  Jingle  and  Job  had  gone  out  together, 
that  their  luggage  was  packed  up,  and  that  they  had  ordered  a  chaise, 
'^he  plot  was  evidently  in  execution,  as  Mr.  Trotter  had  foretold. 

Half-past  ten  o'clock  arrived,  and  it  was  time  for  Mr.  Pickwick  to 
issue  forth  on  his  delicate  errand.  Resisting  Sam's  tender  of  his  great 
coat,  in  order  that  he  might  hav€  no  incumbrance  in  scaling  the  wail, 
he  set  forth,  followed  by  his  attendant. 

There  was  a  bright  moon,  but  it  was  behind  the  clouds.  It  was  a 
fine  dry  night,  but  it  was  most  uncommonly  dark.  Paths,  hedges, 
fields,  houses,  and  trees,  were  enveloped  in  one  deep^hade.  The  atmo- 
sphere was  hot  and  sultry,  the  summer  lightning  quivered  faintly  on  the 
verge  of  the  horizon,  and  was  the  only  sight  that  varied  the  dull  gloom 
m  which  every  thing  was  wrapped — sound  there  was  none,  except  the 
distant  barking  of  some  restless  house-dog. 

They  found  the  house,  read  the  brass-plate,  walked  round  the  wail; 
and  stopped  at  that  portion  of  it  which  divided  them  from  the  bottom 
of  the  gardeu. 

"  You  will  return  to  the  iun,  Sam,  when  you  have  assisted  tne  over," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


THE   nCKWICK    CLl  B.  K>7 

*'  VVcry  well,  Sir." 

"  And  you  will  sit  up,  'till  I  return," 

"  Cert'nly,  Sir." 

*'  Take  hold  of  my  leg ;  and,  when  I  say  '  Over/  raise  me  gently." 

"  All  rig-ht,  Sir." 

Having  settled  these  preliminaries,  Mr.  Pickwick  grasped  the  top  of  the 
wall,  and  gave  the  word  "  Over,"  which  was  very  literally  obeyed.  Whether 
his  body  partook  in  some  degree  of  the  elasticity  of  his  mind,  or  whether 
Mr.  Weller's  notions  of  a  gentle  push  were  of  a  somewhat  rougher 
description  than  Mr.  Pickwick's,  the  immediate  effect  of  his  assistance 
was  to  jerk  that  immortal  gentleman  completely  over  the  wall  on  to  tlie 
bed  beneath,  where,  after  crushing  three  gooseberry-bushes  and  a  rose- 
tree,  he  finally  alighted  at  full  length. 

"  You  ha'n't  hurt  yourself,  I  hope,  Sir,"  said  Sam,  in  a  loud  whisper, 
as  soon  as  he  recovered  from  the  surprise  consequent  upon  the  myste- 
rious disappearance  of  his  master. 

'*  I  have  not  hurt  myself,  Sam,  certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
from  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  "  but  I  rather  think  that  you  have 
hurt  me" 

"  I  hope  not,  Sir,"  said  Sam. 

*'  Never  mind,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rising,  "  it's  nothing  but  a  few 
scratches.     Go  away,  or  we  shall  be  overheard." 

"  Good-byo,^  Sir." 

"  Good-bye." 

With  stealthy  steps  Sam  Weller  departed,  leaving  Mr.  Pickwick 
alone  in  the  garden. 

Lights  occasionally  appeared  in  the  different  windows  of  the  house, 
or  glanced  from  the  staircases,  as  if  the  inmates  were  retiring  to  rest. 
Not  caring  to  ^o  too  near  the  door,  until  the  appointed  time,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick crouched  into  an  angle  of  the  wall,  and  awaited  its  arrival. 

It  was  a  situation  which  might  well  have  depressed  the  spirits  of 
many  a  man.  Mr.  Pickwick,  however,  feit  neither  depression  nor  mis- 
giving. He  knew  that  his  purpose  was  in  the  main  a  good  one,  and  he 
placed  implicit  reliance  on  the  high-minded  Job.  It  was  dull,  certainly ; 
not  to  say,  dreary  ;  but  a  contemplative  man  can  always  employ  himself 
in  meditation.  Mr.  Pickwick  had  meditated  himself  into  a  doze,  when 
he  was  roused  by  the  chimes  of  the  neighbouring  church  ringing  out 
the  hour — half-past  eleven. 

"  That's  the  time,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  getting  cautiously  on  his 
feet.  He  looked  up  at  the  house.  The  lights  had  disappeared,  and  the 
shutters  were  closed — all  in  bed,  no  doubt.  He  walked  on  tip-toe  to 
the  door,  and  gave  a  gentle  tap.  Two  or  three  minutes  passing  with- 
out any  reply,  he  gave  another  tap  rather  louder,  and  then  another 
rather  louder  than  that. 

At  length  the  sound  of  feet  was  audible  upon  the  stairs,  and  then  the 
light  of  a  candle  shone  through  the  key-hole  of  the  door.  There  was 
a  good  deal  of  unchaining  and  unbolting,  and  the  door  was  slowly 
opened. 

Now  the  door  opened  outwards :  and  as  the  door  opened  wider  and 


JOB  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

wider,  Mr.  Pickwick  receded  behind  it,  more  and  more.  What  was  his 
astonishment  when  he  just  peeped  out,  by  way  of  caution,  to  see  that 
the  person  who  had  opened  it  was — not  Job  Trotter,  but  a  servant-ffirl 
with  a  candle  in  her  band  I  Mr.  Pickwick  drew  in  his  head  again,  with 
the  swiftness  displayed  by  that  admirable  melo-dramatic  performer, 
Punch,  when  he  lies  in  wait  for  the  flat-headed  comedian  with  the  tin 
box  of  music. 

''  It  must  have  been  the  cat,  Sarah,"  said  the  girl,  addressing  herself 
to  some  one  in  the  house.     "  Puss,  puss,  puss — tit,  tit,  tit." 

But  no  animal  being  decoyed  by  these  blandishments,  the  girl  slowly 
closed  the  door,  and  re-fastened  it ;  leaving  Mr.  Pickwick  drawn  up 
straight  against  the  wall. 

"  This  is  very  curious,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick.  **  They  are  sitting 
up,  beyond  their  usual  hour,  I  suppose.  Extremely  unfortunate,  that 
they  should  have  chosen  this  night,  of  all  others,  for  such  a  purpose  — 
exceedingly."  And  with  these  thoughts,  Mr.  Pickwick  cautiously 
retired  to  the  angle  of  the  wall  in  which  he  had  been  before  ensconced ; 
Avaiting  until  such  time  as  he  might  deem  it  safe  to  repeat  the  signal. 

He  had  not  been  here  five  minutes,  when  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning 
was  followed  by  a  loud  peal  of  thunder  that  crashed  and  rolled  away  in 
the  distance  with  terrific  noise — then  came  another  flash  of  lightning, 
brighter  than  the  other,  and  a  second  peal  of  thunder  louder  than  the 
first;  and  then  down  came  the  rain,  with  a  force  and  fury  that  swept 
every  thing  before  it. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  perfectly  aware  that  a  tree  is  a  very  dangerous 
neighbour  in  a  thunder-storm.  He  had  a  tree  on  his  right,  a  tree  on 
his  left,  a  third  before  him,  and  a  fourth  behind.  If  he  remained  where 
he  was,  he  might  fall  the  victim  of  an  accident ;  if  he  showed  himself 
in  the  centre  of  the  garden,  he  might  be  consigned  to  a  constable  ; — 
once  or  twice  he  tried  to  scale  the  wall,  but  having  no  other  legs  this 
time,  than  those  with  which  Nature  had  furnished  him,  the  only  effect 
of  his  struggles  was  to  inflict  a  variety  of  very  unpleasant  gratings 
on  his  knees  and  shins,  and  to  throw  him  into  a  state  of  the  most 
profuse  perspiration. 

"  What  a  dr(  adful  situation,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  pausing  to  wipe 
his  brow  after  this  exercise.  He  looked  up  at  the  house — all  was  dark. 
They  must  be  gone  to  bed  now.     He  would  try  the  signal  again. 

He  walked  on  tip-toe  across  the  moist  gravel,  and  tapped  at  the  door. 
He  held  his  breath,  and  listened  at  the  key-hole.  No  reply  :  very  odd. 
Another  knock.  He  listened  again.  There  was  a  low  whispering 
inside,  and  then  a  voice  cried — 

"  Who's  there  ?  " 

"  Thai's  not  Job,"  thought  M\\  Pickwick,  hastily  drawing  himself 
straight  up  against  the  wall  again.    "  It's  a  woman." 

He  had  scarcely  had  time  to  form  this  conclusion,  when  a  window 
above  stairs,  was  thrown  up,  and  three  or  four  female  voices  repeated 
the  query — "  Who's  there  ?  " 

Mr.  Pickwick  dared  not  move  hand  or  foot.  It  was  clear  that  tha 
wholn  establishment  was  roused.   He  made  up  his  mind  to  remain  vviu're 


rilE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  U)9 

he  ^^"ds,  until  the  alarm  had  subsided :  and  then  to  make  u  superuatural 
effort,  and  g:et  over  the  wall,  or  perish  in  the  attempt. 

Like  all  Mr.  Pickwick's  determinations,  this  was  the  best  that  could 
he  made  under  the  circumstances  ;  but,  unfortunately,  it  was  founded 
upon  the  assumption  that  they  would  not  venture  to  open  the  dooi 
again.  What  was  his  discomfiture,  when  he  heard  the  chain  and  bolts 
withdrawn,  and  saw  the  door  slowly  opening-,  wider  and  wider  I  He 
retreated  into  the  corner,  step  by  step  ;  hut  do  what  he  would,  the  inter- 
position of  his  own  person,  prevented  its  being-  opened  to  its  utmost 
width. 

"  Who's  there?"  screamed  a  numerous  chorus  of  treble  voices  from 
the  stair-case  inside,  consisting  of  the  spinster  lady  of  the  establish- 
ment, three  teachers,  five  female  servants,  and  thirty  boarders,  all  half- 
dressed,  and  in  a  forest  of  curl-papers. 

Of  course  Mr.  Pickwick  didn't  say  who  was  there  :  and  then  the 
burden  of  the  chorus  changed  into — ''  Lor'  I  I  am  so  frightened." 

**  Cook,"  said  the  lady  abbess,  who  took  care  to  be  on  the  top  stair, 
the  very  last  of  the  group — "  Cook,  why  don't  you  go  a  little  way  into 
the  garden  ?  " 

"  Please  ma'am,  I  don't  like,"  responded  the  cook. 

"  Lor',  what  a  stupid  thing  that  cook  is  I  "  said  the  thirty  boarders. 

"  Cook,"  said  the  lady  abbess,  with  great  dignity  ;  "  don't  answer 
me,  if  you  please.  I  insist  upon  your  looking  into  the  garden,  imme- 
diately." 

Here  the  cook  began  to  cry,  and  the  house-maid  said  it  was  ''  a 
shame  ! "  for  which  partisanship  she  received  a  month's  warning  on 
the  spot. 

"  Do  you  hear,  cook  ?  "  said  the  lady  abbess,  stamping  her  foot,  im- 
patiently. 

"  Don't  you  hear  your  missis,  cook  ?  "  said  the  three  teacners. 

^'  What  an  impudent  thing,  that  cook  is !  "  said  the  thirty  boarders. 

The  unfortunate  cook,  thus  strongly  urged,  advanced  a  step  or  two, 
and  holding  her  candle  just  where  it  prevented  her  seeing  any  thing  at 
all,  declared  there  was  nothing  there,  and  it  must  have  been  the  wind ; 
and  the  door  was  just  going  to  be  closed  in  consequence,  when  an 
inquisitive  boarder,  who  had  been  peeping  between  the  hinges,  set  up  a 
fearful  screaming,  which  called  back  the  cook  and  the  housemaid,  and 
all  the  more  adventurous,  in  no  time. 

*'  What  is  the  matter  with  Miss  Smithers  ?  "  said  the  lady  abbess,  a§ 
the  aforesaid  Miss  Smithers  proceeded  to  go  into  hysterics  of  four 
young  lady  power. 

"  Lor,  Miss  Smithers  dear,"  said  the  other  nine-and-twenty 
boarders. 

"Oh,  the  man — the  man — behind  the  door!"  screamed  Miss 
Smithers. 

The  lady  abbess  no  sooner  heard  this  appalling  cry,  than  she  retreated 
to  her  own  bed-room,  double-locked  the  door,  and  fainted  away  all  com- 
fortalxly.     The  boarders,  and  the  teachers,  and   the  servants,  fell  back 


l70  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

upon  the  stairs,  and  upon  each  other ;  and  never  was  such  a  screaming, 
and  fainting,  and  struggling,  beheld.  In  the  midst  of  the  tumult,  Mr. 
Pickwick  emerged  from  his  concealment,  and  presented  himself  amongst 
them. 

"  Ladies — dear  ladies,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Oh,  he  says  we're  dear,"  cried  the  oldest  and  ugliest  teacher.  "  Oh 
the  wretch." 

''  Ladies,"  roared  Mr.  Pickwick,  rendered  desperate  by  the  danger  of 
his  situation.  "  Hear  me.  I  am  no  robber.  I  want  the  lady  of  the 
house." 

"  Oh,  what  a  ferocious  monster !  "  screamed  another  teacher.  "  He 
wants  Miss  Tomkins." 

Here  there  was  a  general  scream. 

•'  Ring  the  alarm  bell,  somebody,"  cried  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Don't — don't,"  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Look  at  me.  Do  I 
look  like  a  robber  ?  My  dear  ladies — you  may  bind  me  hand  and  leg, 
or  lock  me  up  in  a  closet,  if  you  like.  Only  hear  what  I  have  got  to 
"ay — only  hear  me." 

"  How  did  you  come  in  our  garden  ?  "  faultered  the  house-maid. 

*'  Call  the  lady  of  the  house,  and  I'll  tell  her  everything — every- 
thing :"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  exerting  his  lungs  to  the  utmost  pitch. 
*'Call  her — only  be  quiet,  and  call  her,  and  you  shall  hear  every- 
thing." 

It  might  have  been  Mr.  Pickwick's  appearance,  or  it  might  have 
been  his  manner,  or  it  might  have  been  the  temptation — so  irresistible 
to  a  female  mind — of  hearing  something  at  present  enveloped  in  mys- 
tery, that  reduced  the  more  reasonable  portion  of  the  establishment 
(some  four  individuals)  to  a  state  of  comparative  quiet.  By  them  it 
was  proposed,  as  a  test  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  sincerity,  that  he  should 
immediately  submit  to  personal  restraint ;  and  that  gentleman  having 
consented  to  hold  a  conference  with  Miss  Tomkins,  from  the  interior 
of  a  closet  in  which  the  day  boarders  hung  their  bonnets  and  sandwich- 
bags,  he  at  once  stepped  into  it,  of  his  own  accord,  and  was  securely 
locked  in.  This  revived  the  others  ;  and  Miss  Tomkins  having  been 
brought  to,  and  brought  down,  the  conference  began. 

"  What  did  you  do  in  my  garden,  man  ?  "  said  Miss  Tomkins,  in  a 
faint  voice. 

"  I  came  to  warn  you,  that  one  of  your  young  ladies  was  going  to 
elope  to-night,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  from  the  interior  of  the  closet. 

"  Elope !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Tomkins,  the  three  teachers,  the  thirty 
boarders,  and  the  five  servants.     *'  Who  with  ?  " 

"  Your  friend,  Mr.  Charles  Fitz-Marshall." 

"  My  friend  !     I  don't  know  any  such  person." 

"  Well ;  Mr.  Jingle,  then." 

"  I  never  heard  the  name  in  my  life." 

"  Then,  I  have  been  deceived,  and  deluded,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  I 
have  been  the  victim  of  a  conspiracy — a  foul  and  base  conspiracy.  Send 
to  the  Angel,  my  dear  ma'am,  if  you  don't  believe  me.  Send  to  the 
Angel  for  Mr.  Pickwick's  man-servant,  I  implore  you  ma'am." 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB.  171 

♦'  He  must  be  respectable — he  keeps  a  man-servant,"  said  Mis3  Toiu- 
kins  to  the  writing  and  ciphering-  governess. 

"  It's  my  opinion,  Miss  Tomkins,"  said  the  writing  and  ciphering 
governess,  "  that  his  man-servant  keeps  him.  /think  he's  a  madman, 
Miss  Tomkins,  and  the  other's  his  keeper." 

*'  I  think  you  are  very  right,  Miss  Gwynn,"  responded  Miss  Tomkins. 
♦'  Let  two  of  the  servants  repair  to  the  Angel,  and  let  the  others 
remain  here,  to  protect  us." 

So  two  of  the  servants  were  despatched  to  the  Angel  in  search  of 
Mr.  Samuel  Weller:  and  the  remaining  three  stopped  behind  to  protect 
Miss  Tomkins,  and  the  three  teachers,  and  the  thirty  boarders.  And 
Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  in  the  closet,  beneath  a  grove  of  sandwich  bags, 
and  awaited  the  return  of  the  messengers,  with  all  the  philosophy  and 
fortitude  he  could  summon  to  his  aid. 

An  hour  and  a  half  elapsed  before  they  came  back,  and  when  they 
did  come,  Mr.  Pickwick  recognised,  in  addition  to  the  voice  of  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller,  two  other  voices,  the  tones  of  which  struck  familiarly 
on  his  ear ;  but  whose  they  were,  he  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  call 
to  mind. 

A  very  brief  conversation  ensued.  The  door  was  unlocked.  Mr. 
Pickwick  stepped  out  of  the  closet,  and  found  himself  in  the  presence 
of  the  whole  establishment  of  Westgate  House,  Mr.  Samuel  Weller, 
and — old  Wardle,  and  his  destined  son-in-law,  Mr.  Trundle  ! 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  running  forward  and  grasping 
Wardle's  hand,  "  my  dear  friend,  pray,  for  Heaven's  sake,  explain  to 
this  lady  the  unfortunate  and  dreadful  situation  in  which  I  am  placed. 
You  must  have  heard  it  from  my  servant ;  say,  at  all  events,  my  dear 
fellow,  that  I  am  neither  a  robber  nor  a  madman." 

"  I  have  said  so,  my  dear  friend.  I  have  said  so  already,"  replied 
Mr.  Wardle,  shaking  the  right  hand  of  his  friend,  while  Mr.  Trundle 
shook  the  left. 

*'  And  whoever  says,  or  has  said,  he  is,"  interposed  Mr.  Weller, 
stepping  forward,  "  says  that  which  is  not  the  truth,  but  so  far  from  it, 
on  the  contrairy,  quite  the  rewerse.  And  if  there's  any  number  o' 
men  on  these  here  premises  as  has  said  so,  I  shall  be  wery  happy  to 
give  'em  all  a  wery  convincing  proof  o*  their  being  mistaken,  in  this 
here  wery  room,  if  these  wery  respectable  ladies  '11  have  the  goodness  to 
retire,  and  order  'em  up,  one  at  a  time."  Having  delivered  this  defiance 
with  great  volubility,  Mr.  Weller  struck  his  open  palm  emphatically 
with  his  clenched  fist,  and  winked  pleasantly  on  Miss  Tomkins,  the 
intensity  of  whose  horror  at  his  supposing  it  within  the  bounds  of  possi- 
bility that  there  could  be  any  men  on  the  premises  of  Westgate  House 
Establishment  for  Young  Ladies,  it  is  impossible  to  describe. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  explanation  having  been  already  partially  made,  was 
soon  concluded.  But  neither  in  the  course  of  his  walk  home  with  his 
friends,  nor  afterwards  when  seated  before  a  blazing  fire  at  the  supper 
he  so  much  needed,  could  a  single  observation  be  drawn  from  him.  He 
seemed  bewildered  and  amazed.  Once,  and  only  once,  he  turned  round 
to  Mr.  Wardle,  and  said 

"  How  did  you  come  here?  " 


172  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Tiundle  and  I  came  down  here,  for  some  good  shooting  on  the  first," 
rephed  Wardle.  '^  We  arrived  to-night  and  were  astonished  to  hear 
from  your  servant  that  you  were  here  too.  But  I  am  glad  you  are," 
said  the  jolly  old  fellow,  slapping  him  on  the  back.  "  I  am  glad  you 
are.  We  shall  have  a  jolly  party  on  the  first,  and  we'll  give  Winkle 
another  chance — eh,  old  boy  ?  " 

Mr.  Pickwick  made  no  reply ;  he  did  not  even  ask  after  his  friends 
at  Dingley  Dell,  and  shortly  aftierwards  retired  for  the  night,  desiring 
Sam  to  fetch  his  candle  when  he  rung. 

The  bell  did  ring  in  due  course,  and  Mr.  Weller  presented  himself. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr,  Pickwick,  looking  out  from  under  the  bed- 
clothes. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  and  Mr.  Weller  snuffed  the  candle. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  again,  as  if  with  a  desperate  effort. 

*'  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  once  more. 

"  Where  is  that  Trotter?" 

''  Job,  Sir?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Gone,  Sir." 

"  With  his  master,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Friend  or  master,  or  whatever  he  is,  he*s  gone  with  him,"  replied 
Mr.  Weller.     "  There's  a  pair  on  'em.  Sir." 

"  Jingle  suspected  my  design,  and  set  that  fellow  on  you,  with  this 
story,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  half  choking. 

''  Just  that.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  It  was  all  false,  of  course  ?" 

«  All,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.     «  Reg'lar  do,  Sir  ;  artful  dodge." 

''  I  don't  think  he'll  escape  us  quite  so  easily  the  next  time,  Sam?" 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  don't  think  he  will.  Sir." 

*'  Whenever  I  meet  that  Jingle  again,  wherever  it  is,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  raising  himself  in  bed,  and  indenting  his  pillow  with  a  tre- 
mendous blow,  "  I'll  inflict  personal  chastisement  on  him,  in  addition 
to  the  exposure  he  so  richly  merits.  I  will,  or  my  name  is  not  Pick- 
wick." 

"  And  venever  I  catches  hold  o'  that  there  melan-choUy  chap  with 
the  black  hair,"  said  Sara,  "  if  I  don't  bring  some  real  water  into  his 
eyes,  for  once  in  a  way,  my  name  a'nt  Weller.     Good  night,  Sir." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


SHOWING    THAT    AN    ATTACK    OF    RHEUMATISM,   IN    SOME   CASES, 
ACTS    AS    A    QUICKENER    TO    INVENTIVE    GENIUS. 

The  constitution  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  though  able  to  sustain  a  very 
considerable  amount  of  exertion  and  fatigue,  was  not  proof  against  such 
a  combination  of  attacks  as  he  had  undergone  on  the  memorable  night, 
recorded  in  the  last  chapter.     The  process  of  being  washed  in  the  ni^ht 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


173 


air,  iiiul  rough-drieil  in  a  close  closet,  is  as  dangerous   as  it  is  peculiar. 
Mr.  Pickwick  was  laid  up  with  an  attack  of  rheumatism. 

But  although  the  bodily  powers  of  the  great  man  were  thus  impaired, 
his  mental  energies  retained  their  pristine  vigour.  His  spirits  were 
elastic  ;  his  good  humour  was  restored.  Even  the  vexation  consequent 
upon  his  recent  adventure  had  vanished  from  his  mind ;  and  he  could 
join  in  the  hearty  laughter  which  any  allusion  to  it  excited  in  Mr. 
VV^ardle,  without  anger  and  without  embarrassment.  Nay,  more. 
During  the  two  days  Mr.  Pickwick  was  confined  to  his  bed,  Sam 
was  his  constant  attendant.  On  the  first,  he  endeavoured  to  amuse  his 
master  by  anecdote  and  conversation ;  on  the  second  Mr.  Pickwick 
demanded  his  writing-desk,  and  pen  and  ink,  and  was  deeply  engaged 
during  the  whole  day.  On  the  third,  being  able  to  sit  up  in  his  bed- 
chamber, he  despatched  his  valet  with  a  message  to  Mr.  VVardle  and 
Mr.  Trundle,  intimating  that  if  they  would  take  their  wine  there,  that 
evening,  they  would  greatly  oblige  him.  The  invitation  was  most 
willingly  accepted  ;  and  when  they  were  seated  over  their  wine,  Mr 
Pickwick  with  sundry  blushes,  produced  the  following  little  tale,  as 
having  been  "edited"  by  himself,  during  his  recent  indisposition,  from 
his  notes  of  Mr.  Weller's  unsophisticated  recital. 

"  THE  PARISH  CLERK A  TALE  OF  TRUE  LOVE. 

"  Once  upon  a  time,  in  a  very  small  country  town,  at  a  considerable 
distance  from  London,  there  lived  a  little  man  named  Nathaniel  Pipkin, 
who  was  the  parish  clerk  of  the  little  town,  and  lived  in  a  little 
house  in  the  little  high  street,  within  ten  minutes'  walk  of  the  little 
church  ;  and  who  was  to  be  found  every  day  from  nine  till  four,  teaching 
a  little  learning  to  the  little  boys.  Nathaniel  Pipkin  was  a  harmless, 
inoffensive,  good-natured  being,  with  a  turned-up  nose,  and  rather 
turned-in  legs,  a  cast  in  his  eye,  and  a  halt  in  his  gait ;  and  he  divided 
his  time  between  the  church  and  his  school,  verily  believing  that  there 
existed  not,  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  so  clever  a  man  as  the  curate,  so 
imposing  an  apartment  as  the  vestiy-room,  or  so  well-ordered  a  semi- 
nary as  his  own.  Once,  and  only  once,  in  his  life,  Nathaniel  Pipkin 
had  seen  a  bishop — a  real  bishop,  with  his  arms  in  lawn  sleeves,  and 
his  head  in  a  wig.  He  had  seen  him  walk,  and  heard  him  talk  at  a 
confirmation,  on  which  momentous  occasion  Nathaniel  Pipkin  was  so 
overcome  with  reverence  and  awe,  when  the  aforesaid  bishop  laid  his 
hand  on  his  head,  that  he  fainted  right  clean  away,  and  was  borne  out  of 
church  in  the  arras  of  the  beadle. 

"  This  was  a  great  event,  a  tremendous  era,  in  Nathaniel  Pipkin's 
life,  and  it  was  about  the  only  one  that  had  ever  occurred  to  ruffle  the 
smooth  current  of  his  quiet  existence,  when  happening  one  fine  after- 
noon, in  a  fit  of  mental  abstraction,  to  raise  his  eyes  from  the  slate  on 
which  he  was  devising  some  tremendous  problem  in  compound  addition 
for  an  offending  urchin  to  solve,  they  suddenly  rested  on  the  blooming 
countenance  of  Maria  Lobbs,  the  only  daughter  of  old  Lobbs  the  groat 
saddler  over  the  way.  Now,  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Pipkins  had  rested  on  the 
pretty  face  of  Maria  Lobbs  many  a  time  and  oft  before,  at  church  and 
elsewhere  :  but  the   eyes  of  Marin  Lobbs  had  ncv(M-  looked  so  briglit, 


174  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

the  cheeks  of  Maria  Lo1»bs  had  never  looked  so  ruddy,  as  upjn  this 
particular  occasion.  No  wonder  then,  that  Nathaniel  Pipkin  was  unable 
to  take  his  eyes  from  the  countenance  of  Miss  Lobbs  ;  no  wonder  that 
Miss  Lobbs,  finding-  herself  stared  at  by  a  young  man,  withdrew  her 
head  from  the  window  out  of  which  she  had  been  peeping,  and  shut 
the  casement  and  pulled  down  the  blind ;  no  wonder  that  Nathaniel 
Pipkin,  immediately  thereafter,  fell  upon  the  young  urchin  who  had 
previously  offended,  and  cuffed  and  knocked  him  to  his  heart's  content. 
All  this  was  very  natural,  and  there's  nothing  at  all  to  wonder  at 
about  it. 

"  It  is  matter  of  wonder,  though,  that  any  one  of  Mr.  Nathaniel 
Pipkin's  retiring  disposition,  nervous  temperament,  and  most  particularly 
diminutive  income,  should  from  this  day  forth,  have  dared  to  aspire  to 
the  hand  and  heart  of  the  only  daughter  of  the  fiery  old  Lobbs — of 
old  Lobbs  the  great  saddler,  who  could  have  bought  up  the  whole 
village  at  one  stroke  of  his  pen,  and  never  felt  the  outlay — old  Lobbs, 
who  was  well  known  to  have  heaps  of  money,  invested  in  the  bank 
at  the  nearest  market  town — who  was  reported  to  have  countless  and 
inexhaustible  treasures,  hoarded  up  in  the  little  iron  safe  with  the  big 
key-hole,  over  the  chimney-piece  in  the  back  parlour — and  who,  it  was 
well  known,  on  festive  occasions  garnished  his  board  with  a  real  silver 
tea-pot,  cream  ewer,  and  sugar-basin,  which  he  was  wont,  in  the  pride 
of  his  heart,  to  boast  should  be  his  daughter's  property  when  she  found 
a  man  to  her  mind.  I  repeat  it,  to  be  matter  of  profound  astonishment 
and  intense  wonder,  that  Nathaniel  Pipkin  should  have  had  the  temerity 
to  cast  his  eyes  in  this  direction.  But  love  is  blind,  and  Nathaniel  had 
a  cast  in  his  eye :  and  perhaps  these  two  circumstances,  taken  together, 
prevented  his  seeing  the  matter,  in  its  proper  light. 

"  Now,  if  old  Lobbs  had  entertained  the  most  remote  or  distant  idea 
of  the  state  of  the  affections  of  Nathaniel  Pipkin,  he  would  just  have 
razed  the  school-room  to  the  ground,  or  exterminated  its  master  from 
the  surface  of  the  earth,  or  committed  some  other  outrage  and  atrocity 
of  an  equally  ferocious  and  violent  description  ;  for  he  was  a  terrible 
old  fellow,  that  Lobbs,  when  his  pride  was  injured,  or  his  blood  was  up. 
Swear  I  Such  trains  of  oaths  would  come  rolling  and  pealing  over  the 
way,  sometimes,  when  he  was  denouncing  the  idleness  of  the  bony 
apprentice  with  the  thin  legs,  that  Nathaniel  Pipkin  would  shake  in 
his  shoes  with  horror,  and  the  hair  of  the  pupils'  heads  would  stand  on 
end  with  fright. 

"  Well,  day  after  day,  when  school  was  over,  and  the  pupils  gone, 
did  Nathaniel  Pipkin  sit  himself  down  at  the  front  window,  and  while 
he  feigned  to  be  reading  a  book,  throw  sidelong  glances  over  the  way 
in  search  of  the  bright  eyes  of  Maria  Lobbs  ;  and  he  hadn't  sat  there 
many  days,  before  the  bright  eyes  appeared  at  an  upper  window, 
apparently  deeply  engaged  in  reading  too.  This  was  delightful,  and, 
gladdening  to  the  heart  of  Nathaniel  Pipkin.  It  was  something  to  sit 
there  for  hours  together,  and  look  upon  that  pretty  face  when  the  eyes 
were  cast  down  ;  but  when  Maria  Lobbs  began  to  raise  her  eyes  from 
her  book,  and  dart  their  rays  in  the  direction  of  Nathaniel  Pipkin,  his 
delight  and  admiration  were  perfectly  boundless.     At  last,  one  day 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  1  "5 

when  he  knew  old  Lohbs  was  out,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  had  the  temeritv 
to  kiss  his  hand  to  Maria  Lobbs ;  and  Maria  Lobbs,  instead  of  shutting 
the  window,  and  pulling-  down  the  blind,  kissed  hers  to  hira,  and  smiled. 
Upon  which,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  determined,  that,  come  what  might,  he 
would  develope  the  state  of  his  feelirp"s,  without  further  delay. 

A  prettier  foot,  a  gayer  heart,  a  more  dimpled  face,  or  a  smarter 
form,  never  bounded  so  lightly  over  the  earth  they  graced,  as  did  those 
of  Maria  Lobbs,  the  old  saddler's  daughter.  There  was  a  roguish 
twinkle  in  her  sparkling  eyes,  that  would  have  made  its  way  to  fur  less 
susceptible  bosoms  than  that  of  Nathaniel  Pipkin  ;  and  there  was  such 
a  joyous  sound  in  her  merry  laugh,  that  the  sternest  misanthrope  must 
have  smiled  to  hear  it.  Even  old  Lobbs  himself^  in  the  very  height  of 
his  ferocity,  couldn't  resist  the  coaxing  of  his  pretty  daughter ;  and 
when  she,  and  her  cousin  Kate — au  arch,  impudent-looking,  bewitching 
little  person — made  a  dead  set  upon  the  old  man  together,  as,  to  say 
the  truth,  they  very  often  did,  he  could  have  refused  them  nothing, 
even  had  they  asked  for  a  portion  of  the  countless  and  inexhaustible 
treasures,  which  were  hidden  from  the  light,  in  the  iron  safe. 

"  Nathaniel  Pipkin's  heart  beat  high  within  him,  when  he  saw  this 
enticing  htlle  couple  some  hundred  yards  before  him,  one  summers 
evening,  in  the  very  field  in  which  he  had  many  a  time  strolled  about 
till  night-time,  and  pondered  on  the  beauty  of  Maria  Lobbs.  But 
though  he  had  often  thought  then,  how  briskly  he  would  walk  up  to 
Maria  Lobbs  and  tell  her  of  his  passion  if  he  could  only  meet  her,  he 
felt,  now  that  she  was  unexpectedly  before  him,  all  the  blood  in  his 
body  mounting  to  his  face,  manifestly  to  the  great  detriment  of  his  legs, 
which,  deprived  of  their  usual  portion,  trembled  beneath  him.  When 
they  stopped  to  gather  a  hedge-flower,  or  listen  to  a  bird,  Nathaniel 
Pipkin  stopped  too,  and  pretended  to  be  absorbed  in  meditation,  as 
indeed  he  really  was;  for  he  was  thinking  what  on  earth  he  should  ever 
do,  when  they  turned  back,  as  they  inevitably  must  in  time,  and  meet  him 
face  to  face.  But  though  he  was  afraid  to  make  up  to  them,  he  couldn't 
bear  to  lose  sight  of  them  ;  so  when  they  walked  faster  he  walked  faster, 
when  they  lingered  he  lingered,  and  when  they  stopped  he  stopped ; 
and  so  they  might  have  gone  on,  till  the  darkness  prevented  them,  if 
Kate  had  not  looked  slily  back,  and  encouragingly  beckoned  Nathaniel 
to  advance.  There  was  something  in  Kate's  manner  that  was  not  to  be 
resisted,  and  so  Nathaniel  Pipkin  complied  with  the  invitation  ;  and 
after  a  great  deal  of  blushing  on  his  part,  and  immoderate  laughter  on 
I  hat  of  the  wicked  little  cousin,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  went  down  on  his 
knees  on  the  dewy  grass,  and  declared  his  resolution  to  remain  there 
for  ever,  unless  he  was  permitted  to  rise  the  accepted  lover  of  Maria 
Lobbs.  Upon  this,  the  merry  laughter  of  Maria  Lobbs  rang  through 
the  calm  evening  air — without  seeming  to  disturb  it,  though  ;  it  had 
such  a  pleasant  sound — and  the  wicked  little  cousin  laughed  more  immo- 
derately than  before,  and  N  ihaniel  Pipkin  blushed  deeper  than  ever. 
At  length,  Maria  Lobbs  being  more  strenuously  urged  by  the  love-worn 
little  man,  turned  away  her  head,  and  whispered  her  cousin  to  say,  or 
at  all  events  Kate  did  say,  that  she  felt  much  honoured  by  Mr.  Pipkin's 
addresses,  that   her  hand  and  heart  were  at  her  father's   disposal,  but 


17(J  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


I 


tliut  nobody  could  be  insensible  to  Mr.  Pipkin's  merits.  As  all  tlrs 
was  said  with  much  gravity,  and  as  Nathaniel  Pipkin  walked  home  with 
Maria  Lobbs,  and  struggled  for  a  kiss  at  parting,  he  went  to  bed  a  happy 
man,  and  dreamed  all  night  long,  of  softening  old  Lobbs,  opening  the 
strong  box,  and  marrying  Maria. 

'*  The  next  day,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  saw  old  Lobbs  go  out  upon  his  old 
grey  poney,  and  after  a  great  many  signs  at  the  window  from  the  wicked 
little  cousin,  the  object  and  meaning  of  which  he  cotild  by  no  means 
understand,  the  bony  apprentice  with  the  thin  legs  came  over  to  say 
that  his  master  wasn't  coming  home  all  night,  and  that  the  ladies 
expected  Mr.  Pipkin  to  tea,  at  six  o'clock  precisely.  How  the  lessons 
were  got  through  that  day,  neither  Nathaniel  Pipkin  nor  liis  pupils  knew 
any  more  than  you  do  ;  but  they  were  got  through  somehow,  and,  after 
the  boys  had  gone,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  took  till  full  six  o'clock  to  dress 
himself  to  his  satisfaction  ;  not  that  it  took  long  to  select  the  garments 
he  should  wear,  inasmuch  as  he  had  no  choice  about  the  matter,  but  the 
putting  them  on  to  the  best  advantage,  and  touching  them  up  previously, 
was  a  task  of  no  inconsiderable  difficulty  or  importance. 

"  There  was  a  very  snug  little  party,  consisting  of  Maria  Lobbs  and 
her  cousin  Kate,  and  three  or  four  romping,  good-humoured,  rosy-- 
cheeked  girls.  Nathaniel  Pipkin  had  ocular  demonstration  of  the  fact, 
thiit  even  the  rumours  of  old  Lobbs's  treasures  were  not  exaggerated. 
Tiiere  were  the  real  solid  silver  tea-pot,  cream-ewer,  and  sugar-basin,  on 
the  table,  and  real  silver  spoons  to  stir  the  tea  with,  and  real  china  cups 
to  drink  it  out  of,  and  plates  of  the  same,  to  hold  the  cakes  and  toast  in. 
The  only  eye-sore  in  the  whole  place,  was  alTother  cousin  of  Maria 
Lobbs's,  and  brother  of  Kate,  whom  Maria  Lobbs  called  *  Henry,*  and 
who  seemed  to  keep  Maria  Lobbs  all  to  himself,  up  in  one  corner  of  the 
table.  It's  a  delightful  thing  to  see  affection  in  families,  but  it  may  be 
carried  rather  too  far,  and  Nathaniel  Pipkin  could  not  help  thinking 
that  Maria  Lobbs  must  be  very  particularly  fond  of  her  relations,  if  she 
paid  as  much  attention  to  all  of  them  as  to  this  individual  cousin. 
After  tea,  too,  when  the  wicked  little  cousin  proposed  a  game  at  blind 
man's  buff,  it  somehow  or  other  happened  that  Nathaniel  Pipkin  was 
nearly  always  blind,  and  whenever  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  male 
cousin,  he  was  sure  to  find  that  Maria  Lobbs  was  not  far  off.  And 
though  the  wicked  little  cousin  and  the  other  girls  pinched  him,  and 
pulled  his  hair,  and  pushed  chairs  in  his  way,  and  all  sorts  of  things, 
P^Iaria  Lobbs  never  seemed  to  come  near  him  at  all;  and  once — once — • 
Nathaniel  Pipkin  could  have  sworn  he  heard  the  sound  of  a  kiss,  fol- 
lowed by  a  faint  remonstrance  from  Maria  Lobbs,  and  a  half-suppressed 
laugh  from  her  female  friends.  All  this  was  odd — very  odd — and  there 
is  no  saying  what  Nathaniel  Pipkin  might  or  might  not  have  done,  in 
consequence,  if  his  thoughts  had  not  been  suddenly  directed  into  a 
new  channel. 

"  The  circumstance  which  directed  his  thoughts  into  a  new  channel 
was  a  loud  knocking  at  the  street- door,  and  the  person  who  made  this 
loud  knocking  at  the  street-door,  was  no  other  than  old  Lobbs  himself, 
who  had  unexpectedly  returned,  and  was  hammering  away,  like  a  coffin- 
maker :  for  ho  v.anted  his  supper.     'J'he  alarming  intelligence  was  iiQ 


THE    PICKWICK    CLl'B.  177 

MioinT  CDmmunicatetl  by  the  bony  apprentice  with  the  tliin  Ic^s,  thmi 
the  girls  tripped  up  stairs  to  INIaria  Lobhs's  bed-room,  and  the  nuile 
cousin  and  Nathaniel  Pipkin  were  thrust  into  a  couple  of  closets  in  tlie 
sitting-room,  for  want  of  any  better  places  of  concealment;  and  when 
Maria  Lobbs  and  the  wicked  little  cousin  had  stowed  them  away,  and 
put  the  room  to  rights,  they  opened  the  street  door  to  old  Lobbs,  who 
had  never  left  off  knocking  since  he  first  began. 

"'  Now  it  did  unfortunately  happen  that  old  Lobbs  being  very  hungry 
was  monstrous  cross.  Nathaniel  Pipkin  could  hear  him  growling  away 
like  an  old  mastiff  with  a  sore  throat ;  and  whenever  the  unfortunate 
apprentice  with  the  thin  legs  came  into  the  room,  so  surely  did  old 
Lobbs  commence  swearing  at  him  in  a  most  Saracenic  and  ferocious 
manner,  though  apparently  with  no  other  end  or  object  than  that  of 
easing  his  bosom  by  the  discharge  of  a  few  superfluous  oaths.  At  length 
some  supper,  which  had  been  warming  up,  was  placed  on  the  table,  and 
then  old  Lobbs  fell  to,  in  regular  style ;  and,  having  made  clear  work  of 
it  in  no  time,  kissed  his  daughter,  and  demanded  his  pipe. 

**  Nature  had  placed  Nathaniel  Pipkin's  knees  in  very  close  juxta- 
position, but  when  he  heard  old  Lobbs  demand  his  pipe,  they  knocked 
together,  as  if  they  were  going  to  reduce  each  other  to  powder  ;  for, 
depending  from  a  couple  of  hooks,  in  the  very  closet  in  which  he  stood, 
was  a  large  brown-stemmed,  silver-bowled  pipe,  which  pipe  he  himself 
had  seen  in  the  mouth  of  old  Lobbs,  regularly  every  afternoon  and 
evening,  for  the  last  five  years.  The  two  girls  went  down  stairs  for  the 
pipe,  and  up  stairs  for  the  pipe,  and  everywhere  but  where  they  knew 
the  pipe  was,  and  old  Lobbs  stormed  away  meanwhile,  in  the  most  won- 
derful manner.  At  last  he  thought  of  the  closet,  and  walked  up  to  it. 
It  was  of  no  use  a  little  man  like  Nathaniel  Pipkin  pulling  the  door  in- 
wards, when  a  great  strong  fellow  like  old  Lobbs  was  pulling  it  out- 
wards. Old  Lobbs  just  gave  it  one  tug,  and  open  it  flew,  disclosing 
Nathaniel  Pipkin  standing  bolt  upright  inside,  and  shaking  with  appre- 
hension from  head  to  foot.  Bless  us  !  what  an  appalling  look  old  Lobbs 
gave  him,  as  he  dragged  him  out  by  the  collar,  and  held  him  at  arm's 
length. 

"  '  Why,  what  the  devil  do  you  want  here  ? '  said  old  Lobbs,  in  a 
fearful  voice. 

*'  Nathaniel  Pipkin  could  make  no  reply,  so  old  Lobbs  shook  him 
hackvvards  and  forwards,  for  two  or  three  minutes,  by  way  of  arranging 
his  ideas  for  him. 

*'  *  What  do  you  want  here  ?  '  roared  Lobbs,  '  I  suppose  i/ou  have 
come  after  my  daughter,  now.' 

"  Old  Lobbs  merely  said  this  as  a  sneer  :  for  he  did  not  believe  that 
mortal  presumption  could  have  carried  Nathaniel  Pipkin  so  fur. 
What  was  his  indignation,  when  that  poor  man  replied — 

"  *  Yes,  I  did,  Mr.  Lobbs — I  did  come  after  your  daughter.  I  love 
her,  Mr.  Lobbs.' 

«  *  Why,  you  snivelling,  wry-faced  little  villain,'  gasped  old  Lobbs, 
paralysed  at  the  atrocious  confession ;  '  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ? 
^^ay  this  to  my  face!     Damme,  I'll  throttle  you.' 


178  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

*'  It  is  by  no  means  improbable  that  old  Lobbs  would  have  carried 
this  threat  into  execution,  in  the  excess  of  his  rage,  if  his  arm  had  not 
1)een  stayed  by  a  very  unexpected  apparition,  to  wit,  the  male  coasin, 
who,  stepping  out  of  his  closet,  and  walking  up  to  old  Lobbs,  said — 

"  '  I  cannot  allow  this  harmless  person.  Sir,  who  has  been  asked 
here,  in  some  girlish  frolic,  to  take  upon  himself,  in  a  very  noble  man- 
ner, the  fault  (if  fault  it  is)  which  I  am  guilty  of,  and  am  ready  to 
avow.  /  love  your  daughter,  Sir ;  and  /  came  here  for  the  purpose  of 
meeting  her.' 

''  Old  Lobbs  opened  his  eyes  very  wide  at  this,  but  not  wider  than 
Nathaniel  Pipkin. 

"  '  You  did  ?  '  said  Lobbs  :  at  last  finding  breath  to  speak. 

•«  *  1  did.' 

"  'And  I  forbade  you  this  house,  long  ago.' 

*'  *  You  did,  or  I  should  not  have  been  here,  clandestinely,  to-night." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  record  it,  of  old  Lobbs,  but  I  think  he  would  have 
struck  the  cousin,  if  his  pretty  daughter,  with  her  bright  eyes  swimming 
in  tears,  had  not  clung  to  his  arm. 

"  '  Don't  stop  him,  Maria,'  said  the  young  man  :  *if  he  has  the  will 
to  strike  me,  let  him.  I  would  not  hurt  a  hair  of  his  grey  head,  for 
the  riches  of  the  world.' 

*'  The  old  man  cast  down  his  eyes  at  this  reproof,  and  they  met 
those  of  his  daughter.  I  have  hinted  once  or  twice  before,  that  they 
were  very  bright  eyes,  and,  though  they  were  tearful  now,  their  influence 
was  by  no  means  lessened.  Old  Lobbs  turned  his  head  away,  as  if  to 
avoid  being  persuaded  by  them,  when,  as  fortune  would  have  it,  he 
encountered  the  face  of  the  wicked  little  cousin,  who,  half  afraid  for 
her  brother,  and  half  laughing  at  Nathaniel  Pipkin,  presented  as  be- 
witching an  expression  of  countenance,  with  a  touch  oi  slyness  in  it 
too,  as  any  man,  old  or  young,  need  look  upon.  She  drew  her  arm 
coaxingly  through  the  old  man's,  and  whispered  something  in  his  ear  ; 
and  do  what  he  would,  old  Lobbs  couldn't  help  breaking  out  into  a 
smile,  while  a  tear  stole  down  his  cheek,  at  the  same  time. 

''  Five  minutes  after  this,  the  girls  were  brought  down  from  the  bed- 
room with  a  great  deal  of  giggling  and  modesty  ;  and  while  the  young 
people  were  making  themselves  perfectly  happy,  old  Lobbs  got  down 
the  pipe,  and  smoked  it :  and  it  was  a  remarkable  circumstance  about 
that  particular  pipe  of  tobacco,  that  it  was  the  most  soothing  and 
lightful  one  he  ever  smoked. 

"  Nathaniel  Pipkin  thought  it  best  to  keep  his  own  counsel,  and  by 
so  doing  gradually  rose  into  high  favour  with  old  Lobbs,  who  taught 
him  to  smoke  in  time ;  and  they  used  to  sit  out  in  the  garden  on  the 
fine  evenings,  for  many  years  afterwards,  smoking  and  drinking  in  great 
state.  He  soon  recovered  the  effects  of  his  attachment,  for  we  find  his 
name  in  the  parish  register,  as  a  witness  to  the  marriage  of  Maria  Lobbs 
to  her  cousin  ;  and  it  also  appears,  by  reference  to  other  documents, 
that  on  the  night  of  the  wedding,  he  was  incarcerated  in  the  village 
cage,  for  having,  in  a  state  of  extreme  intoxication,  committed  sundry' 
excesses  in  the  streets,  in  all  of  which  he  was  aided  and  abetted  by  th« 
uony  apprentice  with  Uie  thin  legs.' 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  1 7!> 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

BRIEFLY    ILLUSTRATIVE    OF    TWO    POINTS; FIRST,    THE    POWER    OF 

HYSTERICS,    AND,    SECONDLY,    THE    FORCE    OF    CIRCUMSTANCES. 

For  two  days  after  the  dejeu7ie  at  Mrs.  Hunter's,  the  Pickwickians 
remained  at  Eatanswill,  anxiously  awaiting-  the  arrival  of  some  intelli- 
gence from  their  revered  leader.  Mr.  Tiipman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  were 
once  again  left  to  their  own  means  of  amusement ;  for  Mr.  Winkle,  in 
compliance  with  a  most  pressing  invitation,  continued  to  reside  at  Mr. 
Pott's  house,  and  to  devote  his  time  to  the  companionship  of  his  amiable 
lady.  Nor  was  the  occasional  society  of  Mr.  Pott  himself,  wanting  to 
complete  their  felicity.  Deeply  immersed  in  the  intensity  of  his  specu- 
iations  for  the  public  weal,  and  the  destruction  of  the  Independent,  it 
was  not  the  habit  of  that  great  man  to  descend  from  his  mental  pinnacle 
to  the  humble  level  of  ordinary  minds.  On  this  occasion,  however, 
and  as  if  expressly  in  compliment  to  any  follower  of  Mr.  Pickwick's, 
he  unbent,  relaxed,  stepped  down  from  his  pedestal,  and  walked  upon 
the  ground :  benignly  adapting  his  remarks  to  the  comprehension  of 
the  herd,  and  seeming  in  outward  form,  if  not  in  spirit,  to  be  one  of 
them. 

Such  having  been  the  demeanour  of  this  celebrated  public  character 
towards  Mr.  Winkle,  it  will  be  readily  imagined  that  considerable  sur- 
prise was  depicted  on  the  countenance  of  the  latter  gentleman,  when, 
as  he  was  sitting  alone  in  the  breakfast-room,  the  door  was  hastily 
thrown  open,  and  as  hastily  closed,  on  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Pott,  who, 
stalking  majestically  towards  him,  and  thrusting  aside  his  proffered 
hand,  ground  his  teeth,  as  if  to  put  a  sharper  edge  on  what  he  was 
about  to  utter,  and  exclaimed,  in  a  saw-like  voice,— 

"  Serpent ! " 

"  Sir  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle,  starting  trom  his  chair. 

*'  Serpent,  Sir,"  repeated  Mr.  Pott,  raising  his  voice,  and  then  sud- 
denly depressing  it ;  "I  said.  Serpent,  Sir — make  the  most  of  it." 

Now  when  you  have  parted  with  a  man,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, on  terms  of  the  utmost  good  fellowship,  and  he  meets  you  again,  at 
half-past  nine,  and  greets  you  as  a  serpent,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to 
conclude  that  something  of  an  unpleasant  nature  has  occurred  mean- 
while. So  Mr.  Winkle  thought.  He  returned  Mr.  Pott's  gaze  of  stone, 
and  in  compliance  with  that  gentleman's  request,  proceeded  to  make 
the  most  he  could  of  the  "  serpent."  The  most,  however,  was  just 
nothing  at  all ;  so,  after  a  profound  silence  of  some  minutes'  duration, 
he  said, — 

"  Serpent,  Sir  !  Serpent,  Mr.  Pott !  What  can  you  mean,  Sir  ?— 
this  is  pleasantry." 

"  Pleasantry,  Sir !"  exclaimed  Pott,  with  a  motion  of  the  hand,  indi- 
cative of  a  strong  desire  to  hurl  the  Britannia  metal  tea-pot  at  the  head 

Q 


r 


180  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

of  his  visiter.     "Pleasantry,  Sir  I but  no,  I  will  be  calm;  I   will 

be  calm,  Sir ;"  and  in  proof  of  his  calmness,  Mr.  Pott  flung  himself  into 
a  chair,  and  foamed  at  the  mouth. 

"  My  dear  Sir,"  interposed  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Dear  Sir  I"  replied  Pott.  "  How  dare  you  address  me,  as  dear  Sir, 
Sir  ?     How  dare  you  look  me  in  the  face  and  do  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  Sir,  if  you  come  to  that,"  responded  Mr.  Winkle,  "  how  dare 
you  look  me  in  the  face,  and  call  me  a  serpent,  Sir  ?" 

"  Because  you  are  one,"  replied  Mr.  Pott. 

"  Prove  it,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  warmly.     "  Prove  it." 

A  malignant  scowl  passed  over  the  profound  face  of  the  editor,  as  he 
drew  from  his  pocket,  the  Independent  of  that  morning-;  and  laying-  his 
fing-er  on  a  particular  paragraph,  threw  the  journal  across  the  table  to 
Mr.  Winkle. 

That  gentleman  took  it  up,  and  read  as  follows : — 

"  Our  obscure  and  filthy  contemporary,  in  some  disgusting  observa- 
tions on  the  recent  election  for  this  borough,  has  presumed  to  violate 
the  hallowed  sanctity  of  private  life,  and  to  refer,  in  a  manner  not  to  be 
misunderstood,  to  the  personal  affairs  of  our  late  candidate — aye,  and 
notwithstanding  his  base  defeat,  we  will  add,  our  future  member,  Mr. 
Fizkin.  What  does  our  dastardly  contemporary  mean  ?  What  would 
the  ruffian  say,  if  we,  setting  at  naught,  like  him,  the  decencies  of  social 
intercourse,  were  to  raise  the  curtain  which  happily  conceals  his  private 
life  from  general  ridicule,  not  to  say  from  general  execration  ?  What^ 
if  we  were  even  to  point  out,  and  comment  on,  facts  and  circumstances 
which  are  publicly  notorious,  and  beheld  by  every  one,  but  our  mole- 
eyed  contemporary — what  if  we  were  to  print  the  following  effusion, 
which  we  received  while  we  were  writing  the  commencement  of  this 
article,  from  a  talented  fellow-townsman  and  correspondent : — 

« '  LINES  TO  A  BRASS  POT. 

" '  Oh  Pott!  if  you*d  known 

How  false  she'd  have  grown, 
When  you  heard  the  marriage  bells  tinkle  ; 

You'd  have  done  then,  I  vow, 

What  you  cannot  help  now, 
And  handed  her  over  to  W  *  *  *  *  *.'" 

"  What,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  solemnly — "  what  rhymes  to  '  tinkle,' 
villain  ?" 

"What  rhymes  to  tinkle?"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  whose  entrance  at  the 
moment  forestalled  the  reply.  "  What  rhymes  to  tinkle  ?  Why,  Winkle, 
I  should  conceive : "  and  saying  this,  Mrs.  Pott  smiled  sweetly  on  the 
disturbed  Pickwickian,  and  extended  her  hand  towards  him.  The 
agitated  young  man  would  have  accepted  it,  in  his  confusion,  had  not 
Pott  indignantly  interposed. 

"  Back,  Ma'am— hack,"  said  the  editor.  "  Take  his  hand  before  my 
very  face !  " 

"  Mr.  P. ! "  said  his  astonished  lady. 

"  Wretched  woman,  look  here,"  exclaimed  the  husband.     "  Look 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  181 

here,  Ma'am — *  Lines  to  a  brass  Pot,'  Ma'am.  *  Brass  pot ;' — that's  me, 
Ma'am.  *  False  she'd  have  grown  ;' — that's  you,  Ma'am — you."  With 
this  ebullition  of  rage,  which  was  not  unaccompanied  with  something 
like  a  tremble,  at  the  expression  of  his  wife's  face,  Mr.  Pott  clashed  the 
current  number  of  the  Eatanswill  Independent  at  her  feet. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Sir,"  said  the  astonished  Mrs.  Pott,  stooping  to 
pick  up  the  paper.     "  Upon  my  word.  Sir." 

Mr.  Pott  winced  ben-eath  the  contemptuous  gaze  of  his  wife.  He 
had  made  a  desperate  struggle  to  screw  up  his  courage,  but  it  was  fast 
coming  unscrewed  again. 

There  appears  nothing  very  tremendous  in  this  little  sentence, 
"  Upon  my  word.  Sir,"  when  it  comes  to  be  read  ;  but  the  tone  of  voice 
in  which  it  was  delivered,  and  the  look  that  accompanied  it,  both  seem 
ing  to  bear  reference  to  some  revenge  to  be  thereafter  wreaked  upon 
the  head  of  Pott,  produced  their  full  effect  upon  him.  The  most  un- 
skilful observer  could  have  detected  in  his  troubled  countenance,  a  readi- 
ness to  resign  his  Wellington  boots  to  any  efficient  substitute  who 
would  have  consented  to  stand  in  them  at  that  moment. 

Mrs.  Pott  read  the  paragraph,  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and  threw  herself 
at  full  length  on  the  hearth-rug,  screaming,  and  tapping  it  with  the 
heels  of  her  shoes,  in  a  manner  which  could  leave  no  doubt  of  the 
propriety  of  her  feelings  on  the  occasion. 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  terrified  Pott, — "  I  did'nt  say  I  believed  it ; — 

I "  but  the  unfortunate  man's  voice  was  drowned  in  the  screaming 

of  his  partner. 

"  Mrs.  Pott,  let  me  entreat  you,  my  dear  Ma'am,  to  compose  your- 
self," said  Mr.  Winkle ;  but  the  shrieks  and  tappings  were  louder,  and 
more  frequent,  than  ever. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  "  I  am  very  sorry.  If  you  won't  consider 
your  own  health,  consider  me,  my  dear.  We  shall  have  a  crowd  round 
the  house."  But  the  more  strenuously  Mr.  Pott  entreated,  the  more 
vehemently  the  screams  poured  forth. 

Very  fortunately,  however,  attached  to  Mrs.  Pott's  person  was  a 
body-guard  of  one,  a  young  lady  whose  ostensible  employment  was 
to  preside  over  her  toilet,  but  who  rendered  herself  useful  in  a  variety 
of  ways,  and  in  none  more  so  than  in  the  particular  department  of  con- 
stantly aiding  and  abetting  her  mistress  in  every  wish  and  inclination 
opposed  to  the  desires  of  the  unhappy  Pott.  The  screams  reached  this 
young  lady's  ears  in  due  course,  and  brought  her  to  the  room  with  a 
F:peed  which  threatened  to  derange  materially,  the  very  exquisite  arrange- 
ment of  her  cap  and  ringlets. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  dear  mistress  ! "  exclaimed  the  body-guard,  kneeling 
frantically  by  the  side  of  the  prostrate  Mrs.  Pott.  "  Oh,  my  dear  mis- 
tress, what  is  the  matter?" 

"  Your  master — your  brutal  master,"  murmured  the  patient. 

Pott  was  evidently  giving  way. 

"  It's  a  shame,"  said  the  body-guard,  reproachfully.  "  I  know  he'll 
be  the  death  on  you.  Ma'am.     Poor  dear  thing." 

He  gave  way  more.     The  opposite  party  followed  up  the  attack. 

Q  2 


IS'2  POSTHUMOUS     I'APERS    OF 

"  Oh  don't  ieave  me — don't  leave,  Goodwin,"  murmured  Mrs.  Pott, 
clutching-  at  the  wrists  of  the  said  Goodwin  with  an  hysteric  jerk. 
"  You're  the  only  person  that's  kind  to  me,  Goodwin." 

At  this  affecting-  appeal,  Goodwin  got  up  a  little  domestic  tragedy  of 
her  own,  and  shed  tears  copiously. 

"  Never,  Ma'am — never,"  said  Goodwin.  "  Oh,  Sir,  you  should  be 
careful — you  should  indeed  ;  you  don't  know  what  harm  you  may  do 
Missis  ;  you'll  be  sorry  for  it  one  day,  I  know — I've  always  said  so." 

The  unlucky  Pott  looked  timidly  on,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Goodwin,"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  in  a  soft  voice. 

"  Ma'am,"  said  Goodwin. 

"  If  you  only  knew  how  I  have  loved  that  man " 

"  Don't  distress  yourself  by  recollecting  it,  Ma'am,"  said  the  body- 
guard. 

Pott  looked  very  frightened.     It  was  time  for  a  clencher. 

"  And  now,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Pott — "  now,  after  all,  to  be  treated  in  this 
way ;  to  be  reproached  and  insulted  in  the  presence  of  a  third  party, 
and  that  party  almost  a  stranger.  But  I  will  not  submit  to  it,  Good- 
win," continued  Mrs.  Pott,  raising  herself,  in  the  arms  of  her  attendant. 
"  My  brother,  the  Lieutenant,  shall  interfere.  I'll  be  separated, 
Goodwin." 

"  It  would  certainly  serve  him  right.  Ma'am,"  said  Goodwin. 

Whatever  thoughts  the  threat  of  a  separation  might  have  awakened 
in  Mr.  Pott's  mind,  he  forbore  to  give  utterance  to  them,  and  contented 
himself  by  saying,  with  g-reat  humility, — 

*'  My  dear,  will  you  hear  me?" 

A  fresh  train  of  sobs  was  the  only  reply,  as  Mrs,  Pott  grew  more 
hysterical,  requested  to  be  informed  why  she  was  ever  born,  and 
required  sundry  other  pieces  of  information  of  a  similar  description. 

"  My  dear,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Pott,  "  do  not  give  way  to  these  sen- 
sitive feelings.  I  never  believed  that  the  paragraph  had  any  founda- 
tion, my  dear — impossible.  I  was  only  angry,  my  dear — I  may  say 
outrageous  —  with  the  Independent  people  for  daring  to  insert  it ; 
that's  all :"  and  Mr.  Pott  cast  an  imploring  look  at  the  innocent 
cause  of  the  mischief,  as  if  to  entreat  him  to  say  nothing  about  the 
serpent. 

"  And  what  steps.  Sir,  do  you  mean  to  take  to  obtain  redress  ?  " 
inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  gaining  courage  as  he  saw  Pott  losing  it. 

"  Oh,  Goodwin,"  observed  Mrs.  Pott,  "does  he  mean  to  horsewhip 
the  editor  of  the  Independent — does  he,  Goodwin?" 

"  Hush,  hush,  Ma'am  ;  pray  keep  yourself  quiet,"  replied  the  body- 
guard.    "  I  dare  say  he  will,  if  you  wish  it.  Ma'am." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Pott,  as  his  wife  evinced  decided  symptoms  of  going 
off  again — "  of  course  I  shall." 

"When,  Goodwin — when?"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  still  undecided  about 
the  going  off. 

"  Immediately,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Pott ;  "  before  the  day  is  out." 

"  Oh,  Goodwin,"  resumed  Mrs.  Pott,  "  it's  the  only  way  of  meeting 
the  slander,  and  setting  me  rig^ht  with  the  world." 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB  183 

"  Certainly,  Ma'am,"  replied  Goodwin.  "  No  man  as  is  a  man, 
Ma'am,  could  refuse  to  do  it." 

So  as  the  hysterics  were  still  hovering  about,  Mr.  Pott  said  once 
more,  that  he  would  do  it ;  but  Mrs.  Pott  was  so  overcome  at  the  bare 
idea  of  having  ever  been  suspected,  that  she  was  half-a-dozen  times  on 
the  very  verge  of  a  relapse,  and  most  unquestionably  would  have  gone 
oflf,  had  it  not  been  for  the  indefatigable  efforts  of  the  assiduous  Good- 
win, and  repeated  entreaties  for  pardon  from  the  conquered  Pott ;  and 
finally,  when  that  unhappy  individual  had  been  frightened  and  snubbed 
down  to  his  proper  level,  Mrs.  Pott  recovered,  and  they  went  to 
breakfast. 

"  You  will  not  allow  this  base  newspaper  slander  to  shorten  your 
stay  here,  Mr.  Winkle?"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  smiling  through  the  traces  of 
her  tears. 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  actuated,  as  he  spoke,  by  an  internal 
wish  that  his  visiter  would  choke  himself  with  the  morsel  of  dry  toast 
which  he  was  raising  to  his  lips  at  the  moment :  and  so  terminate  his 
stay  effectually. 

"  I  hope  not." 

"  You  are  very  good,"  said  Mr.  Winkle ;  '*  but  a  letter  has  been 
received  from  Mr.  Pickwick — ^^so  I  learn  by  a  note  from  Mr.  Tupman, 
which  was  brought  up  to  my  bed-room  door,  this  morning — in  which  he 
requests  us  to  join  him  at  Bury  to-day ;  and  we  are  to  leave  by  the 
coach  at  noon." 

"  But  you  will  come  back  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Pott-. 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  You  are  quite  sure?"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  stealing  a  tender  look  at  her 
visiter. 

"  Quite,"  responded  Mr.  Winkle. 

The  breakfast  passed  off  in  silence,  for  each  member  of  the  party  was 
brooding  over  his,  or  her,  own  personal  grievances.  Mrs.  Pott  was 
regretting  the  loss  of  a  beau ;  Mr.  Pott  his  rash  pledge  to  horse- 
whip the  Independent ;  and  Mr.  Winkle  his  having  placed  himself  in 
so  awkward  a  situation.  Noon  approached,  and  after  many  adieux  and 
promises  to  return,  he  tore  himself  away. 

"If  he  ever  comes  back,  I'll  poison  him,"  thought  Mr.  Pott,  as  he 
turned  into  the  little  back  office  where  he  prepared  his  thunderbolts. 

"  If  I  ever  do  come  back,  and  mix  myself  up  with  these  people 
again,"  thought  Mr.  Winkle,  as  he  wended  his  way  to  the  Peacock,  "  I 
shall  deserve  to  be  horsewhipped  myself — that's  all." 

His  friends  were  ready,  the  coach  was  nearly  so,  and  in  half  an 
hour  they  were  proceeding  on  their  journey,  along  the  road  over  which 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  had  so  recently  travelled,  and  of  which,  as  we 
have  already  said  something,  we  do  not  feel  called  upon  to  extract  Mr. 
Snodgrass's  poetical  and  beautiful  description. 

Mr.  Weller  was  standing  at  the  door  of  the  Angel,  ready  to  receive 
them,  and  by  that  gentleman  they  were  ushered  to  the  apartment  of 
Mr.  Pickwick,  where,  to  the  no  small  surprise  of  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr. 


184  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Snodgrass,  and  the  no  small  embarrassment  of  Mr.  Tupman,  they  found 
old  Wardle  and  Trundle. 

"  How  are  you?"  said  the  old  man,  grasping  Mr.  Tupman's  hand. 
"  Don't  hang- back,  or  look  sentimental  about  it;  it  can't  be  helped, 
old  fellow.  For  her  sake,  I  wish  you'd  had  her ;  for  your  own,  I'm 
very  glad  you  have  not.  A  young  fellow  like  you,  will  do  better  one 
of  these  days — eh?"  With  this  consolation,  old  Wardle  slapped  Mr, 
Tupman  on  the  back,  and  laughed  heartily. 

"  Well,  and  how  are  you,  my  fine  fellows?"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
shaking  hands  with  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  at  the  same  time. 
"  I  have  just  been  telling  Pickwick  that  we  must  have  you  all  down 
at  Christmas.  W^e're  going  to  have  a  wedding — a  real  wedding  this 
time." 

"  A  wedding  I "  exclaimed  Mr.  Snodgrass,  turning  very  pale. 

"  Yes,  a  wedding.  But  don't  be  frightened,"  said  the  good-humoured 
old  man  ;  "  it's  only  Trundle  there,  and  Bella." 

"  Oh,  is  that  all  ?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  relieved  from  a  painful  doubt 
which  had  fallen  heavily  on  his  breast.  "  Give  you  joy.  Sir.  How 
is  Joe  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  ; — very  well,"  replied  the  old  gentleman.    "  Sleepy  as  ever." 

"  And  your  mother,  and  the  clergyman,  and  all  of  'em  ?  " 

"  Quite  well." 

"  Where,"  said  Mr.  Tupman^  with  an  effort — "where  is — shCi  Sir?" 
and  he  turned  away  his  head,  and  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand. 

"  She  !"  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  knowing  shake  of  the  head. 
"  Do  you  mean  my  single  relative — eh  ?  " 

Mr.  Tupman,  by  a  nod,  intimated  that  his  question  applied  to  the 
disappointed  Rachael. 

"  Oh,  she's  gone  away,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "  She's  living  at  a 
relation's,  far  enough  off.  She  couldn't  bear  to  see  the  girls,  so  I  let 
her  go.  But  come,  here's  the  dinner.  You  must  be  hungry  after 
your  ride.     I  am,  without  any  ride  at  all ;  so  let  us  fall  to." 

Ample  justice  was  done  to  the  meal ;  and  when  they  were  seated 
round  the  table,  after  it  had  been  disposed  of,  Mr.  Pickwick,  to  the 
intense  horror  and  indignation  of  his  followers,  related  the  adventure 
he  had  undergone^  and  the  success  which  had  attended  the  base  artifices 
of  the  diabolical  Jingle. 

"  And  the  attack  of  rheumatism  which  I  caught  in  that  garden,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  in  conclusion,  "  renders  me  lame  at  this  moment." 

"  I,  too,  have  had  something  of  an  adventure,"  said  Mr.  Winkle, 
with  a  smile ;  and  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  detailed  the 
malicious  libel  of  the  Eatanswill  Independent,  and  the  consequent 
excitement  of  their  friend,  the  editor. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  brow  darkened,  during  the  recital.  His  friends  ob- 
served it,  and,  when  Mr.  Winkle  had  concluded,  maintained  a  profound 
silence.  Mr.  Pickwick  struck  the  table  emphatically  with  his  clenched 
fist,  and  spoke  as  follows  : — 

"  Is  it  not  a  wonderful  circumstance,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  that  we 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB.  18.) 

seem  destined  to  enter  no  man's  house,  without  involving  him  in  some 
degree  of  trouble  ?  Does  it  not,  I  ask^  bespeak  tlie  indiscretion,  or, 
worse  than  that,  the  blackness  of  heart — that  I  should  say  so  ! — of  my 
followers,  that,  beneath  whatever  roof  they  locate,  they  disturb  the  peace 
of  mind  and  happiness  of  some  confiding-  female  ?    Is  it  not,  I  say " 

Mr.  Pickwick  would  in  all  probability  have  gone  on  for  some  time, 
had  not  the  entrance  of  Sam,  with  a  letter,  caused  him  to  break  off  in 
his  eloquent  discourse.  He  passed  his  handkerchief  across  his  forehead, 
took  off  his  spectacles,  wiped  them,  and  put  them  on  again ;  and  his 
voice  had  recovered  its  wonted  softness  of  tone,  when  he  said, — 

"  What  have  you  there,  Sam?" 

"  Called  at  the  Post-office  just  now,  and  found  this  here  letter,  as 
has  laid  there  for  two  days,"  repHed  Mr.  Weller.  "  It's  sealed  vith  a 
vufer,  and  directed  in  round  hand." 

"  I  don't  know  this  hand,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  opening  the  letter. 
*'  Mercy  on  us  !  what's  this  ?    It  must  be  a  jest ;  it — it — can't  be  true." 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  was  the  general  inquiry. 

"  Nobody  dead,  is  there  ?  "  said  Wardle,  alarmed  at  the  horror  in  Mr. 
Pickwick's  countenance. 

Mr.  Pickwick  made  no  reply,  but,  pushing  the  letter  across  the  table, 
and  desiring  Mr.  Tupman  to  read  it  aloud,  fell  tack  in  his  chair  with  a 
look  of  vacant  astonishment  quite  alarming  to  behold. 

Mr.  Tupman,  with  a  trembling  voice,  read  the  letter,  of  which  the 
following  is  a  copy : — 

S'teemau'd  Court,  Cotu^iff,  Jlugudt  28t^j  ^1830. 

TSarDeff  aaain^t  Tickwiclc. 

Xovitt^  ^eeu  titdttucted  ^u  Ji%i6.  JlXatt^ci  T^at()eff, 
to  coiumeuce  an  action  aqaiudt  liou,  for  a  6reacll  of  proiiit^e  of 
iiiartta^e,  ^ot  wAicft  t^e  pfaiuti|^  faiid  fiet  ciamaqed  at  fifteen 
^iuii<)re<)  pouiiOd,  we  ije^  to  tiiforiit  itou  tftat  a  wttt  fiaA  ^eeii  i^Auei) 
a^aui^it  iiou  lu  tnid  duit,  iii  tfie  Goutt  o?  Coiiiiitoii  Wead  ;  and 
tecjuedt  to  Kitow,  ^i^  zetuzii  of  podt,  t^e  name  of  uout  attcrtteu  in 
.^j>uc)oiij  wfto  wiff  accept  detcice  thereof. 

VVe  are,  otr, 

xlour  o6ec)ient  detvaiitd, 

WoddOii  and  SI'oqq. 
Jlxr.  oaiMuef  Ttcksvick. 

There  was  something  so  impressive  in  the  mute  astonishment  with 
which  each  man  regarded  his  neighbour,  and  every  man  regarded  Mr 
Pickwick,  that  all  seemed  afraid  to  speak.  The  silence  was  at  length 
broken  by  Mr.  Tupman. 


186  rOSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

•'  Dodson  and  Fogg,"  he  repeated  mechanically. 

"  Bardell  and  Pickwick,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  musing. 

"  Peace  of  mind  and  happiness  of  confiding  females,"  murmured  Mr. 
Winkle,  with  an  air  of  abstraction. 

"  It's  a  conspiracy,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  at  length  recovering  the 
power  of  speech ; — "  a  base  conspiracy  between  these  two  grasping 
attorneys,  Dodson  and  Fogg.  Mrs.  Bardell  would  never  do  it ;— she 
hasn't  the  heart  to  do  it ; — she  hasn't  the  case  to  do  it.  Ridiculous — 
ridiculous." 

''  Of  her  heart,"  said  Wardle,  with  a  smile,  "  you  should  certainly  be 
the  best  judge.  I  don't  wish  to  discourage  you,  but  I  should  certainly 
say  that,  of  her  case,  Dodson  and  Fogg  are  far  better  judges  than  any 
of  us,  can  be." 

"  It's  a  vile  attempt  to  extort  money,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  hope  it  is,"  said  Wardle,  with  a  short,  dry  cough, 

"  Who  ever  heard  me  address  her  in  any  way  but  that  in  which  a 
lodger  would  address  his  landlady  ?  "  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great 
vehemence.  "  Who  ever  saw  me  with  her  ?  Not  even  my  friends 
here " 

"  Except  on  one  occasion,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

Mr.  Pickwick  changed  colour. 

"  Ah,"  said  Wardle.  "  Well,  that's  important.  There  was  nothing 
suspicious  then,  I  suppose?" 

Mr.  Tupman  glanced  timidly  at  his  leader.  "  Why,"  he  said,  "  there 
was  nothing  suspicious  ;  but — I  don't  know  how  it  happened,  mind — 
she  certainly  was  reclining  in  his  arms." 

"  Gracious  powers  !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the  recollection  of 
the  scene  in  question,  struck  forcibly  upon  him ; — "  what  a  dreadful 
instance  of  the  force  of  circumstances  !     So  she  was — so  she  was." 

"  And  our  friend  was  soothing  her  anguish,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  rather 
maliciously. 

"  So  I  was,'*  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  I  won't  deny  it.     So   I  was." 

"  Hallo  !  "  said  Wardle ;  "  for  a  case  in  which  there's  nothing  sus- 
picious, this  looks  rather  queer — eh,  Pickwick — eh  ?  Ah,  sly  dog — 
sly  dog  I "  and  he  laughed  till  the  glasses  on  the  side-board,  rang 
again. 

"  What  a  dreadful  conjunction  of  appearances  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, resting  his  chin  upon  his  hands,  "  Winkle — Tupman — I  beg  your 
pardon  for  the  observations  I  made  just  now.  We  are  all  the  victims 
of  circumstances,  and  I  the  greatest.'.'  With  this  apology,  Mr.  Pickwick 
buried  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  ruminated ;  while  Wardle  measured 
out  a  regular  circle  of  nods  and  winks,  addressed  to  the  other  members 
of  the  company. 

"  I'll  have  it  explained,  though,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  raising  his  head, 
and  hammering  the  table.  "  I'll  see  this  Dodson  and  Fogg.  I'll  go  to 
London  to-morrow," 

"  Not  to-morrow,"  said  Wardle ;  "  you're  too  lame." 

"  Well  then,  next  day." 

"  Next  day  is  the  first  of  September,  and  you're  pledged  to  ride  out 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  187 


with  us,  as  far  as  Sir  Geoffrey  Manning's  grounds,  at  all  erents,  and  to 
meet  us  at  lunch,  if  you  don't  take  the  field." 

"  Well  then,  the  day  after,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  Thursday Sara." 

"  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Take  two  places  outside  to  London,  on  Thursday  morning,  for 
yourself  and  me." 

"  Wery  well,  Sir." 

Mr.  Weller  left  the  looin,  and  departed  slowly  on  his  errand,  with  his 
hands  in  his  pocket,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 

"  Rum  feller,  the  hemperor,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  as  he  walked  slowly 
up  the  street.  "  Think  o'  his  makin'  up  to  that  ere  Mrs.  Bardell — vith 
a  little  boy,  too !  Always  the  vay  vith  these  here  old  'uns  hows'ever, 
as  is  such  steady  goers  to  look  at.  I  didn't  think  he'd  ha'  done  it, 
though — I  didn't  think  he'd  ha'  done  it."  And  moralising  in  this 
strain^  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  bent  his  steps  towards  the  booking-office. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  PLEASANT  DAY,  WITH  AN  UNPLEASANT  TERMINATION. 

The  birds,  who,  happily  for  their  own  peace  of  mind,  and  personal 
comfort,  were  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  preparations  which  had  been 
making  to  astonish  them,  on  the  first  of  September,  hailed  it  no  doubt, 
as  one  of  the  pleasantest  mornings  they  had  seen  that  season.  Many 
a  young  partridge  who  strutted  complacently  among  the  stubble,  with 
all  the  finicking  coxcombry  of  youth,  and  many  an  older  one  who 
watched  his  levity  out  of  his  little  round  eye,  with  the  conlemptuoas 
air  of  a  bird  of  wisdom  and  experience,  alike  unconscious  of  their 
approaching  doom,  basked  in  the  fresh  morning  air  with  lively  and 
blithesome  feelings,  and  a  few  hours  afterwards  were  laid  low  upon  the 
earth.     But  we  grow  affecting :  let  us  proceed. 

In  plain  common-place  matter-of-fact,  then,  it  was  a  fine  morning — 
so  fine  that  you  would  scarcely  have  believed  that  the  few  months  of  an 
English  summer  had  yet  flown  by.  Hedges,  fields,  and  trees,  hill  and 
moorland,  presented  to  the  eye  their  ever-varying  shades  of  deep  rich 
green  ;  scarce  a  leaf  had  fallen,  scarce  a  sprinkle  of  yellow  mingled 
with  the  hues  of  summer,  warned  you  that  autumn  had  begun.  The 
sky  was  cloudless ;  the  sun  shone  out  bright  and  warm ;  the  songs  of 
birds,  and  hum  of  myriads  of  summer  insects,  filled  the  air ;  and  the 
cottage  gardens,  crowded  with  flowers  of  every  rich  and  beautiful  tint, 
sparkled  in  the  heavy  dew,  like  beds  of  glittering  jewels.  Everything 
bore  the  stamp  of  summer,  and  none  of  its  beautiful  colours  had  yet 
faded  from  the  die. 

Such  was  the  morning,  when  an  open  carriage,  in  which  were  three 
Pickwickians,  (Mr.  Snodgrass  having  preferred  to  remain  at  home,)  Mr. 
Wardle,  and  Mr.  Trundle,  with  Sam  Weller  on  the  box  beside  the 
driver,  pulled  up  by  a  gate  at  the  road-side,  before  which  stood  a  tall, 
raw-boned  gamekeeper,  and  a  half-booted,  leather-leggined  boy  :  each 


188  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

bearing  a  bag  of  capacious  dimensions,  aad  accompanied  by  a  brace  of 
pointers. 

"  I  say,"  whispered  Mr.  Winkle  to  Wardle,  as  the  man  let  down  the 
Steps,  "  they  don't  suppose  we're  going  to  kill  game  enough  to  fill  those 
bags,  do  they  ?  " 

«  Fill  them  ! "  exclaimed  old  Wardle.  "  Bless  you,  yes !  You  shall  fill 
one,  and  I  the  other  ;  and  when  we've  done  with  them,  the  pockets  of 
our  shooting-jackets  will  hold  as  much  more." 

Mr.  Winkle  dismounted  without  saying  anything  in  reply  to  this 
observation  ;  but  he  thought  within  himself,  that  if  the  party  remained 
in  the  open  air,  till  he  had  filled  one  of  the  bags,  they  stood  a  considerable 
chance  of  catching  tolerable  colds  in  the  head. 

"  Hi,  Juno,  lass — hi,  old  girl ;  down,  Daph,  down,"  said  Wardle, 
caressing  the  dogs.  "  Sir  Geoffrey  still  in  Scotland,  of  course,  Martin?" 

The  tall  gamekeeper  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  looked  with  some 
surprise  from  Mr,  Winkle,  who  was  holding  his  gun  as  if  he  wished  his 
coat  pocket  to  save  him  the  trouble  of  pulling  the  trigger,  to  Mr.  Tup- 
man,  who  was  holding  his,  as  if  he  were  afraid  of  it — as  there  is  no 
earthly  reason  to  doubt  that  he  really  was. 

"  My  friends  are  not  much  in  the  way  of  this  sort  of  thing  yet, 
Martin,"  said  Wardle,  noticing  the  look.  "  Live  and  learn,  you  know. 
They'll  be  good  shots  one  of  these  days.  I  beg  my  friend  Winkle's 
pardon,  though  ;  he  has  had  some  practice." 

Mr.  Winkle  smiled  feebly  over  his  blue  neckerchief  in  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  compliment,  and  got  himself  so  mysteriously  entangled 
with  his  gun,  in  his  modest  confusion,  that  if  the  piece  had  been  loaded, 
he  must  inevitably  have  shot  himself  dead  upon  the  spot. 

"  You  mustn't  handle  your  piece  in  that  ere  way,  when  you  come  to 
have  the  charge  in  it,  Sir,"  said  the  tall  gamekeeper  gruffly,  "  or  I'm 
damned  if  you  won't  make  cold  meat  of  some  on  us." 

Mr.  Winkle,  thus  admonished,  abruptly  altered  its  position,  and  in  so 
doing,  contrived  to  bring  the  barrel  into  pretty  smart  contact  with  Mr. 
Weller's  head. 

"  Hallo  ! "  said  Sam,  picking  up  his  hat,  which  had  been  knocked  off, 
and  rubbing  his  temple.  "  Hallo,  Sir  !  if  you  comes  it  this  vay,  you'll 
fill  one  o*  them  bags,  and  something  to  spare,  at  one  fire." 

Here  the  leather-leggined  boy  laughed  very  heartily,  and  then  tried 
to  look  as  if  it  was  somebody  else,  whereat  Mr.  Winkle  frowned 
majestically. 

"  Where  did  you  tell  the  boy  to  meet  us  with  the  snack,  Martin?" 
inquired  Wardle. 

"  Side  of  One-tree  Hill,  at  twelve  o'clock.  Sir." 

"  That's  not  Sir  Geoffrey's  land,  is  it?" 

"No,  Sir;  but  it's  close  by  it.  It's  Captain  Boldwig's  land;  but 
there'll  be  nobody  to  interrupt  us,  and  there's  a  fine  bit  of  turf  there." 

"  Very  well,"  said  old  Wardle.  "  Now  the  sooner  we're  off  the  better. 
Will  you  join  us  at  twelve,  then,  Pickwick  ?  " 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  particularly  desirous  to  view  the  sport,  the  more 
especially  as  he  was  rather  anxious  in  respect  of  Mr.  Winkle's  life  and 


I 


Ik 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  189 

limbs.     On  so  inviting-  a  morning,  too,  it  was  very  tantalising  to  turn 
back,  and  leave  his  friends  to  enjoy  themselves.     It  was,  therefore,  with 
a  very  rueful  air  that  he  replied, — 
"  Why,  I  suppose  I  must." 

♦*  An't  the  gentleman  a  shot,  Sir?"  inquired  the  long  gamekeeper. 
"  No,"  replied  Wardle  ;  "  and  he's  lame  besides." 

"  I  should  very  much  like  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  — "  very 
much." 

There  was  a  short  pause  of  commiseration. 

"  There's  a  barrow  t'other  side  the  hedge,"  said  the  boy.  "  If  the 
gentleman's  servant  would  wheel  along  the  paths,  he  could  keep  nigh 
us,  and  we  could  lift  it  over  the  stiles  and  that." 

"  The  wery  thing,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  who  was  a  party  interested, 
inasmuch  as  he  ardently  longed  to  see  the  sport.  "  The  wery  thing. 
Well  said.  Small-check  ;  I'll  have  it  out,  in  a  minute." 

But  here  a  difficulty  arose.  The  long  gamekeeper  resolutely  pro- 
tested against  the  introduction  into  a  shooting-party,  of  a  gentleman  in 
a  barrow,  as  a  gross  violation  of  all  established  rules  and  precedents. 

It  was  a  great  objection,  but  not  an  insurmountable  one.  The  game- 
keeper having  been  coaxed  and  feed,  and  having,  moreover,  eased  his 
mind  by  "  punching"  the  head  of  the  inventive  youth  who  had  first 
suggested  the  use  of  the  machine,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  placed  in  it,  and 
off  the  party  set ;  Wardle  and  the  long  gamekeeper  leading  the  way, 
and  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  barrow,  propelled  by  Sam,  bringing  up  the 
rear. 

"  Stop,  Sara,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  they  had  got  half  across  the 
first  field. 

"  What's  the  matter  now  ?  "  said  Wardle. 

"  I  won't  suffer  this  barrow  to  be  moved  another  step,"  said  Mr. 
■Pickwick,  resolutely,  "  unless  Winkle  carries  that  gun  of  his,  in  a 
different  manner." 

"  How  am  I  to  carry  it?  "  said  the  wretched  Winkle. 

"  Carry  it  with  the  muzzle  to  the  ground,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  It's  so  unsportsman-like,"  reasoned  Winkle. 

"  I  don't  care  whether  it's  unsportsman-like  or  not,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick ;  "  I  am  not  going  to  be  shot  in  a  wheelbarrow,  for  the  sake 
of  appearances,  to  please  anybody." 

"  I  know  the  gentleman  '11  put  that  ere  charge  into  somebody  afore 
he's  done,"  growled  the  long  man. 

♦    "  Well,  well — I  don't  mind,"  said  poor  Mr.  Winkle,  turning  his  gun 
stock  uppermost ; — "  there." 

"  Anythin'  for  a  quiet  life,"  said  Mr.  Weller ;  and  on  they  went 
again. 

"  Stop,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  they  had  gone  a  few  yards  further. 

"  What  now?  "  said  Wardle. 

"  That  gun  of  Tupman's  is  not  safe :  I  know  it  isn't,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Eh  ?  What  i  not  safe  ? "  said  Mr.  Tupman,  in  a  tone  of  great 
alarm. 


190  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF  ■ 

"  Not  as  you  are  carrying  it/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  ^'  I  am  very  sorry  to 
make  any  further  objection,  but  I  cannot  consent  to  go  on,  unless  you 
carry  it,  as  Winkle  does  his." 

"  I  think  you  had  better,  Sir,"  said  the  long  gamekeeper,  "  or  you're 
quite  as  likely  to  lodge  the  charge  in  your  own  vestcoat  as  in  anybody 
else's.*' 

Mr.  Tupman,  with  the  most  obliging  haste,  placed  his  piece  in  the 
position  required,  and  the  party  moved  on  again ;  the  two  amateurs 
marching  with  reversed  arms,  like  a  couple  of  privates  at  a  royal 
funeral. 

The  dogs  suddenly  came  to  a  dead  stop,  and  the  party  advancing 
stealthily  a  single  pace,  stopped  too. 

'*  What's  the  matter  with  the  dogs'  legs  ?  "  whispered  Mr.  Winkle. 
"  How  queer  they're  standing." 

"  Hush,  can't  you  ?  "  replied  Wardle,  softly.  "  Don't  you  see,  they're 
making  a  point  ?  " 

"  Making  a  point !  "  said  Mr.  Winkle,  staring  about  him^  as  if  he 
expected  to  discover  some  particular  beauty  in  the  landscape,  which  the 
sagacious  animals  were  calling  special  attention  to.  "  Making  a  point ! 
W^hat  are  they  pointing  at  ?  " 

"  Keep  your  eyes  open,"  said  Wardle,  not  heeding  the  question  in 
the  excitement  of  the  moment.     "  Now  then." 

There  was  a  sharp  Whirring  noise,  that  made  Mr.  Winkle  start  back 
as  if  he  had  been  shot  himself.  Bang,  bang,  went  a  couple  of  guns ; — 
the  smoke  swept  quickly  away  over  the  field,  and  curled  into  the  air. 

"  Where  are  they  ?  "  said  Mr.  Winkle,  in  a  state  of  the  highest 
excitement,  turning  round  and  round  in  all  directions.  "  Where  are 
they  ?    Tell  me  when  to  fire.    Where  are  they — where  are  they  ?  " 

"  Where  are  they  I  "  said  Wardle,  taking  up  a  brace  of  birds  which 
the  dogs  had  deposited  at  his  feet.  "  Where  are  they !  Why,  here 
they  are." 

"  No,  no ;  I  mean  the  others,"  said  the  bewildered  Winkle. 

*'  Far  enough  oif,  by  this  time,"  replied  Wardle,  coolly  reloading 
his  gun. 

"  We  shall  very  likely  be  up  with  another  covey  in  five  minutes," 
said  the  long  gamekeeper.  "  If  the  gentleman  begins  to  fire  now, 
perhaps  he'll  just  get  the  shot  out  of  the  barrel  bv  the  time  they 
rise." 

"  Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  "  roared  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  compassionating  his  follower's  confusion 
and  embarrassment. 

'^  Sir." 

"  Don't  laugh." 

•'  Certainly  not,  Sir."  So,  by  way  of  indemnification,  Mr.  Welle 
contorted  his  features  from  behind  the  wheelbarrow,  for  the  exclusive 
amusement  of  the  boy  with  the  leggings,  who  thereupon  burst  into 
a  boisterous  laugh,  and  was  summarily  cuffed  by  the  long  game- 
keeper, who  wanted  a  pretext  for  turning  round,  to  hide  his  own 
merriment. 


1 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  191 

"  Bravo,  old  fellow  1  "  said  Wardle  to  Mr.  Tupnian  ;  "  yon  fired  that 
time,  at  all  events." 

"  Oh  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  with  conscious  pride.  "  I  let 
it  off." 

"  Well  done.  You'll  hit  something  next  time,  if  you  look  sharp. 
Very  easy,  ain't  it?" 

"  Yes,  it's  very  easy,"  said  Mr.  Tupman.  "  How  it  hurts  one's 
shoulder,  though.  It  nearly  knocked  me  backwards.  I  had  no  idea 
these  small  fire-arms  kicked  so." 

"Ah,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  smiling;  "you'll  get  used  to  it,  in 
time.     Now  then — all  ready — all  right  with  the  barrow  there?  " 

«  All  right.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Come  along  then." 

"  Hold  hard.  Sir,"  said  Sam,  raising  the  barrow, 

"  Aye,  aye,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick ;  and  on  they  went,  as  briskly  as 
need  be. 

"  Keep  that  barrow  back  now,"  cried  Wardle,  when  it  had  been 
hoisted  over  a  stile  into  another  field,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  had  been 
deposited  in  it  once  more. 

"  All  right.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  pausing. 

"  Now  Winkle,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  follow  me  softly,  and  don't 
be  too  late  this  time." 

"  Never  fear,"  said  Mr.  Winkle.     "  Are  they  pointing?" 

"  No,  no ;  not  now.  Quietly  now,  quietly."  On  they  crept,  and 
Tery  quietly  they  would  have  advanced,  if  Mr.  Winkle,  in  the  perform- 
ance of  some  very  intricate  evolutions  with  his  gun,  had  not  accidentally 
fired,  at  the  most  critical  moment,  over  the  boy's  head,  exactly  in  the 
Tery  spot  where  the  tall  man's  brain  would  have  been,  had  he  been 
there  instead. 

"  Why,  what  on  earth  did  you  do  that  for  ?  "  said  old  Wardle,  as  the 
birds  flew  unharmed  away. 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  gun  in  my  life,"  replied  poor  Winkle,  looking 
at  the  lock,  as  if  that  would  do  any  good.  "  It  goes  off,  of  its  own 
accord.     It  will  do  it." 

"  Will  do  it ! "  echoed  Wardle,  with  something  of  irritation  in  bis 
manner.     "  I  wish  it  would  kill  something  of  its  own  accord." 

«  It  '11  do  that  afore  long,  Sir,"  observed  the  tall  man,  in  a  low, 
prophetic  voice. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  observation,  Sir?"  inquired  Mr. Winkle, 
angrily. 

"Never  mind,  Sir— never  mind,"  replied  the  long  gamekeeper; — 
"  I've  no  family  myself,  Sir ;  and  this  here  boy's  mother  will  get  some- 
thing handsome  from  Sir  Geoffrey,  if  he's  killed  on  his  land.  Load 
again,  Sir — load  again." 

"  Take  away  his  gun,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick  from  the  barrow,  horror- 
stricken  at  the  long  man's  dark  insinuations.  "  Take  away  his  gun, 
do  you  hear,  somebody  ?  " 

Nobody,  however,  volunteered  to  obey  the  command;  and   Mr. 


192  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OP 

Winkle,  after  darting  a  rebellious  glance  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  reloaded  his 
gun,  and  proceeded  onwards  with  the  rest. 

We  are  bound,  on  the  authority  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  to  state,  that 
Mr.  Tupman's  mode  of  proceeding  evinced  far  more  of  prudence  and 
deliberation,  than  that  adopted  by  Mr.  Winkle.  Still,  this  by  no  means 
detracts  from  the  great  authority  of  the  latter  gentleman,  on  all  matters 
connected  with  the  field  ;  because,  as  Mr.  Pickwick  beautifully  observes, 
it  has  somehow  or  other  happened,  from  time  immemorial,  that  many 
of  the  best  and  ablest  philosophers,  who  have  been  perfect  lights  of 
science  in  matters  of  theory,  have  been  wholly  unable  to  reduce  them 
to  practice. 

Mr.  Tupman's  process,  like  many  of  our  most  sublime  discoveries, 
was  extremely  simple.  With  the  quickness  and  penetration  of  a  man 
of  genius,  he  had  at  once  observed  that  the  two  great  points  to  be 
attained  were — first,  to  discharge  his  piece  without  injury  to  himself, 
and,  secondly,  to  do  so,  without  danger  to  the  by-standers  ; — obviously, 
the  best  thing  to  do,  after  surmounting  the  difficulty  of  firing  at  all, 
was  to  shut  his  eyes  firmly,  and  fire  into  the  air. 

On  one  occasion,  after  performing  this  feat,  Mr.  Tupman,  on  opening 
his  eyes,  beheld  a  plump  partridge  in  the  very  act  of  falling  wounded  to 
the  ground.  He  was  just  on  the  point  of  congratulating  Wardle  on 
his  invariable  success,  when  that  gentleman  advanced  towards  him,  and 
grasped  him  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"  Tupman,"  said  the  old  gentleman, ''  you  singled  out  that  particular 
bird  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Tupman—"  no." 

"  You  did,"  said  Wardle.  "  I  saw  you  do  it — I  observed  you  pick 
him  out — I  noticed  you^  as  you  raised  your  piece  to  take  aim ;  and  I 
will  say  this,  that  the  best  shot  in  existence  could  not  have  done  it 
more  beautifully.  You  are  an  older  hand  at  this,  than  I  thought  you, 
Tupman  ; — you  have  been  out  before." 

It  was  in  vain  for  Mr.  Tupman  to  protest,  with  a  smile  of  self-denial, 
that  he  never  had.  The  very  smile  was  taken  as  evidence  to  the  con- 
trary ;  and  from  that  time  forth,  his  reputation  was  established.  It  is 
not  the  only  reputation  that  has  been  acquired  as  easily,  nor  are  such 
fortunate  circumstances  confined  to  partridge-shooting. 

Meanwhile,    Mr.   Winkle   flashed,    and   blazed,  and    smoked   away, 
without  producing  any  material  results  worthy  of  being  noted  down  jj 
sometimes  expending  his  charge  in  mid-air,  and  at  others  sending  itj 
skimming  along  so  near  the  surface  of  the  ground,  as  to  place  the  livet 
of  the  two  dogs  on  a  rather  uncertain  and  precarious  tenure.     As  a] 
display  of  fancy- shooting,  it  was  extremely  varied  and  curious;  as  an' 
exhibition  of  firing  with  any  precise  object,  it  was,  upon  the  whole, 
perhaps  a  failure.     It  is  an  established  axiom,  that  "  every  bullet  has 
its  billet."     If  it   apply  in   an   equal   degree  to  shots,  those  of  Mr. 
Winkle  were  unfortunate  foundlings,  deprived  of  their  natural  rights, 
cast  loose  upon  the  world,  and  billeted  nowhere. 

"Well,"  said  Wardle,  walking  up  to  the  side  of  the  barrow,  and 


I 


TIIL    IMCKWJCK    CLUB.  193 


wipinp^  the  streams  of  perspiration  from  his  jolly  red  face;  *•' smoking 
day,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  indeed,"  replied   Mr.  Pickwick.     "  The  sun  is  tremendously 
hot,  even  to  me.     1  don't  know  how  you  must  feel  it." 

"  Why/'  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  pretty  hot.  It's  past  twelve, 
though.     You  see  that  green  hill  there  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  That's  the  place  where  we  are  to  lunch  ;  and,  by  Jove,  there's  the 
boy  with  the  l)asket,  punctual  as  clock-work." 

"  So  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  brightening  up.  "  Good  boy,  that. 
I'll  give  him  a  sHiilling,  presently.     Now,  then,  Sam,  wheel  away." 

"  Hold  on.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  invigorated  with  the  prospect  of 
refreshments.  *'  Out  of  the  vay,  young  leathers.  If  you  walley  my 
precious  life  don't  upset  me,  as  the  genTman  said  to  the  driver,  when 
they  was  a  carry  in'  him  to  Tyburn."  And  quickening  his  pace  to  a 
sharp  run,  Mr.  Weller  wheeled  his  mtister  nimbly  to  the  green  hill,  shot 
him  dexterously  out  by  the  very  side  of  the  basket,  and  proceeded  to 
unpack  it  with  the  utmost  dispatch. 

"  Weal  pie,"  said  Mr.  WeWer,  soliloquising,  as  he  arranged  the  eatables 
on  the  grass.  *'  Wery  good  thing  is  a  weal  pie,  when  you  know  the 
lady  as  made  it,  and  is  quite  sure  it  an't  kittens ;  and  arter  all  though, 
Where's  the  odds,  when  they're  so  like  weal  that  the  wery  piemen  them- 
selves don't  know  the  difference  ?  " 

"  Don't  they,  Sam  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Not  they.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  touching  his  hat.  "  I  lodged 
in  the  same  house  vith  a  pieman  once.  Sir,  and  a  wery  nice  man  he 
was — reg'lar  clever  chap,  too — make  pies  out  o'  anything,  he  could. 
*  What  a  number  o'  cats  you  keep,  Mr.  Brooks/  says  I,  when  I'd  got 
intimate  with  him.  '  Ah,*  says  he,  '  I  do — a  good  many/  says  he.  *  You 
must  be  wery  fond  o'  cats/  says  I.  '  Other  people  is,'  says  he,  a  winkin' 
at  me  ;  *  they  an't  in  season  till  the  winter  though,'  says  he.  *  Not  in 
season  !  '  says  I.  *  No,'  says  he,  '  fruits  is  in,  cats  is  out.'  '  Why, 
what  do  you  mean  ?  '  says  I.  '  Mean  ?  '  says  he.  '  That  I'll  never  be  a 
party  to  the  combination  o'  the  butchers,  to  keep  up  the  prices  o'  meat,' 
says  he.  '  Mr.  Weller,'  says  he,  squeezing  my  hand  wery  hard,  and 
vispering  in  my  ear — '  don't  mention  this  here  agin,  but  it's  the  sea- 
sonin'  as  does  it.  They're  all  made  o'  them  noble  animals/  says  he, 
a  pointin'  to  a  wery  nice  little  tabby  kitten,  *  and  I  seasons  'em  for  beef- 
steak, weal,  or  kidney,  'cordin  to  the  demand  ;  and  more  than  that,' 
says  he,  '  I  can  make  a  weal  a  beef-steak,  or  a  beef-steak  a  kidney,  or 
any  one  on  'em  a  mutton,  at  a  minute's  notice,  just  as  the  market 
changes,  and  appetites  wary  I  ' " 

"  He  must  have  been  a  very  ingenious  young  man,  that,  Sam/'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  slight  shudder. 

"  Just  was,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  continuing  his  occupation  of 
emptying  the  basket,  "  and  the  pies  was  beautiful.  Tongue ;  well  that's 
a  wery  good  thing,  when  it  an't  a  woman's.  Bread — knuckle  o'  ham, 
reg'lar  picter — cold  beef  in  slices,  wery  good.  What's  in  them  stone 
jars,  young  touch-and-go  ?  " 


194  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Beer  in  this  one,"  replied  the  boy,  taking-  from  his  shoulder  a  couple 
of  larg-e  stone  bottles,  fastened  tO;£;ether  bv  a  leathern  strap—"  cold 
punch  in  t'other."  "  ^''^'. 

"  And  a  wery  good  notion  of  a  lunch  it  is,  take  it  altogetheri'^^Vatd 
Mr.  Weller,  surveying-  his  arrangement  of  the  repast  with  great  satis- 
faction. "  Now,  genTmen,  '  fall  on,'  as  the  English  said  to  the  French 
when  they  fixed  bagginets." 

It  needed  no  second  invitation  to  induce  the  party  to  yield  full  justice 
to  the  meal ;  and  as  little  pressing  did  it  require,  to  induce  Mr.  Weller, 
the  long  gamekeeper,  and  the  two  boys,  to  station  themselves  on  the 
grass  at  a  little  distance,  and  do  good  execution  upon  a  decent  propor- 
tion of  the  viands.  An  old  oak  tree  afforded  a  pleasant  shelter  to  the 
group,  and  a  rich  prospect  of  arable  and  meadow  land,  intersected  with 
luxuriant  hedges,  and  richly  ornamented  with  wood>  lay  spread  out 
below  them. 

"  This  is  delightful — thoroughly  delightful  I  '*  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
the  skin  of  whose  expressive  countenance,  was  rapidly  peeling  off,  with 
exposure  to  the  sun. 

*^  So  it  is — so  it  is,  old  fellow,"  replied  Wardle.  '*  Come  ;  a  glass  of 
punch." 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  and  the  satisfaction  of  his 
countenance  after  drinking  it,  bore  testimony  to  the  sincerity  of  the 
reply. 

"  Good,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smacking  his  lips.  "  Very  good.  I'll 
oake  another.  Cool ;  very  cool.  Come,  gentlemen,"  continued  Mr. 
Pickwick,  still  retaining  his  hold  upon  the  jar,  "  a  toast.  Our  friends 
at  Dingley  Dell." 

The  toast  was  drunk  with  loud  acclamations. 

*'  I'll  tell  you  what  I  shall  do,  to  get  up  my  shooting  again,"  said 
Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  eating  bread  and  ham  with  a  pocket-knife.  *'  I'll 
put  a  stuffed  partridge  on  the  top  of  a  post,  and  practise  at  it,  beginning 
at  a  short  distance,  and  lengthening  it  by  degrees.  I  understand  it's 
capital  practice." 

*'  I  know  a  genTman,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "  as  did  that,  and  begun 
at  two  yards ;  but  he  never  tried  it  on  agin ;  for  he  blowed  the  bird 
right  clean  away  at  the  first  fire,  and  nobody  ever  seed  a  feather  on  him 
arterwards." 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  reserve  your  anecdotes,  'till  they  are  called 
for." 

"  Cert'nly,  Sir.'' 

Here  Mr.  W^eller  winked  the  eye  which  was  not  concealed  by  the 
beer-can  he  was  raising  to  his  lips,  with  such  exquisite  facetiousness, 
that  the  two  boys  went  into  spontaneous  convulsions,  and  even  the 
long  man  condescended  to  smile. 

"  Well,  that  certainly  is  most  capital  cold  punch,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, looking  earnestly  at  the  stone  bottle  ;  "  and  the  day  is  extremely 
warm,  and — Tupman,  my  dear  friend^  a  glass  of  punch  ?  " 


THE     PICKWICK    CLUB.  195 

«  Witli  the  greatest  delight,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman;  and  liaving- drunk 
that  glass,  Mr.  Pickwick  took  another,  just  to  see  whether  there  was 
any  orange  peel  in  the  punch,  because  orange  peel  always  disagreed  with 
him  ;  and  finding  that  there  was  not,  Mr.  Pickwick  took  another  glass 
to  the  health  of  their  absent  friend,  and  then  felt  himself  imperatively 
called  upon  to  propose  another  in  honour  of  the  punch-compounder, 
unknown. 

This  constant  succession  of  glasses,  produced  considerable  effect  upon 
Mr.  Pickwick ;  his  countenance  beamed  with  the  most  sunny  smiles, 
laughter  played  around  his  lips,  and  good-humoured  merriment  twinkled 
in  his  eye.  Yielding  by  degrees  to  the  influence  of  the  exciting  liquid- 
rendered  more  so  by  the  heat,  Mr.  Pickwick  expressed  a  strong  desire 
to  recollect  a  song  which  he  had  heard  in  his  infancy,  and  the  attempt 
proving  abortive,  sought  to  stimulate  his  memory  with  more  glasses  of 
punch,  which  appeared  to  have  quite  a  contrary  effect ;  for,  from  forget, 
ting  the  words  of  the  song,  he  began  to  forget  how  to  articulate  any 
words  at  all ;  and  finally,  after  rising  to  his  legs  to  address  the  company 
in  an  eloquent  speech,  he  fell  into  the  barrow,  and  fast  asleep,  simul- 
taneously. 

The  basket  having  been  repacked,  and  it  being  found  perfectly  impossi- 
ble to  awaken  Mr.  Pickwick  from  his  torpor,  some  discussion  took  place 
whether  it  would  be  better  for  Mr.  Weller  to  wheel  his  master  back 
again,  or  to  leave  him  where  he  was,  until  they  should  all  be  ready  to 
return.  The  latter  course  was  at  length  decided  on  ;  and  as  their  further 
expedition  was  not  to  exceed  an  hour's  duration,  and  as  Mr.  Weller 
begged  very  hard  to  be  one  of  the  party,  it  was  determined  to  leave  Mr. 
Pickwick  asleep  in  the  barrow,  and  to  call  for  him  on  their  return.  So 
away  they  went,  leaving  Mr.  Pickwick  snoring  most  comfortably  in  the 
shade. 

That  Mr.  Pickwick  would  have  continued  to  snore  in  the  shade  until 
his  friends  came  back,  or,  in  default  thereof  until  the  shades  of  evening 
had  fallen  on  the  landscape,  there  appears  no  reasonable  cause  to  doubt; 
always  supposing  that  he  had  been  suffered  to  remain  there,  in  peace. 
But  he  was  not  suffered  to  remain  there  in  peace.  And  this  is  what 
prevented  him. 

Captain  Boldwig  was  a  little  fierce  man  in  a  stiff  black  neckerchief 
and  blue  surtout,  who,  when  he  did  condescend  to  walk  about  his  pro- 
perty, did  it  in  company  with  a  thick  rattan  stick  with  a  brass  ferrule, 
and  a  gardener  and  sub-gardener  with  meek  faces,  to  whom  (the  gar- 
deners, not  the  stick)  Captain  Boldwig  gave  bis  orders  with  all  due 
grandeur  and  ferocity  :  for  Captain  Bold  wig's  wife's  sister  bad  married 
a  Marquis,  and  the  Captain's  house  was  a  villa,  and  his  land  "  grounds," 
and  it  was  all  very  high,  and  mighty,  and  great. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  not  been  asleep  half  an  hour,  when  little  Captain 
Boldwig,  followed  by  the  two  gardeners,  came  striding  along  as  fast  as 
his  size  and  importance  would  let  him  ;  and  when  he  came  near  the  oak 
tree.  Captain  Boldwig  paused,  and  drew  a  long  breath,  and  looked  at  the 
prospect,  as  if  he  thought  the  prospect  ought  to  be  highly  gratified  at 

R 


196  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

having-  him  to  take  notice  of  it ;  and  then  he  struck  the  ground  enapha- 
lically  with  his  stick,  and  summoned  the  head-gardener. 

"  Hunt,"  said  Captain  Bold  wig. 

*'  Yes,  Sir,"  said  the  gardener. 

"  Roll  this  place  to-morrow  morning — do  you  hear.  Hunt?  " 

*'  Yes,  Sir." 

"  And  take  care  that  you  keep  me  this  place  in  good  order — do  you 
hear.  Hunt  ?  " 

«  Yes,  Sir." 

"  And  remind  me  to  have  a  board  done  about  trespassers,  and  spring 
guns,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  to  keep  the  common  people  out.  Do 
you  hear.  Hunt ;  do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  I'll  not  forget  it,  Sir." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Sir,"  said  the  other  man,  advancing,  with  his 
hand  to  his  hat. 

"  Well,  Wilkins,  what's  the  matter  with  j/om  ?  "  said  Captain  Boldwig. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir — but  I  think  there  have  been  trespassers 
here  to-day." 

*'  Ha  I "  said  the  Captain,  scowling  around  him. 

"  Yes,  Sir — they  have  been  dining  here,  I  think.  Sir.'* 

<*  Why,  damn  their  audacity,  so  they  have,"  said  Captain  Boldwig, 
as  the  crumbs  and  fragments  that  were  strewn  upon  the  grass,  met  his 
eye.  *'  They  have  actually  been  devouring  their  food  here.  I  wish  I 
had  the  vagabonds  here  !  "  said  the  Captain,  clenching  the  thick  stick. 

"  I  wish  I  had  the  vagabonds  here,"  said  the  Captain  wrathfuUy. 

''  Beg  your  pardon,  Sir,"  said  Wilkins,  "  but — " 

"  But  what  ?  Eh  ?  "  roared  the  Captain  ;  and  following  the  timid 
glance  of  Wilkins,  his  eyes  encountered  the  wheelbarrow  and  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Who  are  you,  you  rascal  ?  "  said  the  Captain,  administering  several 
pokes  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  body  with  the  thick  stick.  "  What's  your 
namer 

"  Cold  punch,"  murmured  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  sunk  to  sleep  again. 

•'  What  ?  "  demanded  Captain  Boldwig. 

No  reply. 

"  What  did  he  say  his  name  was  ?  "  asked  the  Captain. 
•     "  Punch,  I  think.  Sir,"  replied  Wilkins. 

"  That's  his  impudence — that's  his  confounded  impudence,"  said 
Captain  Boldwig.  ''  He's  only  feigning  to  be  asleep  now,"  said  the 
Captain,  in  a  high  passion.  "  He's  drunk;  he's  a  drunken  plebeian. 
W^heel  him  away,  Wilkins,  wheel  him  away  directly." 

«  Where  shall  I  wheel  him  to,  Sir?"  inquired  Wilkins,  with  great 

timidity. 

«  Wheel  him  to  the  Devil,"  replied  Captain  Boldwig. 

"  Very  well.  Sir/'  said  Wilkins. 

"  Stay,"  said  the  Captain. 

Wilkins  stopped  accordingly. 

"  Wheel  him,"  said  the  Captain,  «  wheel  him  to  the  pound  ;  and  .et 


f^ 


Ti 


/>tt^r-  fpy 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  197 

•US  see  whether  he  calls  himself  Punch,  when  he  comes  to  himself.     He 
shall  not  bully  me — he  shall  not  bully  me.     Wheel  him  away." 

Away  Mr.  Pickwick  was  wheeled  in  compliance  with  this  imperious 
mandate  ;  and  the  great  Captain  Boldwig",  swelling  with  indignation, 
proceeded  on  his  walk. 

Inexpressible  was  the  astonishment  of  the  little  party  when  they 
returned,  to  find  that  Mr.  Pickwick  had  disappeared,  and  taken  the 
wheelbarrow  with  him.  It  was  the  most  mysterious  and  unaccountable 
thing  that  was  ever  heard  of.  For  a  lame  man  to  have  got  upon  his 
legs  without  any  previous  notice,  and  walked  off,  would  have  been  most 
extraordinary ;  but  when  it  came  to  his  wheeling  a  heavy  barrow  before 
him,  by  way  of  amusement,  it  grew  positively  miraculous.  They  searched 
every  nook  and  corner  round,  together  and  separately  :  they  shouted, 
whistled,  laughed,  called — and  all  with  the  same  result.  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  not  to  be  found  ;  and  after  some  hours  of  fruitless  search,  they 
arrived  at  the  unwelcome  conclusion,  that  they  must  g-o  home  without 
him. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  wheeled  to  the  Pound,  and  safely 
deposited  therein,  fast  asleep  in  the  wheelbarrow,  to  the  immeasurable 
delight  and  satisfaction,  not  only  of  all  the  boys  in  the  village,  but  three 
fourths  of  the  whole  population,  who  had  gathered  round  in  expectation 
of  his  waking.  If  their  most  intense  gratification  had  been  awakened 
by  seeing  him  wheeled  in,  how  many  hundred-fold  was  their  joy  increased 
when,  after  a  few  indistinct  cries  of  "  Sam  ! "  he  sat  up  in  the  barrow, 
and  gazed  with  indescribable  astonishment  on  the  faces  before  him. 

A  general  shout  was  of  course  the  signal  of  his  having  woke  up  ;  and 
his  involuntary  inquiry  of  "  What's  the  matter?"  occasioned  another, 
louder  than  the  first,  if  possible. 

"  Here's  a  game,"  roared  the  populace. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'*  In  the  Pound,"  replied  the  mob. 

"  How  came  I  here  ?  What  was  I  doing  ?  Where  was  I  brought 
from?" 

"  Boldwig — Captain  Boldwig,"  was  the  only  reply. 

"  Let  me  out,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Where's  ray  servant  ?  Where 
are  my  friends  ?  " 

"  You  ah't  got  no  friends.  Hurrah !  "  And  then  there  came  a 
turnip,  and  then  a  potato,  and  then  an  egg,  with  a  few  other  little 
tokens  of  the  playful  disposition  of  the  many-headed. 

How  long  this  scene  might  have  lasted,  or  how  much  Mr.  Pickwick 
might  have  suffered,  no  one  can  tell,  had  not  a  carriage  which  was 
driving  swiftly  by,  suddenly  pulled  up,  from  whence  there  descended 
old  Wardle  and  Sam  Weller,  the  former  of  whom,  in  far  less  time  than 
it  takes  to  write  it,  if  not  to  read  it,  had  made  his  way  to  Mr.  Pickwick's 
side,  and  placed  him  in  the  vehicle,  just  as  the  latter  had  concluded  the 
third  and  last  round  of  a  single  combat  with  the  town-beadle. 

''  Run  to  the  Justice's,"  cried  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Ah,  run  avay,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  jumping  up  on  the  box.  **  Give 
ray  compliments — Mr.  Veller's  compliments — to  the  Justice,   and  tell 

R  2 


\1^8  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Ijim  I've  spoilt  his  beadle,  and  tliat,  if  he'll  sveurin  a  new  'nn,  Til  come 
))ack  agin  to-morrow  and  spoil  him.     Drive  on,  old  feller."  '' 

"  I'll  give  directions  for  the  commencement  of  an  action  for  false 
imprisonment  against  this  Captain  Boldwig,  directly  I  get  to  London^" 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  soon  as  the  carriage  turned  out  of  the  town.       ; 

<'  We  were  trespassing,  it  seems,"  said  Wardle. 

"  I, don't  care,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I'll  bring  the  action." 

"  No,  you  won't,"  said  Wardle. 

"  I  will,  by — "  but  as  there  was  a  humorous  expression  in  Wardle's 
fiicef  Mr.  Pickwick  checked  himself,  and  said — "  Why  not  ?  " 

''  Because,"  said  old  Wardle,  half-bursting  with  laughter,  *<  because 
they  might  turn  round  on  some  of  us,  and  say  we  had  taken  too  much 
cold  punch." 

Do  what  he  would,  a  smile  would  come  into  Mr.  Pickwick's  face ;  the 
smile  extended  into  a  laugh,  the  laugh  into  a  roar,  and  the  roar  became 
general.  So,  to  keep  up  their  good  humour,  they  stopped  at  the  first 
road-side  tavern  they  came  to,  and  ordered  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water 
all  round,  with  a  magnum  of  extra  strength,  for  Mr.  Samuel  Weller. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

SHOWING  HOW  DODSON  AND  FOGG  WERE  MEN  OF  BUSINESS,  AND 
THEIR  CLERKS  MEN  OF  PLEASURE;  AND  HOW  AN  AFFECTING 
INTERVIEW  TOOK  PLACE  BETWEEN  MR.  WELLER  AND  HIS  LONG- 
LOST  PARENT;  SHOWING  ALSO,  WHAT  CHOICE  SPIRITS  ASSEMBLED 
AT  THE  MAGPIE  AND  STUMP,  AND  WHAT  A  CAPITAL  CHAPTER 
THE    NEXT    ONE    WILL    BE. 

In  the  ground-floor  front  of  a  dingy  house,  at  the  very  furthest  end  of 
Freeman's  Court,  Cornhill,  sat  the  four  clerks  of  Messrs.  Dodson  and 
Fogg,  two  of  His  Majesty's  Attorneys  of  the  Courts  of  King's  Bench 
and  Common  Pleas  at  Westminster,  and  solicitors  of  the  High  Court  of 
Chancery :  the  aforesaid  clerks  catching  about  as  favourable  glimpses  of 
Heaven's  light  and  Heaven's  sun,  in  the  course  of  their  daily  labours, 
as  a  man  might  hope  to  do,  were  he  placed  at  the  bottom  of  a  reasonably 
Jc-ep  well ;  and  without  the  opportunity  of  perceiving  the  stars  in  the 
day-time,  which  the  latter  secluded  situation  affords. 

The  clerks'  office  of  Messrs,  Dodson  and  Fogg  was  a  dark,  mouldy, 
earthy-smelling  room,  with  a  high  wainscotted  partition  to  screen  the 
clerks  from  the  vulgar  gaze  :  a  couple  of  old  wooden  chairs,  a  very  loud- 
ticking  clock,  an  almanack,  an  umbrella-stand,  a  row  of  hat  pegs,  and  a 
few  shelves,  on  which  were  deposited  several  ticketed  bundles  of  dirty 
papers,  some  old  deal  boxes  with  paper  labels,  and  sundry  decayed  stone 
ink  bottles  of  various  shapes  and.sizes.  There  was  a  glass  door  leading 
into  the  passage  which  formed  the  entrance  to  the  court,  and  on  the 
outer  side  of  this  glass  door,  Mr.  Pickwick,  closely  followed  by  Sam 
Weller,  presented  himself  on  the  Friday  morning  succeeding  the  occur- 
rence, of  which  a  faithful  narration  is  given  in  the  last  chapter. 

"  Come  in,  can't  you,"  cried  a  voice  from  behind  the  partition,  in 
reply  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  gentle  tap  at  the  door.  And  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  Sara  entered  accordingly. 


%IIE  PICKWICK    CLUB.  199 

"  Mr.  Dodson  or  Mr.  Fog:g:  at  home,  Sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickvnck, 
gt  ntly,  advancing,  hat  in  hand,  towards  the  partition. 

"  Mr.  Dodson  ain't  at  home,  and  Mr.  Fogg's  particularly  engaged," 
replied  the  voice  ;  and  at  the  same  time  the  head  to  which  the  voice 
belonged,  with  a  pen  behind  its  ear,  looked  over  the  partition,  and  at 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

It  was  a  ragged  head,  the  sandy  hair  of  which,  scrupulously  parted 
on  one  side,  and  flattened  down  with  pomatum,  was  twisted  into  little 
serai-circular  tails  round  a  flat  face  ornamented  with  a  pair  of  small  eyes, 
and  garnished  with  a  very  dirty  shirt-collar,  and  a  rusty  black  stock. 

"  Mr.  Dodson  ain't  at  home,  and  Mr.  Fogg's  particularly  engaged," 
said  the  man  to  whom  the  head  belonged. 

**  When  will  Mr.  Dodson  be  back,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick 

"  Can't  say." 

**  Will  it  be  long  before  Mr.  Fogg  is  disengaged,  sir  ?  " 

"  Don't  know." 

Here  the  man  proceeded  to  mend  his  pen  with  great  deliberation, 
while  another  clerk,  who  was  mixing  a  Seidlitz  powder,  under  cover  of 
the  lid  of  his  desk,  laughed  approvingly. 

♦<  I  think  I'll  wait,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  There  was  no  reply  ;  so 
Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  unbidden,  and  listened  to  the  loud  ticking  of  the 
clock  and  the  murmured  conversation  of  the  clerks. 

*'  That  was  a  game,  wasn't  it?"  said  one  of  the  gentlemen,  in  a 
brown  coat  and  brass  buttons,  inky  drabs,  and  bluchers,  at  the  conclusion 
of  some  inaudible  relation  of  his  previous  evening's  adventures. 

"  Devilish  good — devilish  good,"  said  the  Seidlitz-powder  man. 

"  Tom  Cummins  was  in  the  chair,"  said  the  man  with  the  brown  coat ; 
'*  It  was  half-past  four  when  I  got  to  Somers  Town,  and  then  I  was  so 
precious  drunk,  that  I  couldn't  find  the  place  where  the  latch-key  went 
in,  and  was  obliged  to  knock  up  the  old  'ooman.  I  say,  I  wonder 
what  old  Fogg  'ud  say,  if  he  knew  it.  I  should  get  the  sack,  I 
s'pose — eh  ?  " 

At  this  humorous  notion,  all  the  clerks  laughed  in  concert. 

"  There  was  such  a  game  with  Fogg  here,  this  mornin*,''  said  the  man 
in  the  brown  coat,  "  while  Jack  was  up  stairs  sorting  the  papers,  and 
you  two  were  gone  to  the  stamp-office.  Fogg  was  down  here  opening 
the  letters,  when  that  chap  as  we  issued  the  writ  against  at  Camberwell, 
you  know,  came  in — what's  his  name  again  ?" 

"  Ramsey,"  said  the  clerk  who  had  spoken  to  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Ah,  Ramsey — a  precious  seedy-looking  customer.  *  Well,  sir,* 
says  old  Fogg,  looking  at  him  very  fierce — you  know  his  way — *  well, 
sir,  have  you  come  to  settle?'  *  Yes,  I  have,  Sir,'  said  Ramsey,  put- 
ting his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  bringing  out  the  money,  '  the  debt's 
two  pound  ten,  and  the  costs  three  pourki  five,  and  h^re  it  is,  Sir;'  and 
he  sighed  like  bricks,  as  he  lugged  out  the  money,  done  up  in  a  bit  of 
blotting-paper.  Old  Fogg  looked  first  at  the  money,  and  then  at  him, 
and  then  he  coughed  in  his  rum  way,  so  that  I  knew  something  was 
coming,  *  You  don't  know  there's  a  declaration  filed,  which  increases 
the  costs  materially,  I  suppose?'  said  Fogg.     '  You  don't  say  that,  Sir,' 


200  POSTHUMOUS    PAl'ERS    OP 

said  Ramsey,  starting  back ;  *  the  time  was  only  out,  last  night.  Sir.' 
'  I  do  say  it,  though,'  said  Fogg,  <  my  clerk's  just  gone  to  tile  it. 
Hasn't  Mr.  Jackson  gone  to  file  that  declaration  in  Bullman  and 
Ramsey,  Mr.  Wicks  ? '  Of  course  I  said  yes,  and  then  Fogg  coughed 
again,  and  looked  at  Ramsey.  *  My  God!'  said  Ramsey;  *  and  here 
have  I  nearly  driven  myself  mad,  scraping  this  money  together,  and  all 
to  no  purpose.'  '  None  at  all,'  said  Fogg,  coolly ;  *  so  you  had  better 
go  back  and  scrape  some  more  together,  and  bring  it  here  in  time.* 
'  I  can't  get  it,  by  God,'  said  Ramsey,  striking  the  desk  with  his  fist. 

•  Don't   bully  me.  Sir,'  said  Fogg,  getting   into  a  passion  on  purpose. 

•  I  am  not  bullying   you.    Sir,'  said  Ramsey.     *  You   are,'  said   Fogg  ; 

•  get  out.  Sir  ;  get  out  of  this  office.  Sir,  and  come  back.  Sir,  when  you 
know  how  to  behave  yourself.'  Well,  Ramsey  tried  to  speak,  but  Fogg 
wouldn't  let  him,  so  he  put  the  money  in  his  pocket,  and  sneaked  out. 
The  door  was  scarcely  shut,  when  old  Fogg  turned  round  to  me,  with  a 
sweet  smile  on  his  face,  and  drew  the  declaration  out  of  his  coat  pocket. 
'  Here,  Wicks,'  says  Fogg,  '  take  a  cab,  and  go  down  to  the  Temple 
as  quick  as  you  can,  and  file  that.  The  cosfs  are  quite  safe,  for  he's  a 
steady  man  with  a  large  family,  at  a  salary  of  five-and-twenty  shillings 
a  week,  and  if  he  gives  us  a  warrant  of  attorney,  as  he  must  in  the  end, 
1  know  his  employers  will  see  it  paid ;  so  we  may  as  well  get  all  we  can 
out  of  him,  Mr.  Wicks  ;  it's  a  Christian  act  to  do  it,  Mr.  Wicks,  for 
with  his  large  family  and  small  income,  he'll  be  all  the  better  for  a  good 
lesson  against  getting  into  debt, — won't  he,  Mr.  Wicks,  won't  he  ?' — 
and  he  smiled  so  goodnaturedly  as  he  went  away,  that  it  was  delightful 
to  see  him.  He  is  a  capital  man  of  business,"  said  Wicks^  in  a  tone  of 
the  deepest  admiration,  ''  capital,  isn't  he  ?  " 

The  other  three  cordially  subscribed  to  this  opinion,  and  the  anecdote 
afforded  the  most  unlimited  satisfaction. 

"  Nice  men  these  here,  Sir,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller  to  his  master ; 
'*  wery  nice  notion  of  fun  they  has.  Sir." 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  assent,  and  coughed  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  young  gentlemen  behind  the  partition,  who,  having  now  relaxed 
their  minds  by  a  little  conversation  among  themselves,  condescended  to 
taket  some  notice  of  the  stranger. 

*'  I  wonder  whether  Fogg's  disengaged  now?"  said  Jackson. 

"  I'll  see,"  said  W^icks,  dismounting  leisurely  from  his  stool.  '*  What 
name  shall  I  tell  Mr.  Fogg  ?  " 

"  Pickwick,"  replied  the  illustrious  subject  of  these  memoirs. 

Mr.  Jackson  departed  up  stairs  on  his  errand,  and  immediately  re- 
turned with  a  message  that  Mr.  Fogg  would  see  Mr.  Pickwick  in  five 
minutes ;  and  having  delivered  it,  returned  ag^in  to  his  desk. 

"  What  did  he  say  his  name  was  ?  "  whispered  Wicks. 

"  Pickwick,"  replied  ,Tackson  ;  "  it's  the  defendant  in  Bardell  and 
Pickwick." 

A  sudden  scraping  of  feet,  mingled  with  the  sound  of  suppressed 
laughter,  was  heard  from  behind  the  partition. 
,      "  They're  a  twiggin'  you,  Sir,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Twigging  me,  Sam  ! "  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  what  do  you  mean 
by  twigging  me?" 


If 

I 

i' :  \ 


li 


•  !   i 


/Jo^e  <?^/ 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  201 

Mr.  Weller  replied  by  pointing  with  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder 
and  Mr.  Pickwick,  on  looking  up,  became  sensible  of  the  pleasing  fact, 
that  all  the  four  clerks,  with  countenances  expressive  of  the  utmost 
amusement,  and  their  heads  thrust  over  the  wooden  screen,  were 
minutely  inspecting  the  figure  and  general  appearance  of  the  supposed 
trifler  with  female  hearts,  and  disturber  of  female  happiness.  On  his 
looking  up,  the  row  of  heads  suddenly  disappeared,  and  the  sound  of 
pens  travelling  at  a  furious  rate  over  paper,  immediately  succeeded. 

A  sudden  ring  at  the  bell  which  hung  in  the  oflBce,  summoned  Mr. 
Jackson  to  the  apartment  of  Fogg,  from  whence  he  came  back  to  say 
that  he  (Fogg)  was  ready  to  see  Mr.  Pickwick  if  he  would  step  up 
stairs. 

Up  stairs  Mr.  Pickwick  did  step  accordingly,  leaving  Sam  Weller 
below.  The  room  door  of  the  one-pair  back,  bore  inscribed  in  legible 
characters  the  imposing  words  ''Mr.  Fogg;"  and,  having  tapped 
thereat,  and  been  desired  to  come  in,  Jackson  ushered  Mr.  Pickwick 
into  the  presence. 

"  Is  Mr.  Dodson  in  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Fogg. 

"  Just  come  in,  Sir,"  replied  Jackson. 

"  Ask  him  to  step  here." 

"  Yes,  Sir."     Exit  Jackson. 

*'  Take  a  seat,  sir,"  said  Fogg  ;  "  there  is  the  paper?  Sir :  my  partner 
will  be  here  directly,  and  we  can  converse  about  this  matter,  Sir." 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  a  seat  and  the  paper,  but,  instead  of  reading  the 
latter,  peeped  over  the  top  of  it,  and  took  a  survey  of  the  man  of 
business,  who  was  an  elderly  pimply-faced,  vegetable-diet  sort  of  man, 
in  a  black  coat,  dark  mixture  trousers,  and  small  black  gaiters ;  a  kind 
of  being  who  seemed  to  be  an  essential  part  of  the  desk  at  which  he  was 
writing,  and  to  have  about  as  much  thought  or  feeling. 

After  a  few  minutes'  silence,  Mr.  Dodson,  a  plump,  portly,  stern- 
looking  man,  with  a  loud  voice,  appeared :  and  the  conversation  com- 
menced. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Fogg. 

"  Ah  !  You  are  the  defendant.  Sir,  in  Bardell  and  Pickwick  ?  "  said 
Podson. 

"  I  am.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Well,  Sir,"  said  Dodson,  "and  what  do  you  propose?" 

"Ahl**  said  Fogg,  thrusting  his  hands  into  his  trousers'  pockets, 
and  throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair,  "  what  do  you  propose,  Mr. 
Pickwick?" 

"  Hush,  Fogg,"  said  Dodson,  "  let  me  hear  what  Mr.  Pickwick  has 
to  say." 

"  I  came,  gentlemen,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, — gazing  placidly  on 
the  two  partners, — "  I  came  here,  gentlemen,  to  express  the  surprise 
with  which  I  received  your  letter  of  the  other  day,  and  to  inquire  what 
grounds  of  action  you  can  have  against  me." 

"  Grounds  of" — Fogg  had  ejaculated  thus  much,  when  he  was  stopped 
by  Dodson. 

"  Mr.  Fogg,"  said  Dodson,  "  I  am  going  to  speak." 


^9^  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

.^*  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Dodson,"  said  Fogg*.  j.  :tr  .,t/'.., 
^^'For  the  grounds  of  action,  Sir,"  continued  Dodsorv,  with  moral 
elevation  in  his  air,  "  you  will  consult  your  own  conscience  and  your 
own  feelings.  We,  Sir,  we,  are  guided  entirely  by  the  statement  of.  our 
client.  That  statement,  Sir,  may  be  true,  or  it  may  be  false ;  it  may 
be  credible,  or  it  may  be  incredible  ;  but,  if  it  be  true,  and  if  it  be 
credible,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say.  Sir,  that  our  grounds  of  action,  Sir, 
are  strong,  and  not  to  be  shaken.  You  may  be  an  unfortunate  man. 
Sir,  or  you  may  be  a  designing  one  ;  but  if  I  were  called  upon  as  a 
juryman  upon  my  oath.  Sir,  to  express  an  opinion  of  your  conduct.  Sir, 
I  do  not  hesitate  to  assert  that  I  should  have  but  one  opinion  about  it." 
Here  Dodson  drew  himself  up,  with  an  air  of  offended  virtue,  and  looked 
at  Fogg,  who  thrust  his  hands  further  in  his  pockets,  and,  nodding  his 
head  sagely,  said,  in  a  tone  of  the  fullest  concurrence,  "  Most  certainly." 

"  Well,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  considerable  pain  depicted  in 
his  countenance,  "  you  will  permit  me  to  assure  you,  that  I  am  a  most 
unfortunate  man,  so  far  as  this  case  is  concerned." 

*'  I  hope  you  are,  Sir,"  replied  Dodson ;  "  I  trust  you  may  be,  Sir. 
If  you  are  really  innocent  of  what  is  laid  to  your  charge,  you  are  more 
unfortunate  than  I  had  believed  any  man  could  possibly  be.  What  do 
you  say,  Mr.  Fogg?" 

"  I  say  precisely  what  you  say,"  replied  Fogg,  with  a  smile  of  in- 
credulity. 

"  The  writ.  Sir,  which  commences  the  action,"  continued  Dodson, 
♦<  was  issued  regularly.     Mr.  Fogg,  where  is  iheprcBclpe  book?" 

♦<  Here  it  is,"  said  Fogg,  handing  over  a  square  book,  with  a  parch- 
ment cover. 

"  Here  is  the  entry,"  resumed  Dodson.  "  '  Middlesex,  Capias  ilf/ar^^a 
Bardell,  widow^  v.  Samuel  Pickwick,  Damages,  JB1500.  Dodson 
and  Fogg  for  the  plaintiff,  Aug.  28 ,1830.'  All  regular,  Sir ;  perfectly." 
And  Dodson  coughed  and  looked  at  Fogg,  who  said  "  Perfectly,"  also. 
And  then  they  both  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick, 

"  I  am  to  understand,  then,"  said  Mr,  Pickwick,  '*  that  it  really  is 
your  intention  to  proceed  with  this  action  ?  " 

"  Understand,  Sir  ! — that  you  certainly  may,"  replied  Dodson,  with 
something  as  near  a  smile  as  his  importance  would  allow. 

*'  And  that  the  damages  are  actually  laid  at  fifteen  hundred  pounds?" 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  To  which  understanding  you  may  add  my  assurance,  that  if  we 
could  have  prevailed  upon  our  client,  they  would  have  been  laid  at  treble 
the  amount.  Sir :"  replied  Dodson. 

"  I  believe  Mrs.  Bardell  specially  said,  however,"  observed  Fogg, 
glancing  at  Dodson,  "  that  she  would  not  compromise  for  a  farthing- 
less.'' 

"  Unquestionably,"  replied  Dodson,  sternly.  For  the  action  was 
only  just  begun ;  and  it  wouldn't  have  done  to  let  Mr.  Pickwick  com- 
)>romise  it  then,  even  if  he  had  been  so  disposed. 

'*  As  you  offer  no  terms,  Sir,"  said  Dodson,  displaying  a  slip  of 
parchment  in  his  right  hand,  and  affectionately  pressing  a  paper  copy 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


2.'^ 


of  it,  on  Mr.  Pickwick  with  his  left,  *'  I  had  better  serve  you  with  a  copy 
of  tbfs  writ.  Sir.     Here  is  the  original,  Sir." 

**  Very  well,  gentlemen,  very  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rising  in 
person  and  wrath  at  the  same  time  ;  "  you  shall  hear  from  my  solicitor, 
gentlemen." 

*«  We  shall  be  very  happy  to  do  so,"  said  Fogg,  rubbing  his  hands. 

♦'  Very,"  said  Dodson,  opening  the  door. 

**  And  before  I  go,  gentlemen,"  said  the  excited  Mr.  Pickwick,  turn- 
ing round  on  the  landing,  "  permit  me  to  say,  that  of  all  the  disgraceful 
and  rascally  proceedings — " 

"  Stay,  Sir,  stay,"  interposed  Dodson,  with  great  politeness.  "  Mr. 
Jackson — Mr.  Wicks." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  two  clerks,  appearing  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs. 

"  I  just  want  you  to  hear  what  this  gentleman  says,"  replied  Dod- 
son. "  Pray,  go  on.  Sir — disgraceful  and  rascally  proceedings,  I  think 
you  said." 

"  I  did,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  thoroughly  roused.  "  I  said,  Sir,  that 
of  all  the  disgraceful  and  rascally  proceedings  that  ever  were  attempted, 
this  is  the  most  so.     I  repeat  it,  Sir." 

"  You  hear  that,  Mr.  Wicks  ?  "  said  Dodson. 

"  You  won't  forget  these  expressions,  Mr.  Jackson  ?  "  said  Fogg. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  call  us  swindlers,  Sir,"  said  Dodson. 
"  Pray  do.  Sir,  if  you  feel  disposed — now  pray  do,  Sir." 

"  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  You  are  swindlers." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Dodson.  "  You  can  hear  down  there,  I  hope, 
Mr.  Wicks." 

'^  Oh  yes.  Sir,"  said  Wricks. 

"  You  had  better  come  up  a  step  or  two  higher,  if  you  can't,**  added 
Mr.  Fogg. 

"  Go  on,  Sir ;  do  go  on.  You  had  better  call  us  thieves,  Sir ;  or 
perhaps  you  would  like  to  assault  one  of  us.  Pray  do  it.  Sir,  if  you 
would ;  we  will  not  make  the  smallest  resistance.     Pray  do  it.  Sir." 

As  Fogg  put  himself  very  temptingly  within  the  reach  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's clenched  fist,  there  is  little  doubt  that  that  gentleman  would  have 
complied  with  his  earnest  entreaty,  but  for  the  interposition  of  Sam, 
who,  hearing  the  dispute,  emerged  from  the  office,  mounted  the  stairs, 
and  seized  his  master  by  the  arm. 

"  You  just  come  avay,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  Battledore  and  shuttle- 
cock's a  wery  good  game,  vhen  you  an't  the  shuttlecock  and  two  lawyers 
the  battledores,  in  vich  case  it  get's  too  excitin'  to  be  pleasant.  Come 
avay.  Sir.  If  you  want  to  ease  your  mind  by  blowing  up  somebody, 
come  out  into  the  court  and  blowup  me  ;  but  it's  rayther  too  expensive 
work  to  be  carried  on  here." 

And  without  the  slightest  ceremony,  Mr.  Weller  hauled  his  master 
down  the  stairs,  and  down  the  court,  and  having  safely  deposited  him 
in  Cornhill,  fell  behind,  prepared  to  follow  whithersoever  he  should 
lead. 

Mr.  Pickwick  walked  on  abstractedly,  crossed  opposite  the  Mansion 
House,  and  bent  his  steps  up  Cheapside.  Sam  began  to  wonder  where 
lliey  were  going,  when  his  master  turned  round,  and  said — 


204.  POSTfiUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Sam,  I  will  go  immediately  to  Mr.  Perkefs/* 

"  That's  just  exactly  the  wery  place  vere  you  ought  to  haye  gone  last 
night,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  I  think  it  is,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  know  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Well,  well,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  we  will  go  there  at  once, 
but  first,  as  I  have  been  rather  ruffled,  I  should  like  a  glass  of  brandy 
and  water  warm,  Sam.     Where  can  I  have  it,  Sam?*' 

Mr.  Weller's  knowledge  of  London  was  extensive  and  peculiar.  He 
replied,  without  the  slightest  consideration — 

<^  Second  court  on  the  right  hand  side — last  house  but  vun  on  the 
same  side  the  vay — take  the  box  as  stands  in  the  first  fire-place,  'cos 
there  an't  no  leg  in  the  middle  o'  the  table,  vhich  all  the  others  has,  and 
its  wery  inconwenient." 

Mr.  Pickwick  observed  his  valet's  directions  implicitly,  and  bidding 
Sam  follow  him,  entered  the  tavern  he  had  pointed  out,  where  the  hot 
brandy  and  water  was  speedily  placed  before  him ;  while  Mr.  Weller, 
seated  at  a  respectful  distance,  though  at  the  same  table  with  his  master, 
was  accommodated  with  a  pint  of  porter. 

The  room  was  one  of  a  very  homely  description,  and  was  apparently 
under  the  especial  patronage  of  stage  coachmen :  for  several  gentlemen, 
who  had  all  the  appearance  of  belonging  to  that  learned  profession,  were 
drinking  and  smoking  in  the  different  boxes.  Among  the  number  was 
one  stout,  red-faced,  elderly  man  in  particular,  seated  in  an  opposite  box, 
who  attracted  Mr.  Pickwick's  attention.  The  stout  man  was  smoking 
with  great  vehemence,  but  between  every  half-dozen  puffs,  he  took  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  looked  first  at  Mr.  Weller  and  then  at  Mr. 
Pickwick.  Then  he  would  bury  in  a  quart  pot,  as  much  of  his  counte- 
nance as  the  dimensions  of  the  quart-pot  admitted  of  its  receiving,  and 
take  another  look  at  Sam  and  Mr.  Pickwick.  Then  he  would  take  ano- 
ther half-dozen  puffs  with  an  air  of  profound  meditation,  and  look  at 
them  again.  And  at  last  the  stout  man,  putting  up  his  legs  on  the 
seat,  and  leaning  his  back  against  the  wall,  began  to  puff  at  his  pipe 
without  leaving  off  at  all,  and  to  stare  through  the  smoke  at  the  new 
comers,  as  if  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  see  the  most  he  could  of  them. 

At  first  the  evolutions  of  the  stout  man  had  escaped  Mr.  Weller's 
observation,  but  by  degrees  as  he  saw  Mr.  Pickwick's  eyes  every  now 
and  then  turning  towards  him,  he  began  to  gaze  in  the  same  direction, 
at  the  same  time  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  as  if  he  partially 
recognised  the  object  before  him,  and  wished  to  make  quite  sure  of,  its 
identity.  Kis  doubts  were  speedily  dispelled,  however ;  for  the  stout 
man  having  blown  a  thick  cloud  from  his  pipe,  a  hoarse  voice,  like  some 
strange  effort  of  ventriloquism,  emerged  from  beneath  the  capacious 
shawls  which  muffled  his  throat  and  chest,  and  slowly  uttered  these 
sounds — '<  Vy,  Sammy." 

"  Who's  that,  Sam  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Why,  I  wouldn't  ha'  believed  it,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  with 
astonished  eyes.     "  It's  the  old  'un." 

"  Old  one,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  What  old  one  ?  " 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB-  205 


I"  My  father,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "  How  are  you,  my  ancient?" 
And  with  this  beautiful  ebullition  of  filial  affection,  Mr.  Weller,  made 
room  on  the  seat  beside  him,  for  the  stout  man,  who  advanced  pipe  in 
mouth  and  pot  in  hand,  to  greet  him. 

"  Vy,  Sammy,"  said  the  father,  "  I  han't  seen  you,  for  two  years  aftd 
better." 

"  Nor  more  you  have,  old  codger,"  replied  the  son.  "  How*s  mother 
in  law  ?  " 

*'  Vy,  I'll  tell  you  what,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  withmuch, 
solemnity  in  his  manner;  "  there  never  was  a  nicer  woman  as  a  widder; 
than  that  'ere  second  wentur  o'  mine — a  sweet  cretur  she  was,  Sammy 
and  all  I  can  say  on  her  now,  is,  that  as  she  was  such  an  uncommon 
pleasant  widder,  it's  a  great  pity  she  ever  changed  her  condition.  She 
don't  act  as  a  vife,  Sammy." 

"  Don't  she,  though  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  W^eller  junior. 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head,  as  he  replied  with  a  sigh,  "  IVe 
done  it  once  too  often,  Sammy ;  I've  done  it  once  too  often.  Take 
example  by  your  father,  my  boy,  and  be  wery  careful  o'  widders  all  your 
life,  specially  if  they've  kept  a  public  house,  Sammy ;"  and  having 
delivered  this  parental  advice  with  great  pathos,  Mr.  Weller  senior 
re-filled  his  pipe  irom  a  tin  box  he  carried  in  his  pocket :  and,  lighting 
his  fresh  pipe  from  the  ashes  of  the  old  one,  commenced  smoking  at  a 
great  rate. 

"  Beg  your  pardon.  Sir,"  he  said,  renewing  the  subject,  and  addressing 
Mr.  Pickwick,  after  a  considerable  pause,  "  nothin'  personal,  I  hope. 
Sir ;  I  hope  you  han't  got  a  widder,  Sir." 

"  Not  1,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  laughing ;  and  while  Mr.  Pickwick 
laughed,  Sam  Weller  informed  his  parent  in  a  whisper,  of  the  relation 
in  which  he  stood  towards  that  gentleman. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  taking  off  his' 
hat,  "  I  hope  you've  no  fault  to  find  with  Sammy,  Sir." 

"  None  whatever,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Wery  glad  to  hear  it,  Sir,"  replied  the  old  man  ;  "  I  took  a  good 
deal  o'  pains  with  his  eddication.  Sir;  let  him  run  in  the  streets  when 
he  was  wery  young,  and  shift  for  his-self.  It's  the  only  way  to  make 
a  boy  sharp,  Sir." 

"  Rather  a  dangerous  process,  I  should  imagine,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick^ 
with  a  smile. 

"  And  not  a  wery  sure  one,  neither,"  added  Mr.  Weller ;  "  I  got 
reglarly  done  the  other  day." 

"  No  ! "  said  the  father. 

''  I  did,"  said  the  son ;  and  he  proceeded  to  relate  in  as  few  words 
as  possible,  how  he  had  fallen  a  ready  dupe  to  the  stratagems  of  Job 
Trotter. 

Mr.  Weller  senior  listened  to  the  tale  with  the  most  profound 
attention,  and,  at  its  termination,  said — 

'' Worn't  one  o*  these  chaps  slim  and  tall,  with  long  hair,  and  the 
gift  o'  the  gab  wery  gallopin'  ?" 

I  Mr.  Pickwick  did  not  quite  understand  the  last  item  of  description, 
but,  comprehending  the  first,  said  "  Yes,"  at  a  venture. 


206  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  'J"otber'6  a  black-haired  chap  in  mulberry  livery,  with  a  vvery'large 
head?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam,  with  great  earnest- 
ness. 

"  Then  I  know  where  they  are,  and  that's  all  about  it,"  said  lyir 
Weiler;  "  they're  at  Ipswich,  safe  enough,  them  two."  •  ^j^uu    . 

*  "  No  ! "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Fact,"  said  Mr.  Weiler,  "  and  I'll  tell  you  how  I  know  it.  I 
work  an  Ipswich  coach  now  and  then  for  a  friend  o'  mine.  I  worked 
down  the  wery  day  arter  the  night  as  you  caught  the  rheumatiz,  and  at 
the  Black  Boy  at  Chelmsford — the  wery  place  they'd  come  to — I  took 
'em  up,  right  through  to  Ipswich,  where  the  man  servant — him  in  the 
mulberries — told  me  they  was  a  goin'  to  put  up  for  a  long  time." 

"  I'll  follow  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  "  we  may  as  well  see  Ipswich 
as  any  other  place.     I'll  follow  him." 

"  You're  quite  certain  it  was  them,  governor  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Weiler, 
junior. 

*•  Quite,  Sammy,  quite,"  replied  his  father,  "  for  their  appearance  is 
wery  sing'ler ;  besides  that  'ere,  I  wondered  to  see  the  gen'lm'n  so 
familiar  with  his  servant ;  and,  more  than  that,  as  they  sat  in  front, 
right  behind  the  box,  I  heard  'em  laughing,  and  saying  how  they'd  done 
old  Fireworks." 

"Old  who?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Old  Fireworks,  Sir,  by  which,  I've  no  doubt,  they  meant  you.  Sir." 

There  is  nothing  positively  vile  or  atrocious  in  the  appellation  of 
"  old  Fireworks,"  but  still  it  is  by  no  means  a  respectful  or  flattering 
designation.  The  recollection  of  all  the  wrongs  he  had  sustained  at 
Jingle's  hands,  had  crowded  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  mind,  the  moment  Mr. 
Weiler  began  to  speak :  it  wanted  but  a  feather  to  turn  the  scale,  and 
*'  old  Fireworks"  did  it. 

*'  I'll  follow  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  emphatic  blow  on  the 
table. 

*'  I  shall  work  down  to  Ipswich  the  day  arter  to-morrow,  Sir,"  said 
Mr.  Weiler  the  elder,  "  from  the  Bull  in  Whitechapel ;  and  if  you  really 
mean  to  go,  you'd  better  go  with  me." 

"  So  we  had,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  very  true ;  I  can  write  to  Bury, 
and  tell  them  to  meet  me  at  Ipswich.  We  will  go  with  you.  But  don't 
hurry  away,  Mr.  Weiler;  won't  you  take  anything?" 

"  You're  wery  good.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  W.,  stopping  short — "  perhaps 
a  small  glass  of  brandy  to  drink  your  health,  and  success  to  Sammy, 
Sir,  wouldn't  be  amiss." 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.     '*  A  glass  of  brandy  here." 

The  brandy  was  brought :  and  Mr.  Weiler,  after  pulling  his  hair  to 
Mr.  Pickwick,  and  nodding  to  Sam,  jerked  it  down  his  capacious  throat 
as  if  it  had  been  a  small  thimble-full. 

"  Well  done,   father,"  said   Sam,  <*  take  care,    old  fellow,  or  you'll! 
have  a  touch  of^  your  old  complaint,  the  gout." 

*'  I've  found  a  sov'rin'  cure  for  that,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weiler,' 
setting  down  the  glass. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  207 

"^^sovereign  cure  for  the  gout,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily  pro- 
arfcing  his  note-book,  "  what  is  it?" 

*'  The  gout,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  *'  the  gout  is  a  complaint  as 
arises  from  too  much  ease  and  comfort.  If  ever  you're  attacked  with 
the  gout.  Sir,  jist  you  marry  a  widder  as  has  got  a  good  loud  woice,  with 
a  decent  notion  of  usin'  it,  and  you'll  never  have  the  gout  agin.  It's 
a  capital  prescription,  Sir.  I  takes  it  reg'lar,  and  I  can  warrant  it 
to  drive  away  any  illness  as  is  caused  by  too  much  jollity."  Having 
imparted  this  valuable  secret,  Mr.  Weller  drained  his  glass  once  more, 
produced  a  laboured  wink,  sighed  deeply,  and  slowly  retired. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  what  your  father  says,  Sam  ?  "  inquired 
Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile. 

"  Think,  Sir  I"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  *<  why,  I  think  he's  the  wictim 
o*  connubiality,  as  Blue  Beard's  domestic  chaplain  said,  with  a  tear  of 
pity,  ven  he  buried  him." 

There  was  no  replying  to  this  very  apposite  conclusion,  and,  there- 
fore, Mr.  Pickwick,  after  settling  the  reckoning,  resumed  his  walk  to 
Gray's  Inn.  By  the  time  he  reached  its  secluded  groves,  however, 
eight  o'clock  had  struck,  and  the  unbroken  stream  of  gentlemen  in 
muddy  high-lows,  soiled  white  hats,  and  rusty  apparel,  who  were 
pouring  towards  the  different  avenues  of  egress,  warned  him  that  the 
majority  of  the  offices  had  closed  for  that  day. 

After  climbing  two  pairs  of  steep  and  dirty  stairs,  he  found  his 
anticipations  were  realised.  Mr.  Perker's  "  outer  door"  was  closed  ; 
and  the  dead  silence  which  followed  Mr.  Weller's  repeated  kicks 
thereat,  announced  that  the  officials  had  retired  from  business  for  the 
night. 

"  This  is  pleasant,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  "  I  shouldn't  lose  an 
hour  in  seeing  him ;  I  shall  not  be  able  to  get  one  wink  of  sleep  to- 
night, I  know,  unless  I  have  the  satisfaction  of  reflecting  that  I  have 
confided  this  matter  to  a  professional  man." 

"  Here's  an  old  *ooman  comin'  up  stairs.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller ; 
"  p'raps  she  knows  where  we  can  find  somebody.  Hallo,  old  lady,  vere's 
Mr.  Perker's  people?" 

"  Mr.  Perker's  people,"  said  a  thin,  miserable-looking  old  woman, 
stopping  to  recover  breath  after  the  ascent  of  the  staircase,  *'  Mr. 
Perker's  people's  gone,  and  I'm  a  goin'  to  do  the  office  out." 

*'  Are  you  Mr.  Perker's  servant?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  am  Mr.  Perker's  laundress,"  replied  the  old  woman. 

"  Ah,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  half  aside  to  Sam,  "  it's  a  curious  circum- 
stance, Sam,  that  they  call  the  old  women  in  these  inns,  laundresses.  I 
wonder  what's  that  for." 

"  'Cos  they  has  a  mortal  awersion  to  washing  anythin',  I  suppose, 
Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  the  old  woman, 
whose  appearance  as  well  as  the  condition  of  the  office,  which  she  had 
by  this  time  opened,  indicated  a  rooted  antipathy  to  the  application  of 
soap  and  water  **  do  you  know  wher<»  I  can  find  Mr.  Perker,  my  good 
woman  ?  " 


k. 


208  POiSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  No  I  don't,"  replied  the  old  woman,  gruffly ;  "  he's  out  o'  town 


now. 


"  That's  unfortunate,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  «  where's  his  clerk — do 

you  know  ?  " 

"  Yes  I  know  where  he  is,  but  he  wouldn't  thank  me  for  teUing 
you,"  replied  the  laundress. 

«  I  have  very  particular  business  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

«  Won't  it  do  in  the  morning?"  said  the  woman. 

«  Not  so  well,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  if  it  was  anything  very  particular, 
I  was  to  say  where  he  was,  so  I  suppose  there's  no  harm  in  telling.  If 
you  just  go  to  the  Magpie  and  Stump,  and  ask  at  the  bar  for  Mr. 
Lowten,  they'll  show  you  in  to  him,  and  he's  Mr.  Perker's  clerk." 

With  this  direction,  and  having  been  furthermore  informed  that  the 
hostelry  in  question  was  situated  in  a  court,  happy  in  the  double  advan- 
tage of  being  in  the  vicinity  of  Clare  Market,  and  closely  approximating 
to  the  back  of  New  Inn,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sara  descended  the  ricketty 
staircase  in  safety,  and  issued  forth  in  quest  of  the  Magpie  and  Stump. 

This  favoured  tavern,  sacred  to  the  evening  orgies  of  Mr.  Lowten  and 
his  companions,  was  what  ordinary  people  would  designate  a  public- 
house.  That  the  landlord  was  a  man  of  a  money-making  turn,  was 
sufficiently  testified  by  the  fact  of  a  small  bulk-head  beneath  the  tap- 
room window,  in  size  and  shape  not  unlike  a  sedan-chair,  being  underlet 
to  a  mender  of  shoes  :  and  that  he  was  a  being  of  a  philanthropic  mind, 
was  evident  from  the  protection  afforded  to  a  pie-man,  who  vended  his 
delicacies  without  fear  of  interruption,  on  the  very  door-step.  In  the 
lower  windows,  which  were  decorated  with  curtains  of  a  saffron  hue, 
dangled  two  or  three  printed  cards,  bearing  reference  to  Devonshire 
cyder  and  Dantzic  spruce,  while  a  large  black  board,  announcing  in 
white  letters  to  an  enlightened  public,  that  there  were  500,000  barrels 
of  double  stout  in  the  cellars  of  the  establishment,  left  the  mind  in  a 
state  of  not  unpleasing  doubt  and  uncertainty,  as  to  the  precise  direction 
in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  in  which  this  mighty  cavern  might  be  sup- 
posed to  extend.  When  we  add,  that  the  weather-beaten  sign-board 
bore  the  half-obliterated  semblance  of  a  magpie  intently  eyeing  a  crooked 
streak  of  brown  paint,  which  the  neighbours  had  been  taught  from 
infancy  to  consider  as  the  ''stump,"  we  have  said  all  that  need  be 
said,  of  the  exterior  of  the  edifice. 

On  Mr.  Pickwick's  presenting  himself  at  the  bar,  an  elderly  female 
emerged  from  behind  a  screen  therein,  and  presented  herself  before  him. 
"Is  Mr.  Lowten  here.  Ma'am?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 
«  Yes  he  is,  Sir,"  replied  the  landlady.      "  Here,  Charley,  show  the 
gentleman  in,  to  Mr.  Lowten." 

"  The  gen'lm'n  can't  go  in,  just  now, "  said  a  shambling  pot-boy,  with 
a  red  head,  "  'cos  Mr.  Lowten's  a  singin'  a  comic  song,  and  he'll  put 
him  out.     He'll  be  done  d'rectly.  Sir." 

The  red-headed  pot-boy  had  scarcely  finished  speaking,  when  a  most 
itnanimous  hammering  of  tables,  and  jingling  of  glasses,  announced  that 
the  song  had  that  instant  terminated  ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  desiring 


THE    PICKWICK    CLCB.  5^09 

Sam  to  solace  himself  in  the  tap,  suffered  himself  to  be  conducted  into 
the  presence  of  Mr.  Lowten. 

At  the  announcement  of"  ag-entleman  to  speak  to  you,  Sir,"  a  puffy- 
faced  young  man  who  filled  the  chair  at  the  head  of  the  table,  looked 
with  some  surprise  in  the  direction  from  whence  the  voice  proceeded : 
and  the  surprise  seemed  to  be  by  no  means  diminished,  when  his  eyes 
rested  on  an  individual  whom  he  had  never  seen  before. 

*'  I  beg"  your  pardon,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  and  I  am  very  sorry 
to  disturb  the  other  gentlemen,  too,  but  I  come  on  very  particular  busi- 
ness ;  and  if  you  will  suffer  me  to  detain  you  at  this  end  of  the  room 
for  five  minutes,  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you." 

The  puffy-faced  young  man  rose,  and  drawing  a  chair  close  to  Mr. 
Pickwick  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the  room,  listened  attentively  to  his 
tale  of  woe. 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  had  concluded,  "  Dodson  and 
Fogg — sharp  practice  their's — capital  men  of  business  is  Dodson  and 
Fogg,  Sir." 

Mr.  Pickwick  admitted  the  sharp  practice  of  Dodson  and  Fogg,  and 
Lowten  resumed. 

"  Perker  ain't  in  town,  and  he  won't  be  neither,  before  the  end  of 
next  week  ;  but  if  you  want  the  action  defended,  and  will  leave  the 
copy  with  me,  I  can  do  all  that's  needful  'till  he  comes  back." 

'*  That's  exactly  what  I  came  here  for,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  handing 
over  the  document.  "  If  any  thing  particular  occurs,  you  can  write  to 
me  at  the  post-office,  Ipswich." 

"  That's  all  right,"  replied  Mr.  Perker's  clerk;  and  then  seeing  Mr. 
Pickwick's  eye  wandering  curiously  towards  the  table,  he  added,  '*  Will 
you  join  us,  for  half-an-hour  or  so  ?  We  are  capital  company  here  to- 
night. There's  Samkin  and  Green's  managing-clerk,  and  Smithers 
and  Price's  chancery,  and  Pimkin  and  Thomas's  out  o'  door — sings  a 
capital  song,  he  does — and  Jack  Bamber,  and  ever  so  many  more.  You're 
come  out  of  the  country,  I  suppose.    Would  you  like  to  join  us?" 

Mr.  Pickwick  could  not  resist  so  tempting  an  opportunity  of  study- 
ing human  nature.  He  suffered  himself  to  be  led  to  the  table,  where, 
after  having  been  introduced  to  the  company  in  due  form,  he  was  accom- 
modated with  a  seat  near  the  chairman,  and  called  for  a  glass  of  his 
favourite  beverage. 

A  profound  silence,  quite  contrary  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  expectation, 
succeeded. 

"  You  don't  find  this  sort  of  thing  disagreeable,  I  hope.  Sir  ?  "  said 
his  right  hand  neighbour,  a  gentleman  in  a  checked  shirt  and  Mobaie 
studs,  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  like  it  very  much, 
although  I  am  no  smoker  myself." 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  say  I  wasn't,"  interposed  another  gentle- 
men on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table.  "  It's  board  and  lodging  to  me, 
is  smoke." 

Mr.  Pickwick  glanced  at  the  speaker,  and  thought  that  if  it  were 
washing  too,  it  would  be  all  the  better. 


i>10  POSTHUMOUS  papers  of 

Here  there  was  another  pause.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  a  stranger,  and 
his  coming-  had  evidently  cast  a  damp  upon  the  party. 

"  Mr.  Grundy's  going-  to  oblige  the  company  with  a  song,"  said  the 
chairman. 

"  No  he  ain't,"  said  Mr.  Grundy. 

<i  Why  not  ?  "  said  the  chairman. 

"  Because  I  can't,"  said  Mr.  Grundy. 

"  You  had  better  say  you  won't,"  replied  the  chairman. 

"  Well,  vhen,  I  won't,"  retorted  Mr.  Grundy.  Mr.  Grundy's  positive 
refusal  to  gratify  the  company,  occasioned  another  silence. 

"  Won't  anybody  enliven  us  ?"  said  the  chairman,  despondingly. 

"  Why  don't  you  enliven  us  yourself,  Mr.  Chairman  ?"  said  a  young 
man  with  a  whisker,  a  squint,  and  an  open  shirt  collar  (dirty)  from  the 
bottom  of  the  table. 

"  Hear!  hear!"  said  the  smoking  gentleman,  in  the  Mosaic 
jewellery. 

"  Because  I  only  know  one  song,  and  I  have  sung  it  already,  and  it's 
a  fine  of '  glasses  round'  to  sing  the  same  song  twice  in  a  night," 
replied  the  chairman. 

This  was  an  unanswerable  reply,  and  silence  prevailed  again. 

"  I  have  been  to-night,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hoping  to 
start  a  subject  which  all  the  company  could  take  part  in  discussing,  "  I 
have  been  to-night  in  a  place  which  you  all  know  very  well,  doubtless, 
but  which  I  have  not  been  in  before,  for  some  years,  and  know  very 
little  of;  I  mean  Gray's  Inn,  gentlemen.  Curious  little  nooks  in  a 
great  place,  like  London,  these  old  inns  are." 

'*'  By  Jove,"  said  the  chairman,  whispering  across  the  table  to  Mr.* 
Pickwick,  "  you  have  hit  upon  something  that  one  of  us,  at  least, 
would  talk  upon  for  ever.  You'll  draw  old  Jack  Bamber  out ;  he  was 
never  heard  to  talk  about  anything  else  but  the  Inns,  and  he  has  lived 
alone  in  them,  till  he's  half  crazy." 

The  individual  to  whom  Lowten  alluded,  was  a  little  yellow  high- 
shouldered  man,  whose  countenance,  from  his  habit  of  stooping  forward 
when  silent,  Mr.  Pickwick  had  not  observed  before.  He  wondered 
though,  when  the  old  man  raised  his  shrivelled  face,  and  bent  his  bright 
grey  eye  upon  him,  with  a  keen  inquiring  look,  that  such  remarkable 
features  could  have  escaped  his  attention  for  a  moment.  There  was  a 
fixed  grim  smile  perpetually  on  his  countenance ;  he  leant  his  chin  on 
a  long  skinny  hand,  with  nails  of  extraordinary  length ;  and  as  he 
incHned  his  head  to  one  side,  and  looked  keenly  out  from  beneath  his 
ragged  grey  eyebrows,  there  was  a  strange,  wild  slyness  in  his  leer, 
quite  repulsive  to  behold. 

This  was  the  figure  that  now  started  forward,  and  burst  into  an 
animated  torrent  of  words.  As  this  chapter  has  been  a  long  one  how- 
ever, and  as  the  old  man  was  a  remarkable  personage,  it  will  be  more 
respectful  to  him,  and  more  convenient  to  us,  to  let  him  speak  for 
himself  in  a  fresh  one. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  211 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

IN    WHICH    THE    OLD     MAN    LAUNCHES    FORTH    INTO    HIS    FAVOURITE 
THEME,  AND    RELATES    A    STORY    ABOUT    A    QUEER    CLIENT. 

"  Aha  !"  said  the  old  man,  a  brief  description  of  whose  manner  and 
appearance  concluded  the  last  chapter,  "  Aha  !  who  was  talking  about 
the  Inns?" 

"  I  was,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick — "  I  was  observing  what  sin- 
gular old  places  they  are." 

"  You!"  said  the  old  man,  contemptuously — ^' What  do  i/oti  know 
of  the  time  when  young  men  shut  themselves  up  in  those  lonely  rooms, 
and  read  and  read,  hour  after  hour,  and  night  after  night,  till  their 
reason  wandered  beneath  their  midnight  studies ;  till  their  mental 
powers  were  exhausted  ;  till  morning's  light  brought  no  freshness  or 
health  to  them ;  and  they  sank  beneath  the  unnatural  devotion  of  their 
youthful  energies  to  their  dry  old  books?  Coming  down  to  a  later 
time,  and  a  very  different  day,  what  do  ^om  know  of  the  gradual  sinking 
beneath  consumption,  or  the  quick  wasting  of  fever — the  grand  results 
of  *life'  and  dissipation — which  men  have  undergone  in  those  same 
rooms  ?  How  many  vain  pleaders  for  mercy,  do  you  think  have  turned 
away  heart-sick  from  the  lawyer's  office,  to  find  a  resting-place  in  the 
Thames,  or  a  refuge  in  the  gaol  ?  They  are  no  ordinary  houses,  those. 
There  is  not  a  pannel  in  the  old  wainscotting,  but  what,  if  it  were 
endowed  with  the  powers  of  speech  and  memory,  could  start  from  the 
wall,  and  tell  its  tale  of  horror — the  romance  of  life.  Sir,  the  romance 
of  life.  Common-place  as  they  may  seem  now,  I  tell  you  they  are 
strange  old  places,  and  I  would  rather  hear  many  a  legend  with  a  terrific- 
sounding  name,  than  the  true  history  of  one  old  set  of  chambers." 

There  was  something  so  odd  in  the  old  man's  sudden  energy,  ana 
the  subject  which  had  called  it  forth,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  was  prepared 
with  no  observation  in  reply;  and  the  old  man  checking  his  impetuosity, 
and  resuming  the  leer,  which  had  disappeared  during  his  previous  excite- 
ment, said — 

"Look  at  them  in  another  light :  their  most  common-place  and  least 
romantic:  what  fine  places  of  slow  torture  they  are.  "J'hink  of  the 
needy  man  who  has  spent  his  all,  beggared  himself,  and  pinched  his 
friends,  to  enter  the  profession,  which  is  destined  never  to  yield  a  morsel 
of  bread  to  him.  The  waiting — the  hope — the  disappointment— the 
fear— the  misery — the  poverty — the  blight  on  his  hopes,  and  end  to  his 
career — the  suicide  perhaps,  or,  better  still,  the  shabby,  slip-shod 
drunkard.  Am  I  not  right  about  them,  eh?"  And  the  old  man 
rubbed  his  hands,  and  leered  as  if  in  delight  at  having  found  another 
point  of  view  in  which  to  place  his  favourite  subject. 

Mr.  Pickwick  eyed  the  old  man  with  great  curiosity,  and  the 
remainder  of  the  company  smiled,  and  looked  on  in  silence. 

s 


212  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Talk  of  your    German   universities,"  said  the  little  old  man ^ 

"  Pooh,  pooh !  there's  romance  enough  at  home,  without  going  half  a 
mile  for  it ;  only  people  never  think  of  it." 

"  I  never  thought  of  the  romance  of  this  particular  subject  before, 
certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  laughing. 

"  To  be  sure  you  didn't,"  said  the  little  old  man,  "  of  course  not. 
As  a  friend  of  mine  used  to  say  to  me,  '  What  is  there  in  chambers,  in 
particular  ? '  *  Queer  old  places,'  said  I.  '  Not  at  all,'  said  he.  *  Lonely,' 
said  I.  *  Not  a  bit  of  it,'  said  he.  He  died  one  morning  of  apoplexy, 
as  he  was  going  to  open  his  outer  door.  Fell  with  his  head  in  his  own 
letter-box,  and  there  he  lay  for  eighteen  months.  Every  body  thought 
he'd  gone  out  of  town." 

"  And  how  was  he  found  at  last?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  The  benchers  determined  to  break  his  door  open,  as  he  hadn't  paid 
any  rent  for  two  years.  So  they  did.  Forced  the  lock ;  and  a  very 
dusty  skeleton  in  a  blue  coat,  black  knee-shorts,  and  silks,  fell  forward 
in  the  arms  of  the  porter  who  opened  the  door.  Queer,  that.  Rather, 
perhaps;  rather,  eh  ?"  And  the  little  old  man  put  his  head  more  on 
one  side,  and  rubbed  his  hands  with  unspeakable  glee. 

"  I  know  another  case,"  said  the  little  old  man,  when  his  chuckles 
nad  in  some  degree  subsided — "  It  occurred  in  Clifford's  Inn.  Tenant 
of  a  top  set^ — bad  character — shut  himself  up  in  his  bed-room  closet, 
and  took  a  dose  of  arsenic.  The  steward  thought  he  had  run  away . 
opened  the  door,  and  put  a  bill  up.  Another  man  came,  took  the 
chambers,  furnished  them,  and  went  to  live  there.  Somehow  or  other 
he  couldn't  sleep — always  restless  and  uncomfortable.  *  Odd,'  says  he. 
*  I'll  make  the  other  room  my  bed-chamber,  and  this  my  sitting-room.' 
He  made  the  change,  and  slept  very  well  at  night,  but  suddenly  found 
that  somehow  he  couldn't  read  in  the  evening:  he  got  nervous  and 
Uncomfortable,  and  used  to  be  always  snuffing  his  candles  and  staring 
about  him.  '  I  can't  make  this  out,'  said  he,  when  he  came  home 
from  the  play  one  night,  and  was  drinking  a  glass  of  cold  grog,  with 
his  back  to  the  wall,  in  order  that  he  mightn't  be  able  to  fancy  there 
was  any  one  behind  him — *  I  can't  make  it  out,'  said  he ;  and  just  then 
his  eyes  rested  on  the  little  closet  that  had  been  always  locked  up,  and 
a -shudder  ran  through  his  whole  frame  from  top  to  toe.  *  I  have  felt 
this  strange  feeling  before,'  said  he — '  I  cannot  help  thinking  there's 
something  wrong  about  that  closet.'  He  made  a  strong  effort,  plucked 
up  his  courage,  shivered  the  lock  with  a  blow  or  two  of  the  poker, 
opened  the  door,  and  there,  sure  enough,  standing  bolt  upright  in  the 
earner,  was  the  last  tenant,  with  a  little  bottle  clasped  firmly  in  his 
hand,  and  his  face  livid  with  the  hue  of  a  painful  death."  As  the  little 
old  man  concluded,  he  looked  round  on  the  attentive  faces  of  his  won- 
dering auditory  with  a  smile  of  grim  delight. 

"  What  strange  things  these  are  you  tell  us  of,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, minutely  scanning  the  old  man's  countenance,  by  the  aid  of  his 
glasses. 

**  Strange  I"  said  the  little  old  man — "  Nonsense  ;  you  think  them 
strange,  because  you  know  nothing  about  it.  They  are  funny,  but  not 
uncomraon." 


4 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  J13 

«<  Funny  I"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  involuntarily. 

"Yes,  funny,  are  they  not?"  replied  the  little  old  man,  with  u 
diabolical  leer;  and  then,  without  pausing  for  an  answer,  he  continued — 

"  I  knew  another  man — let  me  see — it's  forty  years  ago  now — who 
took  an  old,  damp,  rotten  set  of  chambers,  in  one  of  the  most  ancient 
Inns,  that  had  been  shut  up  and  empty  for  years  and  years  before. 
There  were  lots  of  old  women's  stories  about  the  place,  and  it  certainly 
was  very  far  from  being  a  cheerful  one  ;  but  he  was  poor,  and  the 
rooms  were  cheap,  and  that  would  have  been  quite  a  sufficient  reason 
for  him,  if  they  had  been  ten  times  worse  than  they  really  were.  He 
was  obliged  to  take  some  mouldering  fixtures  that  were  on  the  place, 
and,  among  the  rest,  was  a  great  lumbering  wooden  press  for  papers, 
with  large  glass  doors,  and  a  green  curtain  inside;  a  pretty  useless  thing 
for  him,  for  he  had  no  papers  to  put  in  it ;  and  as  to  his  clothes,  he 
carried  them  about  with  him,  and  that  wasn't  very  hard  work,  either. 
Well,  he  had  moved  in  all  his  furniture — it  wasn't  quite  a  truck-full— 
and  sprinkled  it  about  the  room,  so  as  to  make  the  four  chairs  look  as 
much  like  a  dozen  as  possible,  and  was  sitting  down  before  the  fire  at 
night,  drinking  the  first  glass  of  two  gallons  of  whiskey  he  had  ordered 
on  credit,  wondering  whether  it  would  ever  be  paid  for,  and  if  so,  in  how 
many  years'  time,  when  his  eyes  encountered  the  glass  doors  of  the 
wooden  press.  *  Ah  I'  says  he — *  If  I  hadn't  been  obliged  to  take  that 
ugly  article  at  the  old  broker's  valuation,  I  might  have  got  something 
comfortable  for  the  money.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  old  fellow,*  he  said, 
speaking  aloud  to  the  press,  just  because  he  had  got  nothing  else  to 
speak  to — *  If  it  wouldn't  cost  more  to  break  up  your  old  carcase,  than 
it  would  ever  be  worth  afterwards,  I'd  have  a  fire  out  of  you,  in  less  than 
no  time.'  He  had  hardly  spoken  the  words,  when  a  sound  resembling 
a  faint  groan,  appeared  to  issue  from  the  interior  of  the  case.  It  startled 
him  at  first,  but  thinking,  on  a  moment's  reflection,  that  't  must  be 
some  young  fellow  in  the  next  chambers,  who  had  been  dining  out,  he 
put  his  feet  on  the  fender,  and  raised  the  poker  to  stir  the  fire.  At 
that  moment,  the  sound  was  repeated  :  and  one  of  the  glass  doors  slowly 
opening,  disclosed  a  pale  and  emaciated  figure  in  soiled  and  worn  apparel, 
standing  erect  in  the  press.  The  figure  was  tall  and  thir,  and  the 
countenance  expressive  of  care  and  anxiety ;  but  there  was  something 
in  th^  hue  of  the  skin,  and  gaunt  and  unearthly  appearance  of  the 
whole  form,  which  no  being  of  this  world  was  ever  seen  to  wear.  *  Who 
are  you  ? '  said  the  new  tenant,  turning  very  pale^  poising  the  poker  in 
his  hand,  however,  and  taking  a  very  decent  aim  at  the  countenance  of 
the  figure — '  Who  are  you?'  *  Don't  throw  that  poker  at  me,*  replied 
the  form — '  If  you  hurled  it  with  ever  so  sure  an  aim,  it  would  pass 
through  me,  without  resistance,  and  expend  its  force  on  the  wood  behind. 
I  am  a  spirit.*  *  And,  pray,  what  do  you  want  here  ? '  faltered  the 
tenant.  '  In  this  room,*  replied  the  apparition,  *  my  worldly  ruin  was 
worked,  and  I  f>nd  my  children  beggared.  In  this  press,  the  papers  in 
a  long,  long  suit,  which  accumulated  for  years,  were  deposited.  In  this 
loom,  when  I  had  died  of  griof,  and  long-deferred  hope,  two  wily  harpiea 

s2 


214  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    O 

divided  the  wealth  for  which  I  had  contested  during  a  wretched 
existence,  and  of  which,  at  last,  not  one  farthing  was  left  for  my  unhappy 
descendants.  I  terrified  them  from  the  spot,  and  since  that  day  have 
prowled  by  night — the  only  period  at  which  I  can  re- visit  the  earth — about 
the  scenes  of  my  long-protracted  misery*  This  apartment  is  minei 
leave  it  to  me.'  *  If  you  insist  upon  making  your  appearance  here/  ^ 
said  the  tenant,  who  had  had  time  to  collect  his  presence  of  mind  during 
this  prosy  statement  of  the  ghost's — <  I  shall  give  up  possession  with 
the  greatest  pleasure ;  but  I  should  like  to  ask  you  one  question,  if  you 
will  allow  me.'  *  Say  on,'  said  the  apparition,  sternly.  «  Well,'  said 
the  tenant^  '  I  don't  apply  the  observation  personally  to  you,  because  it 
is  equally  applicable  to  all  the  ghosts  I  ever  heard  of;  but  it  does 
appear  to  me,  somewhat  inconsistent,  that  when  you  have  an  opportunity 
of  visiting  the  fairest  spots  of  earth — for  I  suppose  space  is  nothing  to 
you — you  should  always  return  exactly  to  the  very  places  where  you 
have  been  most  miserable.'  *  Egad,  that's  very  true;  I  never  thought 
of  that  before,'  said  the  ghost.  *  You  see,  Sir,*  pursued  the  tenant, 
'  this  is  a  very  uncomfortable  room.  From  the  appearance  of  that  press, 
I  should  be  disposed  to  say  that  it  is  not  wholly  free  from  bugs ;  and  I 
really  think  you  might  find  much  more  comfortable  quarters  :  to  say 
nothing  of  the  climate  of  London^  which  is  extremely  disagreeable.' 
*  You  are  very  right,  Sir,'  said  the  ghost,  politely,  *  it  never  struck  me 
till  now;  I'll  try  change  of  air  directly' — and,  in  fact,  he  began  to  vanish 
as  he  spoke  :  his  legs,  indeed,  had  quite  disappeared.  *  And  if,  Sir,* 
said  the  tenant,  calling  after  him,  *  if  you  would  have  the  goodness  to 
suggest  to  the  other  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  are  now  engaged  in 
haunting  old  empty  houses,  that  they  might  be  much  more  comfortable 
elsewhere,  you  will  confer  a  very  great  benefit  on  society.'  *  I  will,* 
replied  the  ghost;  'we  must  be  dull  fellows^ — very  dull  fellows,  indeed  ; 
I  can't  imagine  how  we  can  have  been  so  stupid.'  With  these  words, 
the  spirit  disappeared ;  and  what  is  rather  remarkable,"  added  the  old 
man,  with  a  shrewd  look  round  the  table,  "  he  never  came  back  again." 

"  That  ain't  bad,  if  it's  true,"  said  the  man  in  th&  Mosaic  studs, 
lighting  a  fresh  cigar. 

*<7f/"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  with  a  look  of  excessive  contempt. 
"  I  suppose,"  he  added,  turning  to  Lowten,  "  he'll  say  next,  that  my 
story  about  the  queer  client  we  had,  when  I  was  in  an  attorney's  office, 
is  not  true,  either — I  shouldn't  wonder." 

"  I  shan't  venture  to  say  anything  at  all  about  it,  seeing  that  I  never 
heard  the  story,"  observed  the  owner  of  the  Mosaic  decorations. 

"  I  wish  you  would  repeat  it.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Ah,  do,*'  said  Lowten,  "  nobody  has  heard  it  but  me,  and  I  have 
nearly  forgotten  it." 

The  old  man  looked  round  the  table,  and  leered  more  horribly  than 
ever,  as  if  in  triumph,  at  the  attention  which  was  depicted  in  every  face. 
Then  rubbing  his  chin  with  his  hand,  and  looking  up  to  the  ceiling  as 
if  to  recal  the  circumstances  to  his  memory,  he  began  as  follows : — 


THE     PICKWICK    CLUB. 


9,15 


THE    OLD    man's    TALE    ABOUT    THE    QUEER    CLIENT. 

"  It  matters  little,"  said  the  old  man,  "  where,  or  how,  I  picked  up 
this  brief  history.  If  I  were  to  relate  it  in  the  order  in  which  it  reached 
me,  I  should  commence  in  the  middle,  and  when  I  had  arrived  at  the 
conclusion,  go  back  for  a  beginning.  It  is  enough  for  me  to  say  that 
some  of  its  circumstances  passed  before  my  own  eyes ;  for  the  remain- 
der I  know  them  to  have  happened,  and  there  are  some  persons  yet 
living,  who  will  remember  them  but  too  well. 

"  In  the  Borough  High  Street,  near  Saint  George's  Church,  and 
on  the  same  side  of  the  way,  stands,  as  most  people  know,  the  smallest 
of  our  debtors'  prisons — the  Marshalsea,  Although  in  later  times  it 
has  been  a  very  different  place  from  the  sink  of  filth  and  dirt  it  once 
was,  even  its  improved  condition  holds  out  but  little  temptation  to  the 
extravagant  or  consolation  to  the  improvident.  The  condemned  felon 
has  as  good  a  yard  for  air  and  exercise  in  Newgate,  as  the  insolvent 
debtor  in  the  Marshalsea  Prison. 

"  It  may  be  my  fancy,  or  it  may  be  that  I  cannot  separate  the  place 
firom  the  old  recollections  associated  with  it,  but  this  part  of  London 
I  cannot  bear.  The  street  is  broad,  the  shops  are  spacious,  the  noise 
of  passing  vehicles,  the  footsteps  of  a  perpetual  stream  of  people — all 
the  busy  sounds  of  traffic,  resound  in  it  from  morn  to  midnight,  but  the 
streets  around,  are  mean  and  close ;  poverty  and  debauchery  lie  fester- 
ing in  the  crowded  alleys,  want  and  misfortune  are  pent  up  in  the 
narrow  prison ;  an  air  of  gloom  and  dreariness  seems,  in  my  eyes  at 
least,  to  hang  about  the  scene,  and  to  impart  to  it,  a  squalid  and  sickly 
hue. 

"  Many  eyes,  that  have  long  since  been  closed  in  the  grave,  have 
looked  round  upon  that  scene  lightly  enough,  when  entering  the  gate  of 
the  old  Marshalsea  Prison  for  the  first  time :  for  despair  seldom  comes 
with  the  first  severe  shock  of  misfortune.  A  man  has  confidence  in  un- 
tried friends,  he  remembers  the  many  offers  of  service  so  freely  made  by 
his  boon  companions  when  he  wanted  them  not ;  he  has  hope — the  hope 
of  happy  inexperience — and  however  he  may  bend  beneath  the  first 
fihock,  it  springs  up  in  his  bosom,  and  flourishes  there  for  a  brief  space, 
until  it  droops  beneath  the  blight  of  disappointment  and  neglect. 
How  soon  have  those  same  eyes,  deeply  sunken  in  the  head,  glared  from 
faces  wasted  with  famine,  and  sallow  from  confinement,  in  days  when 
it  was  no  figure  of  speech  to  say  that  debtors  rotted  in  prison,  with  no 
hope  of  release,  and  no  prospect  of  liberty !  The  atrocity  in  its  fiill 
extent  no  longer  exists,  but  there  is  enough  of  it  left,  to  give  rise  to 
occurrences  that  make  the  heart  bleed. 

"  Twenty  years  ago,  that  pavement  was  worn  with  the  footsteps  of 
a  mother  and  child,  who,  day  by  day,  so  surely  as  the  morning  came, 
presented  themselves  at  the  prison  gate ;  often  after  a  night  of  restless 
misery  and  anxious  thoughts,  were  they  there,  a  full  hour  too  soon, 
and  then  the  young  mother  turning  meekly  away,  would  lead  the  child 
to  the  old  bridge,  and  raising  him  in  her  arms  to  shew  him  the  glisten- 
ing water,  tinted  with  the  light  of  the  morning's  sun,  and  stirring  with 


216  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

all  the  bustling  preparations  for  business  and  pleasure  that  the  river 
presents  at  that  early  hour,  endeavour  to  interest  his  thoughts  in  the 
objects  before  him.  But  she  would  quickly  set  him  down,  and  hiding 
her  face  in  her  shawl,  give  vent  to  the  tears  that  blinded  her,  for  no 
expression  of  interest  or  amusement  lighted  up  his  thin  and  sickly  face. 
His  recollections  were  few  enough,  but  they  were  all  of  one  kind — all 
connected  with  the  poverty  and  misery  of  his  parents.  Hour  after 
hour,  had  he  sat  on  his  mother's  knee,  and  with  childish  sympathy 
watched  the  tears  that  stole  down  her  face,  and  then  crept  quietly  away 
into  some  dark  corner,  and  sobbed  himself  to  sleep.  The  hard  realities 
of  the  world,  with  many  of  its  worst  privations — hunger  and  thirst,  and 
cold  and  want — had  all  come  home  to  him,  from  the  first  dawnings  of 
reason ;  and  though  the  form  of  childhood  was  there,  its  light  heart,  its 
merry  laugh,  and  sparkling  eyes  were  wanting. 

"  The  father  and  mother  looked  on  upon  this,  and  upon  each  other, 
with  thoughts  of  agony  they  dared  not  breathe  in  words.  The  healthy, 
strong-made  man,  who  could  have  borne  almost  any  fatigue  of  active 
exertion,  was  wasting  beneath  the  close  confinement  and  unhealthy 
atmosphere  of  a  crowded  prison.  The  slight  and  delicate  woman  was 
sinking  beneath  the  combined  effects  of  bodily  and  mental  illness ;  the 
child's  young  heart  was  breaking. 

''  Winter  came,  and  with  it  weeks  of  cold  and  heavy  rain.  The 
poor  girl  had  removed  to  a  wretched  apartment  close  to  the  spot  of  her 
husband's  imprisonment ;  and  though  the  change  had  been  rendered 
necessary  by  their  increasing  poverty,  she  was  happier  now,  for  she 
was  nearer  him.  For  two  months,  she  and  her  little  companion  watched 
the  opening  of  the  gate  as  usual.  One  day  she  failed  to  come,  for  the 
first  time.  Another  morning  arrived,  and  she  came  alone.  The  child 
was  dead. 

"  They  little  know,  who  coldly  talk  of  the  poor  man's  bereavements, 
as  a  happy  release  from  pain  to  the  departed,  and  a  merciful  relief  from 
expense  to  the  survivor — they  little  know,  I  say,  what  the  agony  of 
those  bereavements  is.  A  silent  look  of  affection  and  regard  when  all 
other  eyes  are  turned  coldly  away — the  consciousness  that  we  possess 
the  sympathy  and  afi"ection  of  one  being  when  all  others  have  deserted 
us— is  a  hold,  a  stay,  a  comfort  in  the  deepest  affliction,  which  no 
wealth  could  purchase,  or  power  bestow.  The  child  had  sat  at  his 
parents'  feet  for  hours  together,  with  his  little  hands  patiently  folded 
in  each  other,  and  his  thin  wan  face  raised  towards  them.  They  had 
seen  him  pine  away,  from  day  to  day ;  and  though  his  brief  existence 
had  been  a  joyless  one,  and  he  was  now  removed  to  that  peace  and  rest 
which,  child  as  he  was,  he  had  never  known  in  this  world,  they  were 
his  parents,  and  his  loss  sunk  deep  into  their  souls. 

*'  It  was  plain  to  those  who  looked  upon  the  mother's  altered  face 
that  death  must  soon  close  the  scene  of  her  adversity  and  trial.  Her 
husband's  fellow  prisoners  shrunk  from  obtruding  on  his  grief  and  misery, 
and  left  to  himself  alone,  the  small  room  he  had  previously  occupied  in 
common  with  two  companions.  She  shared  it  with  him :  and  lingering 
oil  without  pain,  but  without  hope,  her  life  ebbed  slowly  away. 


THE    P1CK.WICK    CLUB.  217 

"  She  had  fainted  one  evening  in  her  husband's  arms,  and  he  had 
borne  her  to  the  open  window,  to  revive  her  with  the  air,  when  the 
light  of  the  moon  falling  full  upon  her  face,  shewed  him  a  change  upon 
her  features,  which  made  him  stagger  beneath  her  weight,  like  a  helpless 
infant. 

*'  *  Set  me  down  George,'  she  said  faintly.  He  did  so,  and  seating 
himself  beside  her,  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  *  It  is  very  hard  to  leave  you  George,*  she  said,  *  but  it's  God's 
will,  and  you  must  bear  it  for  my  sake.  Oh  !  how  I  thank  him  for 
having  taken  our  boy.  He  is  happy,  and  in  heaven  now.  What 
would  he  have  done  here,  without  his  mother !  ' 

"  *  You  shall  not  die,  Mary,  you  shall  not  die ;'  said  the  husband, 
starting  up.  He  paced  hurriedly  to  and  fro,  striking  his  head  with  his 
clenched  fists  ;  then  reseating  himself  beside  her,  and  supporting  her  in 
his  arms,  added  more  calmly,  '  Rouse  yourself,  my  dear  girl — pray, 
pray  do.     You  will  revive  yet.' 

"*  Never  again  George;  never  again' — said  the  dying  woman. 
*  Let  them  lay  me  by  my  poor  boy  now,  but  promise  me,  that  if  ever 
you  leave  this  dreadful  place,  and  should  grow  rich,  you  will  have  us 
removed  to  some  quiet  country  churchyard,  a  long,  long  way  off — very 
far  from  here,  where  we  can  rest  in  peace.  Dear  George,  promise  me 
you  will.' 

"  '  I  do,  I  do* — said  the  man,  throwing  himself  passionately  on  his 
knees  before  her.  '  Speak  to  me  Mary,  another  word ;  one  look — but 
one — ' 

"  He  ceased  to  speak  :  for  the  arm  that  clasped  his  neck,  grew  stiff 
and  heavy.  A  deep  sigh  escaped  from  the  wasted  form  before  him ; 
the  lips  moved,  and  a  smile  played  upon  the  face,  but  the  lips  were 
pallid,  and  the  smile  faded  into  a  rigid  and  ghastly  stare.  He  was  alone 
in  the  world. 

"  That  night,  in  the  silence  and  desolation  of  his  miserable  room,  the 
wretched  man  knelt  down  by  the  dead  body  of  his  wife,  and  called  on 
God  to  witness  a  dreadful  oath,  that  from  that  hour,  he  devoted  himself 
to  revenge  her  death  and  that  of  his  child ;  that  from  thenceforth  to 
the  last  moment  of  his  life,  his  whole  energies  should  be  directed  to 
this  one  object;  that  his  revenge  should  be  protracted  and  terrible; 
that  his  hatred  should  be  undying  and  unextinguishable ;  and  should 
hunt  its  object  through  the  world. 

"  The  deepest  despair,  and  passion  scarcely  human,  had  made  such 
fierce  ravages  on  his  face  and  form,  in  that  one  night,  that  his  compa- 
nions in  misfortune  shrunk  affrighted  from  him  as  he  passed  by.  His 
eyes  were  bloodshot  and  heavy,  his  face  a  deadly  white,  and  his  body 
bent  as  if  with  age.  He  had  bitten  his  under  lip  nearly  through 
in  the  violence  of  his  mental  suffering,  and  the  blood  which  had  flowed 
from  the  wound  had  trickled  down  his  chin,  and  stained  his  shirt  and 
neckerchief.  No  tear,  or  sound  of  complaint  escaped  him;  but  the 
unsettled  look,  and  disordered  haste  with  which  he  paced  up  and  down 
the  yard,  denoted  the  fever  which  was  burning  within. 

"  It  was  necessary  that  his  wife's  body  should  be  removed  from  the 


218  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

prison,  without  delay.  He  received  the  communication  with  perfect 
calmness,  and  acquiesced  in  its  propriety.  Nearly  all  the  inmates  of  the 
prison  had  assembled  to  witness  its  removal ;  they  fell  back  on  either  side 
when  the  widower  appeared ;  he  walked  hurriedly  forward,  and  sta- 
tioned himself,  alone,  in  a  little  railed  area  close  to  the  lodge  gate,  from 
whence  the  crowd,  with  an  instinctive  feeling  of  delicacy,  had  retired. 
The  rude  coffin  was  borne  slowly  forward  on  men's  shoulders.  A 
dead  silence  pervaded  the  throng,  broken  only  by  the  audible  lament- 
ations of  the  women,  and  the  shuffling  steps  of  the  bearers  on  the 
stone  pavement.  They  reached  the  spot  where  the  bereaved  husband 
stood  :  and  stopped.  He  laid  his  hand  upon  the  coffin,  and  mechani- 
cally adjusting  the  pall  with  which  it  was  covered,  motioned  them 
onwards.  The  turnkeys  in  the  prison  lobby  took  oif  their  hats  as  it 
passed  through,  and  in  another  moment  the  heavy  gate  closed  behind  it. 
He  looked  vacantly  upon  the  crowd,  and  fell  heavily  to  the  ground. 

"  Although  for  many  weeks  after  this,  he  was  watched  night  and 
day,  in  the  wildest  ravings  of  fever,  neither  the  consciousness  of  his 
loss,  nor  the  recollection  of  the  vow  he  had  made,  ever  left  him  for  a 
moment.  Scenes  changed  before  his  eyes,  place  succeeded  place,  and 
event  followed  event,  in  all  the  hurry  of  delirium  ;  but  they  were  all 
connected  in  some  way  with  the  great  object  of  his  mind.  He  was 
sailing  over  a  boundless  expanse  of  sea,  with  a  blood-red  sky  above, 
and  the  angry  waters  lashed  into  fury  beneath,  boiling  and  eddying  up, 
on  every  side.  There  was  another  vessel  before  them,  toiling  and 
labouring  in  the  howling  storm ;  her  canvass  fluttering  in  ribbons  from 
the  mast,  and  her  deck  thronged  with  figures  who  were  lashed  to  the 
sides,  over  which  huge  waves  every  instant  burst,  sweeping  away  some 
devoted  creatures  into  the  foaming  sea.  Onward  they  bore,  amidst  the 
roaring  mass  of  water,  with  a  speed  and  force  which  nothing  could 
resist ;  and  striking  the  stern  of  the  foremost  vessel,  crushed  her,  beneath 
their  keel.  From  the  huge  whirlpool  which  the  sinking  wreck  occa- 
sioned, arose  a,  shriek  so  loud  and  shrill — the  death-cry  of  a  hundred 
drowning  wretches,  blended  into  one  fierce  yell — that  it  rung  far  above 
the  war-cry  of  the  elements,  and  echoed,  and  re-echoed  till  it  seemed 
to  pierce  air,  sky,  and  ocean.  But  what  was  that — that  old  grey-head 
that  rose  above  the  water's  surface,  and  with  looks  of  agony,  and  screams 
for  aid,  buffeted  with  the  waves !  One  look,  and  he  had  sprung  from  the 
vessel's  side,  and  with  vigorous  strokes  was  swimming  towards  it.  He 
reached  it;  he  was  close  upon  it.  They  were  his  features.  The  old 
man  saw  him  coming,  and  vainly  strove  to  elude  his  grasp.  But  he 
clasped  him  tight,  and  dragged  him  beneath  the  water.  Down,  down 
with  him,  fifty  fathoms  deep  ;  his  struggles  grew  fainter  and  fainter, 
until  they  wholly  ceased.  He  was  dead  ;  he  had  killed  him,  and  had 
kept  his  oath. 

"  He  was  traversing  the  scorching  sands  of  a  mighty  desert,  bare- 
footed and  alone.  The  sand  choked  and  blinded  him ;  its  fine  thin 
grains  entered  the  very  pores  of  his  skin,  and  irritated  him  almost  to 
madness.  Gigantic  masses  of  the  same  material,  carried  forward  by  the 
wind,  and  shone  through,  by  the  burning  sun,  stalked  in  the  distance  like 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  219 

pillars  of  living  fire.  The  bones  of  men,  who  had  perished  in  the 
dreary  waste,  lay  scattered  at  his  feet ;  a  fearful  light  fell  on  everything 
around ;  and  so  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  nothing  but  objects  of  dread 
and  horror  presented  themselves.  Vainly  striving  to  utter  a  cry  of 
terror,  with  his  tongue  cleaving  to  his  mouth,  he  rushed  madly  forward. 
Armed  with  supernatural  strength,  he  waded  through  the  sand,  until 
exhausted  with  fatigue  and  thirst,  he  fell  senseless  on  the  earth.  What 
fragrant  coolness  revived  him  ;  what  gushing  sound  was  that  ?  Water  I 
It  was  indeed  a  well ;  and  the  clear  fresh  stream  was  running  at  his 
fieet.  He  drank  deeply  of  it,  and  throwing  his  aching  limbs  upon  the 
bank,  sunk  into  a  delicious  trance.  The  sound  of  approaching  foot- 
steps roused  him.  An  old  grey-headed  man  tottered  forward  to  slake 
his  burning  thirst.  It  was  he  again.  He  wound  his  arms  round  the 
old  man's  body,  and  held  him  back.  He  struggled  in  powerful  con- 
vulsions, and  shrieked  for  water — for  but  one  drop  of  water  to  save  his 
life.  But  he  held  the  old  man  firmly,  and  watched  his  agonies  with 
greedy  eyes  ;  and  when  his  lifeless  head  fell  forward  on  his  bosom,  he 
rolled  the  corpse  from  him  with  his  feet. 

"  When  the  fever  left  him,  and  consciousness  returned,  he  awoke  to 
find  himself  rich  and  free  :  to  hear  that  the  parent  who  would  have  let 
him  die  in  gaol — would  !  who  had  let  those  who  were  far  dearer  to  him 
than  his  own  existence,  die  of  want  and  the  sickness  of  heart  that  me^ 
*ilicine  cannot  cure — had  been  found,  dead  in  his  bed  of  down.  He  had  all 
the  heart  to  leave  his  son  a  beggar,  but  proud  even  of  his  health  and 
strength,  he  had  put  off  the  act  till  it  was  too  late,  and  now  might 
gnash  his  teeth  in  the  other  world,  at  the  thought  of  the  wealth  his 
remissness  had  left  him.  He  woke  to  this,  and  he  woke  to  more.  To 
recollect  the  purpose  for  which  he  lived,  and  to  remember  that  his  enemy 
was  his  wife  s  own  father — the  man  who  had  cast  him  into  prison,  and 
who,  when  his  daughter  and  her  child  sued  at  his  feet  for  mercy,  had 
spurned  them  from  his  door.  Oh,  how  he  cursed  the  weakness  that 
prevented  him  from  being  up,  and  active,  in  his  scheme  of  vengeance  I 

"  He  caused  himself  to  be  carried  from  the  scene  of  his  loss  and  misery, 
and  conveyed  to  a  quiet  residence  on  the  sea  coast — not  in  the  hope  of 
recovering  his  peace  of  mind  or  happiness,  for  both  were  fled  for  ever; 
but  to  restore  his  prostrate  energies,  and  meditate  on  his  darling  object. 
And  here,  some  evil  spirit  cast  in  his  way  the  opportunity  for  his 
first,  most  horrible  revenge. 

"  It  was  summer  time;  and  wrapped  in  his  gloomy  thoughts,  he 
would  issue  from  his  solitary  lodgings  early  in  the  evening,  and  wan- 
dering along  a  narrow  path  beneath  the  cliffs  to  a  wild  and  lonely  spot 
that  had  struck  his  fancy  in  his  ramblings,  seat  himself  on  some  fallen 
fragments  of  the  rock,  and  burying  his  face  in  his  hands,  remain  there 
for  hours — sometimes  until  night  had  completely  closed  in,  and  the 
long  shadows  of  the  frowning  cliffs  above  his  head,  cast  a  thick  black 
darkness  on  every  object  near  him. 

"  He  was  seated  here,  one  calm  evening  in  his  old  position,  now  and 
then  raising  his  head,  to  watch  the  flight  of  a  seagull,  or  carry  his  eye 
along  the  glorious  crimson  path,  which  commencing  in  the  middle  of 
the  ocean,  seemed  to  lead  to  its  very  verge  where  the  sun  was  setting 


220  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

when  the  profound  stillness  of  the  spot  was  broken  by  a  loud  cry  for 
help  ;  he  listened,  doubtful  of  his  having*  heard  aright,  when  tlie  cry 
was  repeated  with  even  greater  vehemence  than  before,  and,  starting  to 
his  feet,  he  hastened  in  the  direction  from  whence  it  proceeded. 

"  The  tale  told  itself  at  once  :  some  scattered  garments  lay  on  the 
beach ;  a  human  head  was  just  visible  above  the  waves  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  shore ;  and  an  old  man,  wringing  his  hands  in  agony, 
was  running  to  and  fro,  shrieking  for  assistance.  The  invalid,  whose 
strength  was  now  sufficiently  restored,  threw  off  his  coat,  and  rushed 
towards  the  sea,  with  the  intention  of  plunging  in,  and  dragging  the 
drowning  man  a-shore. 

'•  *  Hasten  here,  Sir,  in  God's  name ;  help,  help.  Sir,  for  the  love  of 
Heaven.  He  is  my  son,  Sir,  my  only  son,'  said  the  old  man,  fran- 
tically, as  he  advanced  to  meet  him.  '  My  only  son,  Sir,  and  he  is 
dying  before  his  father's  eyes.* 

"  At  the  first  word  the  old  man  uttered,  the  stranger  checked  him- 
self in  his  career,  and,  folding  his  arms,  stood  perfectly  motionless. 

"  '  Great  God ! '  exclaimed  the  old  man,  recoiling—'  Heyling  I ' 

"  The  stranger  smiled,  and  was  silent. 

*'  *  Heyling  ! '  said  the  old  man,  wildly — '  My  boy,  Heyling,  my  dear 
boy,  look,  look;'  and,  gasping  for  breath,  the  miser&,ble  father  pointed 
to  the  spot  where  the  young  man  was  struggling  for  life. 

"  '  Hark ! '  said  the  old  man — '  He  cries  once  more.  He  is  alive 
yet.     Heyling,  save  him,  save  him.' 

"  The  stranger  smiled  again,  and  remained  immovable  as  a  statue. 

''  "  I  have  wronged  you,'  shrieked  the  old  man,  falling  on  his  knees, 
and  clasping  his  hands  together — *  Be  revenged  ;  take  my  all,  my  life  ; 
cast  me  into  the  water  at  your  feet,  and,  if  human  nature  can  repress  a 
struggle,  I  will  die,  without  stirring  hand  or  foot.  Do  it,  Heyling,  do 
it,  but  save  my  boy,  he  is  so  young,  Heyling,  so  young  to  die.' 

"  <  Listen,'  said  the  stranger,  grasping  the  old  man  fiercely  by  the 
wrist — '  I  will  have  life  for  life,  and  here  is  one.  My  child  died  before 
his  father's  eyes,  a  far  more  agonising  and  painful  death  than  that  young 
slanderer  of  his  sister's  worth  is  meeting  while  I  speak.  You  laughed — 
laughed  in  your  daughter's  face,  where  death  had  already  set  his  hand — 
at  our  sufferings,  then.  What  think  you  of  them  now  ?  See  there, 
see  there.' 

"  As  the  stranger  spoke,  he  pointed  to  the  sea.  A  faint  cry  died 
away  upon  its  surface  :  the  last  powerful  struggle  of  the  dying  man 
agitated  the  rippling  waves  for  a  few  seconds :  and  the  spot  where  he 
had  gone,  down  into  his  early  grave,  was  undistinguishable  from  the 
surrounding  water. 

"  Three  years  had  elapsed,  when  a  gentleman  alighted  from  a  private 
carriage  at  the  door  of  a  London  attorney,  then  well  known  to  the 
public  as  a  man  of  no  great  nicety  in  his  professional  dealings,  and 
requested  a  private  interview  on  business  of  importance.  Although 
evidently  not  past  the  prime  of  life,  his  face  was  pale,  haggard,  and 
dejected ;  and  it  did  not  require  the  acute  perception  of  the  man  of 
business,  to  discern  at  a  glance,  that  disease  or  suffering  had  done  mere 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  ^21 

to  work  a  change  in  his  appearance,  than  the  mere  hand  of  time  could 
have  accomplished  in  twice  the  period  of  his  whole  life. 

"  *  I  wish  you  to  undertake  some  legal  business  for  me/  said  the 
Rtranger. 

*'  The  attorney  bowed  obsequiously,  and  glanced  at  a  large  packet 
which  the  gentleman  carried  in  his  hand.  His  visiter  observed  the 
look,  and  proceeded. 

"  *  It  is  no  common  business,'  said  he ;  '  nor  have  these  papers  reached 
my  hands  without  long  trouble  and  great  expense.* 

"  The  attorney  cast  a  still  more  anxious  look  at  the  packet :  and  his 
visiter,  untying  the  string  that  bound  it,  disclosed  a  quantity  of  promis- 
sory notes,  with  some  copies  of  deeds,  and  other  documents. 

"  *  Upon  these  papers,'  said  the  client,  '  the  man  whose  name  they 
bear,  has  raised,  as  you  will  see,  large  sums  of  money,  for  some  years 
past.  There  was  a  tacit  understanding  between  him  and  the  men  into 
whose  hands  they  originally  went — and  from  whom  I  have  by  degrees 
purchased  the  whole,  for  treble  and  quadruple  their  nominal  value — that 
these  loans  should  be  from  time  to  time  renewed,  until  a  given  period 
had  elapsed.  Such  an  understanding  is  nowhere  expressed.  He  has 
sustained  many  losses  of  late ;  and  these  obligations  accumulating  upon 
him  at  once,  would  crush  him  to  the  earth.' 

"  *  The  whole  amount  is  some  thousands  of  pounds,'  said  the  attorney, 
looking  over  the  papers. 

"  *  It  is,'  said  the  client. 

"  *  What  are  we  to  do  ? '  inquired  the  man  of  business. 

"  *  Do  I '  replied  the  client,  with  sudden  vehemence — *  Put  every 
engine  of  the  law  in  force,  every  trick  that  ingenuity  can  devise  and 
rascality  execute ;  fair  means  and  foul ;  the  open  oppression  of  the  law, 
aided  by  all  the  craft  of  its  most  ingenious  practitioners.  I  would  have 
him  die  a  harassing  and  lingering  death.  Ruin  him,  seize  and  sell  his 
lands  and  goods,  drive  him  from  house  and  home,  and  drag  him  forth  a 
beggar  in  his  old  age,  to  die  in  a  common  gaol.' 

"  '  But  the  costs,  my  dear  Sir,  the  costs  of  all  this,'  reasoned  the 
attorney,  when  he  had  recovered  from  his  momentary  surprise — *  If  the 
defendant  be  a  man  of  straw,  who  is  to  pay  the  costs.  Sir  ? ' 

"  '  Name  any  sum,'  said  the  stranger,  his  hand  trembling  so  violently 
with  excitement,  that  he  could  scarcely  hold  the  pen  he  seized  as  he 
spoke — 'Any  sum,  and  it  is  yours.  Don't  be  afraid  to  name  it,  man. 
I  shall  not  think  it  dear,  if  you  gain  my  object.* 

"  The  attorney  named  a  large  sum,  at  hazard,  as  the  advance  he 
should  require  to  secure  himself  against  the  possibility  of  loss  ;  but 
more  with  the  view  of  ascertaining  how  far  his  client  was  really  disposed 
to  go,  than  with  any  idea  that  he  would  comply  with  the  demand.  The 
stranger  wrote  a  cheque  upon  his  banker,  for  the  whole  amount,  and 
left  him. 

"  The  draft  was  duly  honoured,  and  the  attorney,  finding  that  his 
strange  client  might  be  safely  relied  upon,  commenced  his  work  in 
earnest.  For  more  than  two  years  afterwards,  Mr.  Heyling  would  sit 
whole  days  together,  in  the  office,  poring  over  the  papers  as  they  accu- 


2'22  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

mulated,  and  reading  again  and  again,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  joy,  the 
letters  of  remonstrance,  the  prayers  for  a  little  delay,  the  representa- 
tions of  the  certain  ruin  in  which  the  opposite  party  must  be  involved, 
which  poured  in,  as  suit  after  suit,  and  process  after  process,  were  com- 
menced. To  all  applications  for  a  brief  indulgence,  there  was  but  one 
reply — the  money  must  be  paid.  Land,  house,  furniture,  each  in  its 
turn,  was  taken  under  some  one  of  the  numerous  executions  which 
were  issued ;  and  the  old  man  himself  would  have  been  immured  in 
prison  had  he  not  escaped  the  vigilance  of  the  officers,  and  fled. 

"  The  implacable  animosity  of  Heyling,  so  far  from  being  satiated  by 
the  success  of  his  persecution,  increased  a  hundred-fold  with  the  ruin 
he  inflicted.  On  being  informed  of  the  old  man's  flight,  his  fury  was 
unbounded.  He  gnashed  his  teeth  with  rage,  tore  the  hair  from  his 
head,  and  assailed  with  horrid  imprecations  the  men  who  had  been 
entrusted  with  the  writ.  He  was  only  restored  to  comparative  calmness 
by  repeated  assurances  of  the  certainty  of  discovering  the  fugitive. 
Agents  were  sent  in  quest  of  him,  in  all  directions  ;  every  stratagem 
that  could  be  invented  was  resorted  to,  for  the  purpose  of  discovering 
his  place  of  retreat ;  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  Half  a  year  had  passed  over, 
and  he  was  still  undiscovered. 

"  At  length,  late  one  night,  Heyling,  of  whom  nothing  had  been  seen 
for  many  weeks  before,  appeared  at  his  attorney's  private  residence,  and 
sent  up  word  that  a  gentleman  wished  to  see  him  instantly.  Before 
the  attorney,  who  had  recognised  his  voice  from  above  stairs,  could  order 
the  servant  to  admit  him,  he  had  rushed  up  the  staircase,  and  entered 
the  drawing-room  pale  and  breathless.  Having  closed  the  door,  to  pre- 
vent being  overheard,  he  sunk  into  a  chair,  and  said,  in  a  low  voice — 

"  *  Hush  I  I  have  found  him  at  last.' 

"  *  No  !'  said  the  attorney-r-'  Well  done,  my  dear  Sir;  well  done.* 

"  *  He  lies  concealed  in  a  wretched  lodging  in  Camden  Town,'  said 
Heyling — «  Perhaps  it  is  as  well,  we  did  lose  sight  of  him,  for  he  has 
been  living  alone  there,  in  the  most  abject  misery,  all  the  time,  and  he 
is  poor — very  poor.* 

u  i  Very  good,'  said  the  attorney — *  You  will  have  the  caption  made 
to-morrow,  of  course  ?  ' 

"  *  Yes,'  replied  Heyling.  *  Stay  !  No  !  The  next  day.  You  are 
surprised  at  my  wishing  to  postpone  it,'  he  added,  with  a  ghastly  smile; 
'.  but  I  had  forgotten.  The  next  day  is  an  anniversary  in  his  life  :  let 
it  be  done  then.' 

u  i  Very  good,'  said  the  attorney — '  Will  you  write  down  instructions 
for  the  officer  ?  ' 

"  *  No ;  let  him  meet  me  here,  at  eight  in  the  evening,  and  I  will 
accompany  him  myself.' 

"  They  met  on  the  appointed  night,  and,  hiring  a  hackney-coach, 
directed  the  driver  to  stop  at  that  corner  of  the  old  Pancras  road,  at 
which  stands  the  parish  workhouse.  By  the  time  they  alighted  there, 
it  was  quite  dark ;  and,  proceeding  by  the  dead  wall  in  front  of  the 
Veterinary  Hospital,  they  entered  a  small  bye  street,  which  is,  cr  was 
at  that  time,  called  Little  College  Street,  and  which,  whatever  it  may 


f 


I 


Pi 


T^ 


» 


:c3^  z:^p~^f^ie. 


f'^^^'^^.£23. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  223 

lie  now,  was  in  those  days  a  desolate  place  enough,  surrounded  hy  little 
else  than  fields  and  ditches. 

"  Having  drawn  the  travelling-cap  he  had  on,  half  over  his  face,  and 
muffled  himself  in  his  cloak,  Heyling  stopped  before  the  meanest- 
looking  house  in  the  street,  and  knocked  gently  at  the  door.  It  was 
at  once  opened  by  a  woman,  who  dropped  a  curtesy  of  recognition,  and 
Heyling  whispering  the  officer  to  remain  below,  crept  gently  up  stairs, 
and,  opening  the  door  of  the  front  room,  entered  at  once. 

"  The  object  of  his  search  and  his  unrelenting  animosity,  now  a 
decrepid  old  man,  was  seated  at  a  bare  deal  table,  on  which  stood  a 
miserable  candle.  He  started  on  the  entrance  of  the  stranger,  and  rose 
feebly  to  his  feet. 

"  '  What  now,  what  now?'  said  the  old  man — *  What  fresh  misery  is 
this?     What  do  you  want  here?' 

«<  *  A  word  with  i/ou,'  replied  Heyling.  As  he  spoke,  he  seated 
himself  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  and,  throwing  off  his  cloak  and 
cap,  disclosed  his  features. 

"  The  old  man  seemed  instantly  deprived  of  the  power  of  speech. 
He  fell  backward  in  his  chair,  and,  clasping-  his  hands  together,  gazed 
on  the  apparition  with  a  mingled  look  of  abhorrence  and  fear. 

"  *  This  day  six  years,'  said  Heyling,  *  I  claimed  the  life  you  owed 
me  for  my  child's.  Beside  the  lifeless  form  of  your  daughter,  old  man, 
I  swore  to  live  a  life  of  revenge.  I  have  never  swerved  from  my  purpose 
for  a  moment's  space  ;  but  if  I  had,  one  thought  of  her  uncomplaining, 
suffering  look,  as  she  drooped  away,  or  of  the  starving  face  of  our  inno- 
cent child,  would  have  nerved  me  to  my  task.  My  first  act  of  requital 
you  well  remember :  this  is  my  last.' 

"  The  old  man  shivered,  and  his  hands  dropped  powerless  by  his 
side. 

"  *  I  leave  England  to-morrow,'  said  Heyling,  after  a  moment's  pause. 
— *  To-night  I  consign  you,  to  the  living  death  to  which  you  devoted 
her — a  hopeless  prison ' 

"  He  raised  his  eyes  to  the  old  man's  countenance,  and  paused.  He 
lifted  the  light  to  his  face,  set  it  gently  down,  and  left  the  apartment. 

"  '  Yon  had  better  see  to  the  old  man,'  he  said  to  the  woman,  as  he 
opened  the  door,  and  motioned  the  officer  to  follow  him  into  the  street 
— '  I  think  he  is  ill.'  The  woman  closed  the  door,  ran  hastily  up  stairs, 
and  found  him  lifeless.     He  had  died  in  a  fit. 

•       •»        »«#•««»•« 

"  Beneath  a  plain  grave-stone,  in  one  of  the  most  peaceful  and 
secluded  church-yards  in  Kent,  where  wild  flowers  mingle  with  the 
grass,  and  the  soft  landscape  around,  forms  the  fairest  spot  in  the  garden 
of  England,  lie  the  bones  of  the  young  mother  and  her  gentle  child. 
But  the  ashes  of  the  father  do  not  mingle  with  theirs  ;  nor  from  that 
night  forward,  did  the  attorney  ever  gain  the  remotest  clue,  to  the  sub- 
sequent history  of  his  queer  client." 


As  the  old  man  concluded  his  tale,  he  advanced  to  a  peg  in  one 
comer,  and  taking  down  his  hat  and  coat,  put  them  on  with  grewt 


i 


224  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

deliberation  ;  and,  without  saying"  another  word,  walked  slowly  away. 
As  the  gentleman  with  the  Mosaic  studs  had  fallen  asleep,  and  the 
major  part  of  the  company  were  deeply  occupied  in  the  humorous 
process  of  dropping*  melted  tallow-grease  into  his  brandy  and  water, 
Mr.  Pickwick  departed  unnoticed,  and  having  settled  his  own  score,  and 
that  of  Mr.  Weller,  he  issued  forth,  in  company  with  that  gentleman, 
from  beneath  the  portal  of  the  Magpie  and  Stump. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


MR.  PICKWICK  JOURNEYS  TO  IPSWICH,  AND  MEETS  WITH  A  ROMAN- 
TIC ADVENTURE  WITH  A  MIDDLE-AGED  LADY  IN  YELLOW  CURL 
PAPERS. 

•'That  'ere  your  governor's  luggage,  Sammy?''  inquired  Mr. 
Weller  senior,  of  his  affectionate  son,  as  he  entered  the  yard  of  the 
Bull  inn,  Whitechapel,  with  a  travelling  bag  and  a  small  portmanteau. 

"  You  might  ha'  made  a  worser  guess  than  that,  old  feller,"  repHed 
Mr.  Weller  the  younger,  setting  down  his  burden  in  the  yard,  and 
sitting  himself  down  upon  it  afterwards.  *'  The  Governor  hisself  '11 
be  down  here  presently." 

*'  He's  a  cabbin'  it,  I  suppose  ?"  said  the  father. 

"  Yes,  he's  a  havin'  two  mile  o'  danger  at  eight-pence,"  responded 
the  son.     "  How's  mother-in-law  this  mornin'  ?  " 

"  Queer,  Sammy,  queer,"  replied  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  with  im- 
pressive gravity.  "  She's  been  gettin'  rayther  in  the  Methodistical 
order  lately,  Sammy  ;  and  she  is  uncommon  pious,  to  be  sure.  She's 
too  good  a  creetur  for  me,  Sammy — I  feel  I  don't  deserve  her." 

''  Ah,"  said  Mr.  Samuel,  "  that's  wery  self-denyin'  o'  you." 

'<  Wery,"  replied  his  parent,  with  a  sigh.  **  She's  got  hold  o'  some 
inwention  for  grown-up  people  being  born  again,  Sammy— the  new 
birth,  I  thinks  they  calls  it.  I  should  wery  much  like  to  see  that 
system  in  haction,  Sammy.  I  should  wery  much  like  to  see  your 
mother-in-law  born  again.     Wouldn't  I  put  her  out  to  nurse  I" 

"  What  do  you  think  them  women  does  t'other  day,"  continued  Mr. 
Weller,  after  a  short  pause,  during  which  he  had  significantly  struck 
the  side  of  his  nose  with  his  fore-finger,  some  half-dozen  times.  "  What 
do  you  think  they  does,  t'other  day,  Sammy  ?  " 

"  Don't  know,"  replied  Sam,  "  what?" 

"  Goes  and  gets  up  a  grand  tea  drinkin*  for  a  feller  they  calls  their 
II  shepherd,"   said    Mr.  Weller.     "  I  was  a  standing    starin*  in,  at   the 

pictur  shop   down   at    our  place,  when   I  sees   a  little  bill  about  it ;  _, 
*  tickets  half-a-crown.     All  applications  to  be  made  to  the  committee,  fj^ 
Secretary,  Mrs.  Weller;'  and  when  I  got  home,  there  was  the  com- 
mittee a  sittin'  in  our  back  parlour— fourteen   women  ;  I   wish   you 
could  ha'  heard  'em  Sammy.     There  they  was,  a  passin'  resolutions,  ^ 
anQ   wotin'  supplies,  and  all  sorts  o'  games.     Well,   what  with  your' 
mother-in-law  a  worrying  me  to  go,  and  what  with  my  looking  for'ard! 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  225 

to  seein'  some  queer  starts  if  I  did,  I  put  my  name  down  for  a  ticket ; 
at  six  o'clock  on  the  Friday  evenin'  I  dresses  myself  out,  vvery  smart,  and 
off  I  goes  vith  the  old  'ooman,  and  up  we  walks  into  a  fust  floor  where 
there  was  tea  things  for  thirty,  and  a  whole  lot  o'  women  as  begins 
whisperin'  to  one  another,  and  lookin'  at  me,  as  if  they'd  never  seen  a 
rayther  stout  gen'lm'n  of  eight-and-fifty  afore.  By  and  bye,  there  comes 
a  great  bustle  down  stairs,  and  a  lanky  chap  with  a  red  nose  and  white 
neckcloth  rushes  up,  and  sings  out,  '  Here's  the  shepherd  a  coming  to 
wisit  his  faithful  flock ;'  and  in  comes  a  fat  chap  in  black,  vith  a  great 
white  face,  a  smilin'  avay  like  clock-work.     Such   goin's  on,  Sammy. 

*  The  kiss  of  peace,'  says  the  shepherd ;  and  then  he  kissed  the  women 
all  round,  and  ven  he'd  done,  the  man  vith  the  red  nose  began.  1  was 
just  a  thinkin'  whether  I  hadn't  better  begin  too — 'specially  as  there 
was  a  wery  nice  lady  a  sittin'  next  me — ven  in  comes  the  tea,  and  your 
mother-in-law,  as  had  been  makin*  the  kettle  boil,  down  stairs.  At  it 
they  went,  tooth  and  nail.  Such  a  precious  loud  hymn  Sammy, 
while  the  tea  was  a  brewing ;  such  a  grace,  such  eatin'  and  drinkin'.  I 
wish  you  could  ha'  seen  the  shepherd  walkin'  into  the  ham  and  muffins. 
I  never  see  such  a  chap  to  eat  and  drink — never.  The  red-nosed  man 
warn't  by  no  means  the  sort  of  person  you'd  like  to  grub  by  contract, 
but  he  was  nothin'  to  the  shepherd.  Well ;  arter  the  tea  was  over, 
they  sang  another  hymn,  and  then  the  shepherd  began  to  preach  :  and 
wery  well  he  did  it,  considerin'  how  heavy  them  muffins  must  have  lied 
on  his  chest.     Presently  he  pulls  up,  all  of  a  sudden,  and  hollers  out, 

*  Where  is  the  sinner;  where  is  the  mis'rable  sinner  ?'  upon  which,  all  the 
women  looked  at  me,  and  began  to  groan  as  if  they  was  dying.  I  thought 
it  was  rather  sing'ler,  but  hows'ever,  I  says  nothing.  Presently  he  pulls 
up  again,  and  lookin'  wery  hard  at  me,  says,  'Where  is  the  sinner;  where 
is  the  mis'rable  sinner  I '  and  all  the  women  groans  again,  ten  times 
louder  than  afore.  I  got  rather  savage  at  this,  so  I  takes  a  step  or  two 
for'ard  and  says,  *  My  friend,'  says  I,  '  did  you  apply  that  e're  obserwa- 
tion  to  me  ?' — 'Stead  of  beggin'  my  pardon  as  any  gen'lm'n  would  ha' 
done,  he  got  more  abusive  than  ever  :  called  me  a  wessel,  Sammy — a 
wessel  of  wrath — and  all  sorts  o'  names.  So  my  blood  being  reg'iarly 
up,  I  first  gave  him  two  or  three  for  himself,  and  then  two  or  three 
more  to  hand  over  to  the  man  with  the  red  nose,  and  walked  off.  I 
wish  you  could  ha'  heard  how  the  women  screamed  Sammy,  ven  they 

picked  up  the  shepherd  from  under  the  table. Hallo  !  here's  the 

governor,  the  size  of  life.'  " 

As  Mr.  Weller  spoke,  Mr.  Pickwick  dismounted  from  a  cab,  and  en- 
tered the  yard. 

"  Fine  mornin'  Sir" — said  Mr.  Weller  senior. 

"  Beautiful  indeed" — replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Beautiful  indeed,"  echoed  a  red-haired  man  with  an  inquisitive  nose 
and  blue  spectacles,  who  had  unpacked  himself  from  a  cab  at  the  same 
moment  as  Mr.  Pickwick.    "  Going  to  Ipswich,  Sir  ?  " 

**  I  am,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Extraordinary  coincidence.     So  am  I." 

Mr.  Pickwick  bowed. 

'*  Going  outside  ?  "  said  the  red-haired  man. 


I 


226  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Mr.  Pickwick  ])Osved  again. 

**  Bless  my  soul,  how  remarkable — I  am  going  outside,  too,"  said  the 
red-haired  man :  "  we  are  positively  going  together."  And  the  red- 
haired  man,  who  was  an  important-looking,  sharp-nosed,  mysterious- 
spoken  personage,  with  a  bird-like  habit  of  giving  his  head  a  jerk  every 
time  he  said  any  thing,  smiled  as  if  he  had  made  one  of  the  strangest 
discoveries  that  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  human  wisdom. 

"  I  am  happy  in  the  prospect  of  your  company.  Sir,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  new-comer,  "  it's  a  good  thing  for  both  of  us,  isn't 
it  ?  Company,  you  see — company  is — is — it's  a  very  different  thing 
from  solitude — a'n't  it  ?  " 

"  There's  no  denyin'  that  'ere,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  joining  in  the  con-  ^ 
versation,  with  an  affable  smile.     "  That's  what  I   call  a  self-evident 
proposition,  as  the  dog's-meat  man  said,  when  the  house-maid  told  him 
he  warn't  a  gentleman." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  red-haired  man,  surveying  Mr.  Weller  from  head  to 
foot,  with  a  supercilious  look.     "  Friend  of  yours.  Sir  ?  " 

'*  Not  exactly  a  friend,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  low  tone.   "  The  , 
fact  is,  he  is  my  servant,  but  I  allow  him  to  take  a  good  many  liberties  ; 
for,  between  ourselves,  I  flatter  myself  he  is  an  original,  and  I  am  rather  , 
proud  of  him." 

"•  Ah,"  said  the  red-haired  man,  "  that,  you  see,  is  a  matter  of  taste. 
1  am  not  fond  of  anything  original ;  I  don't  like  it ;  don't  see  the  neces- 
sity for  it.     What's  your  name.  Sir  ?  " 

*^  Here  is  my  card.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  much  amused  by  the 
abruptness  of  the  question,  and  the  singular  manner  of  the  stranger. 

^'  Ah,"  said  the  red-haired  man,  placing  the  card  in  his  pocket-book, 
"  Pickwick  ;  very  good.  I  like  to  know  a  man's  name,  it  saves  so  much 
trouble.  That's  ray  card.  Sir.  Magnus,  you  will  perceive.  Sir — Mag- 
nus is  my  name.     It's  rather  a  good  name,  I  think.  Sir  ?  " 

'^  A  very  good  name,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  wholly  unable  to 
repress  a  smile. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is,"  resumed  Mr.  Magnus.  "  There's  a  good  name 
before  it,  too,  you  will  observe.  Permit  me.  Sir — if  you  hold  the  card 
a  little  slanting,  this  way,  vou  catch  the  light  upon  the  up-stroke. 
There — Peter  Magnus — sounds  well,  I  think,  Sir." 

"  Very,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Curious  circumstance  about  those  initials.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 
*'  You  will  observe  —  P.  M. — post  meridian.     In  hasty  notes  to  intimate 
acquaintance,  I  sometimes   sign   myself  '  Afternoon.'     It  amuses  i»y  ■ 
friends  very  much,  Mr.  Pickwick."  f 

"  It  is  calculated  to  afford  them  the  highest  gratification,  I  should 
conceive,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rather  envying  the  ease  with  which  Mr. 
Magnus's  friends  were  entertained. 

'*  Now,  gen'lm'n,"  said  the  hostler,  "  coach  is  ready,  if  you 
please." 

"  Is  all  my  luggage  in  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Magnus. 

«  All  right.  Sir." 


THE    PICKWICK    CLIih.  227 

"  Is  the  red  bag  in  ?  " 

"  All  right,  Sir." 

"  And  the  striped  hag  ?  " 

**  Fore  boot,  Sir." 

**  And  the  brown-paper  parcel  ?" 

"  Under  the  seat,  Sir." 

'*  And  the  leather  hat-box?  " 

"  They're  all  in,  Sir." 

"  Now,  will  you  get  up  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Excuse  me,"  replied  Magnus,  standing  on  the  wheel.  "  Excuse 
me,  Mr.  Pickwick.  I  cannot  consent  to  get  up,  in  this  state  of  uncer- 
tainty. I  am  quite  satisfied  from  that  man's  manner,  that  that  leather 
hat-box  is  not  in."  ' 

The  solemn  protestations  of  the  hostler  being  wholly  unavail- 
ing, the  leather  hat-box  was  obliged  to  be  raked  up  from  the  lowest 
depth  of  the  boot,  to  satisfy  him  that  it  had  been  safely  packed ;  and 
after  he  had  been  assured  on  this  head,  he  felt  a  solemn  presentiment, 
first,  that  the  red  bag  was  mislaid,  and  next  that  the  striped  bag  had 
been  stolen,  and  then  that  the  brown  paper  parcel  had  "  come  untied.'' 
At  length  when  he  had  received  ocular  demonstration  of  the  groundless 
nature  of  each  and  every  of  these  suspicions,  he  consented  to  climb  up 
to  the  roof  of  the  coach,  observing  that  now  he  had  taken  every  thing 
off  his  mind,  he  felt  quite  comfortable  and  happy. 

"  You're  given  to  nervousness,  an't  you.  Sir?  "  inquired  Mr.  Weller 
senior,  eying  the  stranger  askance,  as  he  mounted  to  his  place. 

"  Yes  ;  I  always  am  rather,  about  these  little  matters,"  said  the 
stranger,  "  but  I  am  all  right  now — quite  right." 

"  Well,  that's  a  blessin',"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  Sammy,  help  your 
master  up  to  the  box :  t'other  leg.  Sir,  that's  it ;  give  us  your  hand,  Sir. 
Up  with  you.     You  was  a  lighter  weight  when  you  was  a  boy.  Sir." 

"  True  enough,  that,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  the  breathless  Mr.  Pickwick, 
good-humouredly,  as  he  took  his  seat  on  the  box  beside  him. 

"  Jump  up  in  front,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  Now  Villam, 
run  'em  out.  Take  care  o'  the  archvay,  gen'lm'n.  *  Heads/  as  the 
pieman  says.  That'll  do,  Villam.  Let  'em  alone."  And  away  went 
the  coach  up  Whitechapel,  to  the  admiration  of  the  whole  population  of 
that  pretty  densely-populated  quarter. 

"  Not  a  wery  nice  neighbourhood  this.  Sir,"  said  Sam,  with  the  touch 
of  the  hat  which  always  preceded  his  entering  into  conversation  with 
his  master. 

"  It  is  not  indeed,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  surveying  the  crowded 
and  filthy  street  through  which  they  were  passing. 

"  It's  a  wery  remarkable  circumstance.  Sir,"  said  Sam,  "  that  poverty 
and  oysters  always  seems  to  go  together." 

"  1  don't  understand  you,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  What  I  mean.  Sir,"  said  Sam,  "  is,  that  the  poorer  a  place  is,  the 
greater  call  there  seems  to  be  for  oysters.  Look  here.  Sir ;  here's  a 
oyster  stall  to  every  half  dozen  houses — the  street's  lined    vith  'em 

T 


L 


228  rosTHUAfous  papers  of 

Blessed  if  I   don't   think  that  ven  a  man's  wery  poor,  he  rushes  out  of 
l)is  lodgings,  and  eats  oysters  in  reg'lar  desperation." 

"  To  be  sure  he  does,"  said  Mr.  Weller  senior,  "  and  it's  just  the 
same  vith  pickied  salmon  !  " 

"  Those  are  two  very  remarkable  facts,  which  never  occurred  to  me 
before,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  The  very  first  place  we  stop  at,  I'll 
make  a  note  of  them." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  turnpike  at  Mile  End  ;  a  profound 
silence  prevailed,  until  they  had  got  two  or  three  miles  further  on,  when 
Mr.  Weller  senior  turning  suddenly  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  said — 

*'  Wery  queer  life  is  a  pike-keeper's,  Sir." 

*'  A  what  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  A  pike-keeper." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  pike-keeper  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Peter 
Magnus. 

"  The  old  *un  means  a  turnpike  keeper,  gen'lm'n,"  observed  Mr. 
Weller,  in  explanation. 

"  Oh,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  see.  Yes;  very  curious  life.  Very 
uncomfortable." 

"  They're  all  on  *em,  men  as  has  met  vith  some  disappointment  in 
life,"  said  Mr.  Weller  senior. 

"  Ay,  ay  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Yes.     Consequence  of  vich,  they  retires  from  the  world,  and  shuts* 
themselves  up  in  pikes ;  partly  vith   the  view  of  being  solitary,  and 
partly  to  rewenge  themselves  on  mankind,  by  takin'  tolls." 

*'  Dear  me,'*  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  never  knew  that  before." 

"  Fact,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "  if  they  was  gen'lm'n  you'd  call  'em 
misanthropes,  but  as  it  is  they  only  takes  to  pike-keepin'." 

With  such  conversation,  possessing  the  inestimable  charm  of  blending 
amusement  with  instruction,  did  Mr.  Weller  beguile  the  tediousness  of 
the  journey,  during  the  greater  part  of  the  day.  Topics  of  conversation 
were  never  wanting,  for  even  when  any  pause  occurred  in  Mr.  Weller's 
loquacity,  it  was  abundantly  supplied  by  the  desire  evinced  by  Mr. 
Magnus  to  make  himself  acquainted  with  the  whole  of  the  personal 
history  of  his  fellow-travellers,  and  his  loudly-expressed  anxiety  at  every 
stage,  respecting  the  safety  and  well-being  of  the  two  bags,  the  leather 
hat-box,  and  the  brown  paper  parcel. 

In  the  main  street  of  Ipswich,  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  way,  a 
short  distance  after  you  have  passed  through  the  open  space  fronting 
the  Town  Hall,  stands  an  inn  known  far  and  wide  by  the  appellation  of 
**  The  Great  White  Horse,"  rendered  the  more  conspicuous  by  a  stone 
statue  of  some  rampacious  animal  with  flowing  mane  and  tail,  distantly 
resembling  an  insane  cart-horse,  which  is  elevated  above  the  principal 
door.  The  Great  White  Horse  is  famous  in  the  neighbourhood,  in  the 
same  degree  as  a  prize  ox,  or  county  paper-chronicled  turnip,  or  un- 
^vieldy  pig — for  its  enormous  size.  Never  were  such  labyrinths  of 
uncarpeted  passages,  such  clusters  of  mouldy,  badly-lighted  rooms,  such 
Luge  numbers  of  small  dens  for  eating  or  sleeping  in,  beneath  any  one 


THE    PICRWICK    CF.UB.  22^ 

roof,  as  are  collected  together  betwoen  the   four   walls  of  the  Great 
White  Horse  at  Ipswich. 

It  was  at  the  door  of  this  overgrown  tavern,  that  the  London  coacli 
stopped,  at  the  same  hour  every  evening  ;  and  it  was  from  this  same 
London  coach,  that  Mr.  Pickwick,  Sam  Weller,  and  Mr.  Peter  Magnus 
dismounted,  on  the  particular  evenings  to  which  thischapterof  our  history- 
bears  reference. 

"  Do  you  stop  here.  Sir  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  when  the 
striped  bag-,  and  the  red  bag,  and  the  brown  paper  parcel,  and  the  leather 
hat-box,  had  all  been  deposited  in  the  passage.  "  Do  you  stop  here, 
Sir?  " 

"  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  ''  I  never  knew  anything  like  these 
extraordinary  coincidences.  Why,  I  stop  here,  too.  I  hope  we  dine 
together  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  I  am  not  quite  certain 
whether  I  have  any  friends  here  or  not,  though.  Is  there  ny  gentle- 
man of  the  name  of  Tupman  here,  waiter  ?  " 

A  corpulent  man,  with  a  fortnight's  napkin  under  his  arm,  and  coeval 
stockings  on  his  legs,  slowly  desisted  from  his  occupation  of  staring 
down  the  street,  on  this  question  being  put  to  him  by  Mr.  Pickwick ; 
and,  after  minutely  inspecting  that  gentleman's  appearance,  from  the 
crown  of  his  hat  to  the  lowest  button  of  his  gaiters,  replied  emphati- 
cally— 
*'No." 

"  Nor  any  gentleman   of  the  name  of  Snodgrass  ? "   inquired  ivlr 
Pickwick. 
"  No  !  " 

«' Nor  Winkle?" 
«  No." 

"  My  friends  have  not  arrived  to-day.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  *'  We 
will  dine  alone,  then.     Shew  us  a  private  room,  waiter." 

On  this  request  being  preferred,  the  corpulent  man  condescended  to 
order  the  boots  to  bring  in  the  gentlemen's  luggage,  and  precedmg 
them  down  a  long  dark  passage,  ushered  them  into  a  large  badly-fur- 
nished apartment,  with  a  dirty  grate,  in  which  a  small  fire  was  making 
a  wretched  attempt  to  be  cheerful,  but  was  fast  sinking  beneath  the 
dispiriting  influence  of  the  place.  After  the  lapse  of  an  hour,  a  bit  of 
fish  and  a  steak,  were  served  up  to  the  travellers,  and  when  the  dinner 
was  cleared  away,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  drew  their 
chairs  up  to  the  fire,  and  having  ordered  a  bottle  of  the  worst  possible 
port  wine,  at  the  highest  possible  price,  for  the  good  of  the  house,  drank 
brandy  and  water  for  their  own. 

Mr.  Peter  Magnus  was  naturally  of  a  very  communicative  disposition, 
and  the  brandy  and  water  operated  with  wonderful  effect  in  warming 
mto  life  the  deepest  hidden  secrets  of  his  bosom.  After  sundry  accounts 
of  himself,  his  family,  his  connexions,  his  friends,  his  jokes,  his  business, 
and  his  brothers  (most  talkative  men  have  a  great  deal  to  say  about 
their  brothers),   Mr.  Peter  Magnus  took  a  blue  view  of  Mr.  Pickwick 

T  2 


T* 


I 


230  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


through  his  coloured  spectacles  for  several  minutes,  and  then  said,  with 
an  air  of  modesty — 

"  And  what  do  you  think — what  do  you  think,  Mr.  Pickwick — 1 
have  come  down  here  for  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  it  is  wholly  impossible  for 
me  to  g-uess  ;  on  business,  perhaps." 

"  Partly  right.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  '^  but  partly  wrong, 
at  the  same  time :  try  again,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

"  Really,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  must  throw  myself  on  your  mercy, 
to  tell  me  or  not,  as  you  may  think  best ;  for  I  should  never  guess,  if  I 
were  to  try  all  night." 

"  Why,  then,  he — he — he  !"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  with  a  bashful 
titter,  "  What  should  you  think,  Mr.  Pickwick,  if  I  had  come  down 
here,  to  make  a  proposal.  Sir,  eh  ?     He — he — he  I '' 

"  Think  !  that  you  are  very  likely  to  succeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick^ 
with  one  of  his  most  beaming  smiles. 

"  Ah  !"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  '*  but  do  you  really  think  so,  Mr.  Pickwick? 
Do  you,  though  ?" 

•'  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  No  ;  but  you're  joking,  though.'* 

"  I  am  not,  indeed." 

"  Why,  then,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  *'  to  let  you  into  a  little  secret,  / 
think  so  too.  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  Mr.  Pickwick,  although  I'm 
dreadful  jealous  by  nature — horrid — that  the  lady  is  in  this  house." 
Here  Mr.  Magnus  took  off  his  spectacles,  on  purpose  to  wink,  and 
then  put  them  on  again. 

'^  That's  what  you  were  running  out  of  the  room  for,  before  dinner, 
then,  so  often,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  archly. 

"  Hush — yes,  you're  right,  that  was  it;  not  such  a  fool  as  to  see 
her,  though." 

«No!" 

"  No;  wouldn't  do,  you  know,  after  having  just  come  off  a  journey. 
Wait  till  to-morrow.  Sir  ;  double  the  chance  then.  Mr.  Pickwick,  Sir, 
there  is  a  suit  of  clothes  in  that  bag,  and  a  hat  in  that  box,  which  I  expect, 
in  the  effect  they  will  produce,  will  be  invaluable  to  me.  Sir." 

"  Indeed  I"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Yes;  you  must  have  observed  my  anxiety  about  them  to-day.  I 
do  not  believe  that  such  another  suit  of  clothes,  and  such  a  hat,  could 
be  bought  for  money,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

Mr.  Pickwick  congratulated  the  fortunate  owner  of  the  irresistible 
garments,  on  their  acquisition  ;  and  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  remained  for  a 
few  moments,  apparently  absorbed  in  contemplation. 

"  She's  a  fine  creature,"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 

"  Is  she  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Very,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  "  very.  She  lives  about  twenty  miles 
from  here,  Mr.  Pickwick.  I  heard  she  would  be  here  to-night  and  all 
to-morrow  forenoon,  and  came  down  to  seize  the  opportunity.  I  think 
an  inn  is  a  good  sort  of  place  to  propose  to  a  single  woman  in,  Mr. 
Pickwick.     She  is  more   likely  to  feel  the  loneliness  of  her  situation 


I 


ifE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  231 

ill  triivelling,  perliitps,  than  she  would  he  at  home.    What  do  you  think, 
Mr.  Pickwick  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  very  probable,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

♦'  I  beg:  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  "but 
I  am  naturally  rather  curious ;  what  may  you  have  come  down  here 
for?" 

"  On  a  far  less  pleasant  errand,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  the 
colour  mounting-  to  his  face  at  the  recollection — "  I  have  come  down 
here,  Sir,  to  expose  the  treachery  and  falsehood  of  an  individual,  upon 
whose  truth  and  honour  I  placed  implicit  reliance." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  "  that's  very  unpleasant.  It 
is  a  lady,  I  presume  ?  Eh  ?  ah !  Sly,  Mr.  Pickwick,  sly.  Well, 
Mr.  Pickwick,  Sir,  I  wouldn't  probe  your  feelings  for  the  world. 
Painful  subjects,  these,  Sir,  very  painful.  Don't  mind  me,  Mr.  Pickwick, 
if  you  wish  to  give  vent  to  your  feelings.  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  jilted. 
Sir;  I  have  endured  that  sort  of  thing  three  or  four  times." 

"  1  am  much  obliged  to  you,  for  your  condolence  on  what  you  presume 
to  be  my  melancholy  case,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  winding  up  his  watch, 
and  lying  it  on  the  table,  "  but — " 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  "  not  a  word  more  :  it's  a  painful 
subject,  I  see,  I  see.     What's  the  time,  Mr.  Pickwick?" 

•'  Past  twelve." 

"  Dear  me,  it's  time  to  go  to  bed.  It  will  never  do,  sitting  here,  x 
shall  be  pale  to-morrow,  Mr,  Pickwick." 

At  the  bare  notion  of  such  a  calamity,  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  rang  the 
bell  for  the  chamber-maid ;  and  the  striped  bag,  the  red  bag,  the  leather 
hat-box,  and  the  brown-paper  parcel,  having  been  conveyed  to  his  bed- 
room, he  retired  in  company  with  a  japanned  candlestick,  to  one  side  of 
the  house,  while  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  another  japanned  candlestick,  were 
conducted  through  a  multitude  of  tortuous  windings,  to  another. 

"  This  is  your  room.  Sir,"  said  the  chamber-maid. 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round  him.  It  was  a 
tolerably  large  double-bedded  room,  with  a  fire ;  upon  the  whole,  a  more 
comfortable-looking  apartment  than  Mr.  Pickwick's  short  experience 
of  the  accommodations  of  the  Great  White  Horse  had  led  him  to 
expect. 

"  Nobody  sleeps  in  the  other  bed,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Oh  no.  Sir." 

"  Very  good.  Tell  my  servant  to  bring  me  up  some  hot  water  at 
half-past  eight  in  the  morning,  and  that  I  shall  not  want  him  any  more 
to-night." 

"  Yes,  Sir."  And  bidding  Mr.  Pickwick  good  night,  the  chamber- 
maid retired,  and  left  him  alone. 

Mr.  Pickwick  sat  himself  down  in  a  chair  before  the  fire,  and  fell 
into  a  train  of  rambling  meditations.  First  he  thought  of  his  friends, 
and  wondered  when  they  would  join  him  ;  then  his  mind  reverted  to 
Mrs.  Martha  Bardell ;  and  from  that  lady  it  wandered,  by  a  natural 
process,  to  the  dingy  counting-house  of  Dodson  and  Fogg.  From 
Dodson  and  Fogg's  it  flew  off  at  a  tangent,  to  the  very  centre  of  the. 


232  rosTiiUiMOUs  papehs  of 

history  of  the  queer  client :  and  then  it  came  back  to  the  Great  White 
Horse  at  Ipswich,  with  sufficient  clearness  to  convince  Mr.  Pickwick 
that  he  was  falling  asleep :  so  he  roused  himself,  and  began  to  undress, 
when  he  recollected  he  had  left  his  watch  on  the  table  down  stairs. 

Now  this  watch  was  a  special  favourite  with  Mr.  Pickwick,  having 
been  carried  about,  beneath  the  shadow  of  his  waistcoat,  for  a  greater 
number  of  years  than  we  feel  called  upon  to  state,  at  present.  The 
possibility  of  going  to  sleep,  unless  it  were  ticking  gently  beneath  his 
pillow,  or  in  the  watch-pocket  over  his  head,  had  never  entered  Mr. 
Pickwick's  brain.  So  as  it  was  pretty  late  now,  and  he  was  unwilling 
to  ring  his  bell  at  that  hour  of  the  night,  he  slipped  on  his  coat,  of 
which  he  had  just  divested  himself,  and  taking  the  japanned  candlestick 
in  his  hand,  walked  quietly  down  stairs. 

The  more  stairs  Mr.  Pickwick  went  down,  the  more  stairs  there 
seemed  to  be  to  descend,  and  again  and  again,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  got 
into  some  narrow  passage,  and  began  to  congratulate  himself  on  having 
gained  the  ground-floor,  did  another  flight  of  stairs  appear  before  his 
astonished  eyes.  At  last  he  reached  a  stone  hall,  which  he  remembered 
to  have  seen  when  he  entered  the  house.  Passage  after  passage  did  he- 
explore ;  room  after  room  did  he  peep  into ;  at  length,  just  as  he  was 
on  the  point  of  giving  up  the  search  in  despair,  he  opened  the  door  of 
the  identical  room  in  which  he  had  spent  the  evening,  and  beheld  his 
missing  property  on  the  table. 

Mr.  Pickwick  seized  the  watch  in  triumph,  and  proceeded  to  re-trace 
his  steps  to  his  bed-chamber.  If  his  progress  downwards  had  been 
attended  with  difficulties  and  uncertainty,  his  journey  back,  was  infinitely 
more  perplexing.  Rows  of  doors,  garnished  with  boots  of  every  shape, 
make,  and  size,  branched  off  in  every  possible  direction.  A  dozen  times 
did  he  softly  turn  the  handle  of  some  bed-room  door,  which  resembled 
his  own,  when  agruif  cry  from  within  of  "  Who  the  devil's  that?"  or 
"  What  do  you  want  here  ?  "  caused  him  to  steal  away,  on  tiptoe,  with  a 
perfectly  marvellous  celerity.  He  was  reduced  to  the  verge  of  despair, 
when  an  open  door  attracted  his  attention.  He  peeped  in — right  at 
last.  There  were  the  two  beds,  whose  situation  he  perfectly  remembered, 
and  the  fire  still  burning.  His  candle,  not  a  long  one  when  he  first 
received  it,  had  flickered  away  in  the  drafts  of  air  through  which  he 
had  passed,  and  sunk  into  the  socket,  just  as  he  closed  the  door  after 
him.  "  No  matter,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  can  undress  myself  just 
as  well,  by  the  light  of  the  fire." 

The  bedsteads  stood,  one  on  each  side  of  the  door ;  and  on  the  inner 
side  of  each,  was  a  little  path,  terminating  in  a  rush-bottomed  chair,  just 
wide  enough  to  admit  of  a  person's  getting  into,  or  out  of  bed,  on  that 
side,  if  he  or  she  thought  proper.  Having  carefully  drawn  the  curtains 
of  his  bed  on  the  outside,  Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  on  the  rush-bottomed 
chair,  and  leisurely  divested  himself  of  his  shoes  and  gaiters.  He  then  took 
off  and  folded  up,  his  coat,  waistcoat,  and  neck-cloth,  and  slowly  drawing 
on  his  tasseled  night-cap,  secured  it  firmly  on  his  head,  by  tying  beneath 
his  chin,  the  strings  which  he  always  had  attached  to  that  article  of 
dress.     It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  absurdity  of  his  recent  bewilder- 


^ 


paa6  2-33. 


rilE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


i>3a 


nient  struck  upon  his  mind  ;  and  throwing  himself  back  in  the  rush- 
bottomed  chair,  Mr.  Pickwick  laug-hed  to  himself  so  heartily,  that  it 
would  have  been  quite  delightful  to  any  man  of  well -constituted  mind 
to  have  watched  the  smiles  which  expanded  his  amiable  features  as  they 
shone  forth,  from  beneath  the  night-cap. 

"  It  is  the  best  idea,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  to  himself,  smiling  till  he 
almost  cracked  the  night-cap  strings — "  It  is  the  best  idea,  my  losing 
myself  in  this  place,  and  wandering  about  those  staircases,  that  I  ever 
heard  of.  Droll,  droll,  very  droll."  Here  Mr.  Pickwick  smiled  again, 
a  broader  smile  than  before,  and  was  about  to  continue  the  process  of 
undressing,  in  the  best  possible  humour,  when  he  was  suddenly  stopped 
by  a  most  unexpected  interruption ;  to  wit,  the  entrance  into  the  room 
of  some  person  with  a  candle,  who,  after  locking  the  door,  advanced  to 
the  dressing  table,  and  set  down  the  light  upon  it. 

The  smile  that  played  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  features,  was  instanta- 
neously lost  in  a  look  of  the  most  unbounded  and  wonder-stricken  sur- 
prise. The  person,  whoever  it  was,  had  come  in  so  suddenly  and  with 
so  little  noise,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  had  had  no  time  to  call  out,  or  oppose 
their  entrance.  Who  could  it  be  ?  A  robber  ?  Some  evil-minded 
person  who  had  seen  him  come  up  stairs  with  a  handsome  watch  in  his 
hand,  perhaps.     What  was  he  to  do  ! 

The  only  way  in  which  Mr.  Pickwick  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  his 
mysterious  visiter  with  the  least  danger  of  being  seen  himself,  was  by 
creeping  on  to  the  bed,  and  peeping  out  from  between  the  curtains 
on  the  opposite  side.  To  this  manoeuvre  he  accordingly  reported. 
Keeping  the  curtains  carefully  closed  with  his  hand,  so  that  nothing 
more  of  him  could  be  seen  than  his  face  and  night-cap,  and  putting  on 
his  spectacles,  he  mustered  up  courage,  and  looked  out. 

Mr.  Pickwick  almost  fainted  with  horror  and  dismay.  Standing  before 
the  dressing  glass,  was  a  middle-aged  lady  in  yellow  curl-papers,  busily 
engaged  in  brushing  what  ladies  call  their  "  back  hair."  However 
the  unconscious  middle- aged  lady  came  into  that  room,  it  was  quite  clear 
that  she  contemplated  remaining  there  for  the  night ;  for  she  had 
brought  a  rushlight  and  shade  with  her,  which,  with  praiseworthy  pre- 
caution against  fire,  she  had  stationed  in  a  basin  on  the  floor,  where  it 
was  glimmering  away,  like  a  gigantic  lighthouse,  in  a  particularly  small 
piece  of  water. 

"  Bless  my  soul,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  *'  what  a  dreadful  thing  ! " 

"  Hem  ! "  said  the  lady ;  and  in  went  Mr.  Pickwick's  head  with  auto- 
maton-like rapidity. 

"  I  never  met  with  anything  so  awful  as  this," — thought  poor  Mr. 
IMckwick,  the  cold  perspiration  starting  in  drops  upor  his  nightcap. 
"  Never.     This  is  fearful." 

It  was  quite  impossible  to  resist  the  urgent  desire  to  see  what  was 
poing  forward.  So  out  went  Mr.  Pickwick's  head  again.  The  prospect 
was  worse  than  before.  The  middle-aged  lady  had  finished  arranging 
her  hair;  had  carefully  enveloped  it,  in  a  muslin  night-cap  with  a  small 
jdaited  border,  and  was  gazing  pensively  on  the  fire. 

"  This  matter  is  growing  alarming" — reasoned  Mr.  Pickwick  with 
himself.     "  I  can't  allow  things  to  go  on  in  this  way.     By  the  self-pos- 


234  posriiuMous  papers  of 

session  of  that  lady,  it's  clear  to  me  that  I  must  have  come  into  the 
wrong  room.  If  I  call  out,  she'll  alarm  the  house^  but  if  I  remain  here 
the  consequences  will  be  still  more  frightful." 

Mr.  Pickwick,  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  say,  was  one  of  the  most 
modest  and  delicate-minded  of  mortals.  The  very  idea  of  exhibiting 
his  night-cap  to  a  lady,  overpowered  him,  but  he  had  tied  those  con- 
founded strings  in  a  knot,  and  do  what  he  would,  he  couldn't  get  it  oif. 
The  disclosure  must  be  made.  There  was  only  one  other  way  of  doing 
it.     He  shrunk  behind  the  curtains,  and  called  out  very  loudly — 

"  Ha — bum." 

That  the  lady  started  at  this  unexpected  sound  was  evident,  by  her 
falling  up  against  the  rushlight  shade ;  that  she  persuaded  herself  it 
must  have  been  the  effect  of  imagination  was  equally  clear,  for  when 
Mr.  Pickwick,  under  the  impression  that  she  had  fainted  away,  stone- 
dead  from  fright,  ventured  to  peep  out  again,  she  was  gazing  pensively 
on  the  fire  as  before. 

"  Most  extraordinary  female  this,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  popping 
in  again.     "  Ha— hum/' 

These  last  sounds,  so  like  those  in  which,  as  legends  inform  us,  the 
ferocious  giant  Blunderbore  was  in  the  habit  of  expressing  his  opinion 
that  it  was  time  to  lay  the  cloth,  were  too  distinctly  audible,  to  be  again 
mistaken  for  the  workings  of  fancy. 

"  Gracious  Heaven  ! "  said  the  middle-aged  lady,  "  what's  that  I " 

"  It's — it's — only  a  gentleman,  Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  from 
behind  the  curtains. 

"  A  gentleman  I"  said  the  lady  with  a  terrific  scream. 

"  It's  all  over,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  A  strange  man  I"  shrieked  the  lady.  Another  instant,  and  the 
house  would  be  alarmed.  Her  garments  rustled  as  she  rushed  towards 
the  door. 

"  Ma'am" — said  Mr.  Pickwick,  thrusting  out  his  head,  in  the  extre- 
mity of  his  desperation,  "  Ma'am." 

Now  although  Mr.  Pickwick  was  not  actuated  by  any  definite  object 
in  putting  out  his  head,  it  was  instantaneously  productive  of  a  good 
effect.  The  lady,  as  we  have  already  stated,  was  near  the  door.  She 
must  pass  it,  to  reach  the  staircase,  and  she  would  most  undoubt- 
edly have  done  so,  by  this  time,  had  not  the  sudden  apparition  of  Mr. 
Pickwick's  night-cap  driven  her  back,  into  the  remotest  corner  of  the 
apartment,  where  she  stood,  staring  wildly  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  while  Mr. 
Pickwick  in  his  turn,  stared  wildly  at  her. 

"  Wretch," — said  the  lady,  covering  her  eyes  with  her  hands,  "  what 
do  you  want  here?" 

"  Nothing,  Ma'am — nothing  whatever,  Ma'am ;"  said  Mr.  Pickwick 
earnestly. 

"  Nothing  !"  said  the  lady,  looking  up. 

"  Nothing,  Ma'am,  upon  my  honour,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  nodding 
his  head  so  energetically,  that  the  tassel  of  his  night-cap  danced  again. 
"  I  am  almost  ready  to  sink.  Ma'am,  beneath  the  confusion  of  addressing 
a  lady  in  my  night-cap  (here  the  lady  hastily  snatched  off  her's),  but  I 
can't  get  it  off.  Ma'am   (here  Mr.  Pickwick  gave  it  a  tremendous  tug, 


/ 


TME    PICKWICK    CLUB.  335 

ill  proof  of  the  statement).  It  is  evident  to  me  Mit'am  now,  that  I 
have  mistaken  this  bed-room  for  my  own.  I  had  not  been  here  five 
minutes  Ma'am,  when  you  suddenly  entered  it." 

"  If  this  improbable  story  be  really  true  Sir" — said  the  lady,  sobbing 
violently,  "  you  will  leave  it  instantly." 

''  I  will  Ma'am  with  the  greatest  pleasure" — replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Instantly,  Sir,"  said  the  lady. 

"  Certainly,  Ma'am,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick  very  quickly.  "  Cer- 
tainly, Ma'am.  I — I — am  very  sorry,  Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
making  his  appearance  at  the  bottom  of  the  bed,  "  to  have  been  the 
innocent  occasion  of  this  alarm  and  emotion  ;  deeply  sorry,  Ma'am." 

The  lady  pointed  to  the  door.  One  excellent  quality  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's character  was  beautifully  displayed  at  this  moment,  under  the 
most  trying  circumstances.  Although  he  had  hastily  put  on  his  hat 
over  his  night-cap,  after  the  manner  of  the  old  patrol ;  although  he 
carried  his  shoes  and  gaiters  in  his  hand,  and  his  coat  and  waistcoat 
over  his  arm,  nothing  could  subdue  his  native  politeness. 

''  I  am  exceedingly  sorry,  Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  bowing  very 
low. 

*'  If  you  are.  Sir,  you  will  at  once  leave  the  room,"  said  the  lady. 

"  Immediately,  Ma'am ;  this  instant,  Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick 
opening  the  door,  and  dropping  both  his  shoes  with  a  loud  crash  in  so 
doing. 

"  I  trust.  Ma'am,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  gathering  up  his  shoes, 
and  turning  round  to  bow  again.  "  I  trust.  Ma'am,  that  my  unblemished 
character,  and  the  devoted  respect  I  entertain  for  your  sex,  will  plead 
as  some  slight  excuse  for  this" — But  before  Mr.  Pickwick  could  con- 
clude the  sentence,  the  lady  had  thrust  him  into  the  passage,  and 
locked  and  bolted  the  door  behind  him. 

Whatever  grounds  of  self-congratulation  Mr.  Pickwick  might  have, 
for  having  escaped  so  quietly  from  his  late  awkward  situation,  his  pre- 
sent position  was  by  no  means  enviable.  He  was  alone,  in  an  open 
passage,  in  a  strange  house,  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  half  dressed  ;  it 
was  not  to  be  supposed  that  he  could  find  his  way  in  perfect  darkness 
to  a  room  which  he  had  been  wholly  unable  to  discover  with  a  light, 
and  if  he  made  the  slightest  noise  in  his  fruitless  attempts  to  do  so,  he 
stood  every  chance  of  being  shot  at,  and  perhaps  killed,  by  some  wake- 
ful traveller.  He  had  no  resource  but  to  remain  where  he  was,  until 
daylight  appeared.  So  after  groping  his  way  a  few  paces  down  the 
passage,  and  to  his  infinite  alarm,  stumbling  over  several  pairs  of  boots 
in  so  doing,  Mr.  Pickwick  crouched  into  a  little  recess  in  the  wall,  to 
wait  for  morning,  as  philosophically  as  he  might. 

He  was  not  destined,  however,  to  undergo  this  additional  trial  of 
patience :  for  he  had  not  been  long  ensconced  in  his  present  conceal- 
ment when,  to  his  unspeakable  horror,  a  man,  bearing  a  light,  appeared 
at  the  end  of  the  passage.  His  horror  was  suddenly  converted  into  joy, 
however,  when  he  recognised  the  form  of  his  faithful  attendant.  It 
was  indeed  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  who  after  sitting  up  thus  late,  in  con- 
versation with  the  Boots,  who  was  sitting  up  for  the  mail,  was  now 
about  to  retire  to  rest. 


« 


2;iG  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OP 


'•^  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  suddenly  appearing-  before  him,  "  Where's 
■  iTT-v  hed-room  ?" 

.Mr.  VVeller  stared  at  his  master  with  the  most  emphatic  surprise ; 
and  it  was  not  until  the  question  had  been  repeated  three  several  times, 
that  he  turned  round,  and  led  the  way  to  the  long-sought  apartment. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  as  he  g"ot  into  bed.     "  I  have  made  one 
of  the  most  extraordinary  mistakes  to-nig-ht,  that  ever  were  heard  of." 
'     "  Wery  likely.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller  drily. 

'*  But  of  this  I  am  determined,  Sara,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  "  that 
if  1  were  to  stop  in  this  house  for  six  months,  I  would  never  trust  my- 
self about  it,  alone,  again." 

'  <<  'J'hat's  the  wery  prudentest  resolution  as  you  could  come  to,  Sir," 
replied  Mr.  Weller.  *'  You  rayther  want  somebody  to  look  arter  you 
Sir,  ven  your  judgment  goes  out  a  wisitin'." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Sam  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  raised 
himself  in  bed,  and  extended  his  hand,  as  if  he  were  about  to  say  some- 
thing- more  ;  but  suddenly  checking-  himself,  turned  round,  and  bade  his 
yalet  "  Good  night.*' 

"  Good  night.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  He  paused  when  he  got 
outside  the  door — shook  his  head — walked  on — stopped — snuffed  the 
candle — shook  his  head  again — and  finally  proceeded  slowly  tj  his 
chamber,  apparently  buried  in  the  profoundest  meditation. 


CHAPTER  XXHI. 


IN    WHICH    MR.   SAMUEL    WELLER    BEGINS    TO   DEVOTE  HIS  ENERGIES 
TO    THE    RETURN    MATCH   BETWEEN    HIMSELF    AND    MR.  TROTTER. 

In  a  small  room  in  the  vicinity  of  the  stable-yard,  betimes  in  the 
morning,  which  was  ushered  in  by  Mr.  Pickwick's  adventure  with  the 
middle-aged  lady  in  the  yellow  curl-papers,  sat  Mr.  Weller  senior,  pre- 
paring himself  for  his  journey  to  London.  He  was  sitting  in  an  excel- 
lent attitude  for  having  his  portrait  taken ;  and  here  it  is. 

It  is  very  possible  that  at  some  earlier  period  of  his  career,  Mr. 
Weller's  profile  might  have  presented  a  bold,  and  determined  outline. 
His  face,  however,  had  expanded  under  the  influence  of  good  living, 
and  a  disposition  remarkable  for  resignation  ;  and  its  bold  fleshy  curves 
had  so  far  extended  beyond  the  limits  originally  assigned  them,  that 
unless  you  took  a  full  view  of  his  countenance  in  front,  it  was  difficult 
to  distinguish  more  than  the  extreme  tip  of  a  very  rubicund  nose. 
His  chin,  from  the  same  cause,  had  acquired  the  grave  and  imposing 
form  which  is  generally  described  by  prefixing  the  word  "  double"  to  K 
that  expressive  feature,  and  his  complexion  exhibited  that  peculiarly 
mottled  combination  of  colours  which  is  only  to  be  seen  in  gentlemen 
of  his  profession,  and  underdone  roast  beef.  ■  Round  his  heck  he  wore 
a  crimson  travelling  shawl,  which  merged  into  his  chin  by  such  imper- 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  237 

ceptible  grudatiuns,  that  it  was  iliBicult  to  distinguii^h  the  folds  of  the 
one,  from  the  folds  of  the  other.  Over  this,  he  mounted  a  long  waist- 
coat of  a  broad  pink-striped  pattern,  and  over  that  ag-ain,  a  wide- 
skirted  green  coat,  ornamented  with  larg-e  brass  buttons,  whereof  the 
two  which  garnished  the  waist,  were  so  far  apart,  that  no  man  had  ever 
beheld  them  both,  at  the  same  time.  His  hair,  which  was  short,  sleek, 
and  black,  was  just  visible  beneath  the  capacious  brim  of  a  low-crowned 
brown  hat.  His  legs  were  encased  in  knee-cord  breeches,  and  painted 
top-boots :  and  a  copper  watch-chain  terminating  in  one  seal,  and  a  key 
of  the  same  material,  dangled  loosely  from  his  capacious  waist-band. 

We  have  said  that  Mr.  Weller  was  engaged  in  preparing  for  his 
journey  to  London — he  was  taking  sustenance,  in  fact.  On  the  table 
before  him,  stood  a  pot  of  ale,  a  cold  round  of  beef,  and  a  very  respect- 
able-looking loaf,  to  each  of  which  he  distributed  his  favours  in  turn, 
with  the  most  rigid  impartiality.  He  had  just  cut  a  mighty  slice  from 
the  latter,  when  the  footsteps  of  somebody  entering  the  room,  caused 
him  to  raise  his  head ;  and  he  beheld  his  son. 

"  Mornin'  Sammy,"  said  the  father. 

The  son  walked  up  to  the  pot  of  ale,  and  nodding  significantly  to  his 
parent,  took  a  long  draught  by  way  of  reply. 

"  Wery  good  power  o'  suction,  Sammy,"  .said  Mr.  Weller  the  elder, 
looking  into  the  pot,  when  his  lirst-born  had  set  it  down  half  empty. 
"  You'd  ha'  made  an  uncommon  fine  oyster,  Sammy,  if  you'd  been  born 
in  that  station  o'  life." 

"  Yes,  I  des-say  I  should  ha'  managed  to  pick  up  a  respectable 
livin',"  replied  Sam,  applying  himself  to  the  cold  beef,  with  considerable 
vigour. 

"  I'm  wery  sorry,  Sammy",  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  shaking  up  the 
ale,  by  describing  small  circles  with  the  pot,  preparatory  to  drinking. 
**  I'm  wery  sorry,  Sammy,  to  hear  from  your  lips,  as  you  let  yourself  be 
gammoned  by  that  'ere  mulberry  man.  I  always  thought,  up  to  three 
days  ago,  that  the  names  of  Veller  and  gammon  could  never  come  into 
contract,  Sammy — never." 

*'  Always  exceptin'  the  case  of  a  wrdder,  of  course, '  said  Sam. 

•♦  Widders,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  slightly  changing  colour. 
"  Widders.  are  'ceptions  to  ev'ry  rule.  I  have  heerd  how  many  ord'nary 
women,  one  widder's  equal  to,  in  pint  o*  comjn'  over  j'ou.  I  think  it's 
five-and-twenty,  but  I  don't  .rightly  know  vether  it  an't  more.'* 

"  Well ;  that's  pretty  well,"  said  Sam. 

"  Besides,"  continued  Mr.  Weller,  not  noticing  the  interruption, 
"  that's  a  wery  different  thing.  You  know  what  the  counsel  said, 
Sammy,  as  defended  the  gen'lem'n  as  beat  his  wife  with  the  poker, 
venever  he  got  jolly.  '  And  arter  all,  my  Lord,'  says  he,  *  it's  a  amia- 
ble weakness.'  So  I  says  respectin'  widders,  Sammy,  and  so  you'll  say, 
ven  you  gets  as  old  as  1  am." 

"  I  ought  to  ha'  knovv'd  better,  I  know,"  said  Sam. 

"  Ought  to  ha'  know'd  better  ! "  repeated  Mr.  Weller,  striking  the 
table  with  his  fist.  "  Ought  to  ha'  know'd  better!  why,  I  know  a 
young  'un  as  hasn't  had  half  nor  quarter  your  eddication— a$  hasn't 


238  POSTHUMOUS  i>APERS    OF 

slept  about  the  markets,  no,  not  six  months — who'd  ha'  scorned  to  be 
let  in,  in  such  a  vay ;  scorned  it,  Sammy,"  In  the  excitement  of  feel- 
ing- produced  by  this  agonising-  reflection,  Mr.  Weller  rang  the  bell,  and 
ordered  an  additional  pint  of  ale. 

"  Well,  it's  no  use  talking  about  it  now,"  said  Sam.  ''  It's  over,  and 
can't  be  helped,  and  that's  one  consolation,  as  they  alvays  says  in  Tur- 
key, ven  they  cuts  the  wrong  man's  head  ofi*.  It's  my  innings  now, 
gov'rnor,  and  as  soon  as  I  catches  hold  o*  this  here  Trotter,  I'll 
have  a  good  'un." 

"  I  hope  you  will,  Sammy.  I  hope  you  will,"  returned  Mr.  Weller. 
*'  Here's  your  health,  Sammy,  and  may  you  speedily  vipe  oif  the  dis- 
grace as  you've  inflicted  on  the  family  name."  In  honour  of  this  toast 
Mr.  Weller  imbibed  at  a  draught,  at  least  two-thirds  of  the  newly- 
arrived  pint,  and  handed  it  over  to  his  son,  to  dispose  of  the  remainder, 
which  he  instantaneously  did. 

"  And  now,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  consulting  the  large  double- 
cased  silver  watch  that  hung  at  the  end  of  the  copper  chain.  "  Now 
it's  time  I  was  up  at  the  office  to  get  my  vay-bill,  and  see  the  coach 
loaded ;  for  coaches,  Sammy,  is  like  guns — they  requires  to  be  loaded 
with  wery  great  care  afore  they  go  off." 

At  this  parental  and  professional  joke,  Mr.  Weller  junior  smiled  a 
filial  smile.     His  revered  parent  continued  in  a  solemn  tone — 

"  I'm  a  goin'  to  leave  you,  Samivel  my  boy,  and  there's  no  telling 
ven  I  shall  see  you  again.  Your  mother-in-law  may  ha'  been  too  much 
for  me,  or  a  thousand  things  may  have  happened  by  the  time  you  next 
hears  any  news  o'  the  celebrated  Mr.  Veller  o'  the  Bell  Savage.  The 
family  name  depends  wery  much  upon  you,  Samivel,  and  I  hope  you'll 
do  wot's  right  by  it.  Upon  all  little  pints  o'  breedin',  I  know  I  may 
trust  you  as  veil  as  if  it  was  my  own  self.  So  I've  only  this  here  one 
little  bit  of  adwice  to  give  you.  If  ever  you  gets  to  up'ards  o'  fifty,  and 
feels  disposed  to  go  a  marryin'  anybody — no  matter  who — jist  you 
shut  yourself  up  in  your  own  room,  if  you've  got  one,  and  pison 
yourself  off"  hand.  Hangin's  wulgar,  so  don't  you  have  nothin*  to  say 
to  that.  Pison  yourself,  Samivel  my  boy,  pison  yourself,  and  you'll 
be  glad  on  it  arterwards."  With  these  affecting  words,  Mr.  Weller 
looked  stedfastly  on  his  son,  and  turning  slowly  upon  his  heel,  disap- 
peared from  his  sight. 

In  the  contemplative  mood  which  these  words  had  avvakened,  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller  walked  forth  from  the  Great  White  Horse  when  his 
father  had  left  him ;  and  bending  his  steps  towards  Saint  Clement's 
Church,  endeavoured  to  dissipate  his  melancholy,  by  strolling  among 
its  ancient  precincts.  He  had  loitered  about,  for  some  time,  when  he 
found  himself  in  a  retired  spot — a  kind  of  court-yard  of  venerable  ap- 
pearance— which  he  discovered  had  no  other  outlet  than  the  turning  by 
which  he  had  entered.  He  was  about  retracing  his  steps,  when  he  was 
suddenly  transfixed  to  the  spot  by  a  suddon  appearance;  and  the  mode 
and  manner  of  this  appearance,  we  now  proceed  to  relate. 

Mr.  Samuel  W^eller  had  been  staring  up,  at  the  old  red  brick  houses  ; 
now  and  then,  in  his  deep  abstraction,  bestowing  a  wink  upon  some 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  2J)9 

healthy-looking^  servant  girl  as  she  drew  up  a  hlind,  or  threw  open  a 
l)ed-roora  window,  when  the  green  gate  of  a  garden  at  the  hottom  of  the 
yard,  opened,  and  a  man  having  emerged  therefrom,  closed  the  green 
gate  very  carefully  after  him,  and  walked  briskly  towards  the  very  spot 
where  Mr.  Weller  was  standing. 

Now  taking  this,  as  an  isolated  fact,  unaccompanied  by  any  attendant 
circumstances,  there  was  nothing  very  extraordinary  in  it,  because  in 
many  parts  of  the  world,  men  do  come  out  of  gardens,  close  green  gates 
after  them,  and  even  walk  briskly  away,  without  attracting  any  parti- 
cular share  of  public  observation.  It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  there  must 
have  been  something  in  the  man,  or  in  his  manner,  or  both,  to  attract 
Mr.  Weller's  particular  notice.  Whether  there  was,  or  not,  we  must 
leave  the  reader  to  determine,  when  we  have  faithfully  recounted  the 
behaviour  of  the  individual  in  question. 

When  the  man  had  shut  the  green  gate  after  him,  he  walked,  as  we 
have  said  twice  already,  with  a  brisk  pace  up  the  court-yard ;  but  he  no 
sooner  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Weller,  than  he  faltered,  and  stopped,  as 
if  uncertain  for  the  moment  what  course  to  adopt.  As  the  green  gate 
was  closed  behind  him,  and  there  was  no  other  outlet  but  the  one  in 
front,  however,  he  was  not  long  in  perceiving  that  he  must  pass  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller  to  get  away.  He  therefore  resumed  his  brisk  pace,  and 
advanced,  staring  straight  before  him.  The  most  extraordinary  thing 
about  the  man  was,  that  he  was  contorting  his  face  into  the  most  fear- 
ful and  astonishing  grimaces  that  ever  were  beheld.  Nature's  handy- 
work  never  was  disguised  with  such  extraordinary  artificial  carving,  as 
the  man  had  overlaid  his  countenance  with,  in  one  moment. 

'*  Well,"  —  said  Mr.  Weller  to  himself,  as  the  man  approached. 
"  This  is  wery  odd.     I  could  ha'  swore  it  was  him." 

Up  came  the  man,  and  his  face  became  more  frightfully  distorted 
than  ever,  as  he  drew  nearer. 

•'  I  could  take  my  oath  to  that  'ere  black  hair,  and  mulberry  suit," 
said  Mr.  Weller;  "  only  I  never  see  such  a  face  as  that,  afore." 

As  Mr.  Weller  said  this,  the  man's  features  assumed  an  unearthly 
twinge,  perfectly  hideous.  He  was  obliged  to  pass  very  near  Sara 
however,  and  the  scrutinising  glance  of  that  gentleman  enabled  him  to 
detect,  under  all  these  appalling  twists  of  feature,  something  too  like 
the  small  eyes  of  Mr.  Job  Trotter,  to  be  easily  mistaken. 

"  Hallo,  you  Sir,"  shouted  Sam,  fiercely. 

The  stranger  stopped. 

"  Hallo,"  repeated  Sam,  still  more  gruffly. 

The  man  with  the  horrible  face,  looked,  with  the  greatest  surprise,  up 
the  court,  and  down  the  court,  and  in  at  the  windows  of  the  houses — 
everywhere  but  at  Sam  Weller — and  took  another  step  forward,  when 
he  was  brought  to  again,  by  another  shout. 

"  Hallo,  you  Sir," — said  Sam,  for  the  third  time. 

There  was  no  pretending  to  mistake  where  the  voice  came  from 
now,  so  the  stranger,  having  no  other  resource,  at  last  looked  Sam 
Weller  full  in  the  face. 

'*  It  won't  do,  Job  Trotter,"  said  Sara.     "  Corae,  none  o'  that  'ere 


'240  "OSTHUNfOUS    PAPERS    OF 

nonsense.  Yon  ain't'  so  vvery  'ansome  that  you  can  afford  to  throw 
avay  many  o'  your  good  looks.  Bring-  them  'ere  eyes  o'  your'n  back 
into  their  proper  places,  or  I'll  knock  'em  out  of  your  head.  Dy'e 
hear  ?  " 

As  Mr.  Weller  appeared  fully  disposed  to  act  up  to  the  spirit  of  this 
address,  Mr.  Trotter  gradually  allowed  his  face  to  resume  its  natural 
expression  ;  and  then  giving  a  start  of  joy,  exclaimed,  '^  What  do  I 
see  ?     Mr.  Walker  ! " 

''Ah,"  replied  Sam—"  You're  wery  glad  to  see  me,  ain't  you?" 
"Glad!"  exclaimed  Job  Trotter—"  Oh,  Mr.  Walker,  if  you  had 
but  known  how  I  have  looked  forward  to  this  meeting !  It  is  too 
much,  Mr.  Walker ;  I  cannot  bear  it,  indeed  I  cannot."  And  with 
these  words,  Mr.  Trotter  burst  into  a  regular  inundation  of  tears,  and, 
flinging  his  arms  round  those  of  Mr.  Weller,  embraced  him  closely,  in 
an  ecstacy  of  joy. 

"  Get  off,"  cried  Sam,  highly  indignant  at  this  process,  and  vainly 
endeavouring  to  extricate  himself  from  the  grasp  of  his  enthusiastic 
acquaintance — "  Get  off,  I  tell  you.  What  are  you  crying  over  me  for, 
you  portable  ingine?" 

"  Because  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  replied  Job  Trotter,  gradually 
releasing  Mr.  Weller,  as  the  first  symptoms  of  his  pugnacity  disappeared. 
*'  Oh,  Mr.  Walker,  this  is  too  much." 

"  Too  much  !"  echoed  Sam,  "  I  think  it  is  too  much — rayther.  Now 
what  have  you  got  to  say  to  me,  eh  ?  " 

Mr.  Trotter  made  no  reply ;  for  the  little  pink  pocket  handkerchief 
was  in  full  force. 

"  What  have  you  got  to  say  to  me,  afore  I  knock  your  head  off? 
repeated  Mr.  Vv^eller,  in  a  threatening  manner. 

"  Eh  !"  said  Mr.  Trotter,  with  a  look  of  virtuous  surprise. 
'*  What  have  you  got  to  say  to  me?" 
«  I,  Mr.  W'alker!" 

"  Don't  call  me  Valker ;  my  name's  Veller ;  you  know  that  veil 
enough.     What  have  you  got  to  say  to  me?" 

"  Bless  you,  Mr.  Walker — W^eller  I  mean — a  great  many  things,  if 
you  will  come  away  somewhere,  vv'he"e  we  can  talk  comfortably.    If  you 
knew  how  I  have  looked  for  you,  Mr.  Weller — " 
"  Wery  hard,  indeed,  Is'pose?"  said  Sam,  drily. 
"  Very,  very.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Trotter,  without  moving  a  muscle  of 
his  face.     '*  But  shake  hands,  Mr.  Weller." 

Sam  eyed  his  companion  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then,  as  if  actuated  by 
d  sudden  impulse,  complied  with  his  request. 

"  How,"  said  Job  Trotter,  as  they  walked  away — "  How  is  your  dear, 
good  master?  Oh,  he  is  a  worthy  gentleman,  Mr.  Weller.  I  hope  he 
didn't  catch  cold,  that  dreadful  night,  Sir." 

There  was  a  momentary  look  of  deep  slyness  in  Job  Trotter's  eye, 
as  he  said  this,  which  ran  a  thrill  through  Mr.  Weller's  clenched  fist 
as  he  burnt  with  a  desire  to  make  a  demonstration  on  his  ribs.  Sam 
constrained  himself,  however,  and  replied  that  his  master  was  extremely 
well. 


THE    PICKWICK    Cl.UB.  '24 1 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad,"  replied  Mr.  Trotter.   "  is  he  here?" 

•'  Is  your'n  ?"  asked  Sam,  by  way  of  reply. 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  is  here,  and  I  grieve  to  say,  Mr.  Weller,  he  is  going 
on,  worse  than  ever." 

"Ah,  ah?"  said  Sara. 

"  Oh,  shocking — terrible." 

"  At  a  boarding-school  ?  "  said  Sam. 

"  No,  not  at  a  boarding-school,"  replied  Job  Trotter,  with  the  same 
sly  look  which  Sam  had  noticed  before — "  Not  at  a  boarding-school." 

"At  the  house  with  the  green  gate?"  inquired  Sam,  eyeing  hi« 
companion  closely. 

«  No,  no — oh,  not  there,"  replied  Job,  with  a  quickness  very  unusual 
to  him,  "  not  there.*' 

"  What  was  you  a  doin'  there  ?  "  asked  Sam,  with  a  sharp  glance — 
"  Got  inside  the  gate  by  accident,  perhaps  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Weller,"  replied  Job,  "  I  don't  mind  telling  you  my 
little  secrets,  because  you  know  we  took  such  a  fancy  for  each  other 
when  we  first  met.  You  recollect  how  pleasant  we  were  that 
morning  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Sam,  impatiently — "  I  remember.   W^ell." 

•*  Well,"  replied  Job,  speaking  with  great  precision,  and  in  the  low 
tone  of  a  man  who  communicates  an  important  secret — "  In  that  house 
with  the  green  gate,  Mr.  Weller,  they  keep  a  good  many  servants." 

"  So  I  should  think,  from  the  look  on  it,"  interposed  Sam. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Mr.  Trotter,  "  and  one  of  them  is  a  cook,  who 
has  saved  up  a  little  money,  Mr.  Weller,  and  is  desirous,  if  she  can 
establish  herself  in  life,  to  open  a  little  shop  in  the  chandlery  way, 
you  see." 

"  Yes." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Weller.  Well,  Sir,  I  met  her  at  a  chapel  that  I  go  to— 
a  very  neat  little  chapel  in  this  town,  Mr.  Weller,  where  they  sing  the 
number  four  collection  of  hymns,  which  I  generally  carry  about  with 
me,  in  a  little  book,  which  you  may  perhaps  have  seen  in  my  hand — 
and  I  got  a  little  intimate  with  her,  Mr.  Weller,  and  from  that,  an 
acquaintance  sprung  up  between  us,  and  I  may  venture  to  say,  Mr, 
Weller,  that  I  am  to  be  the  chandler." 

"  Ah,  and  a  wery  amiable  chandler  you'll  make,"  replied  Sam,  eye- 
ing Job  with  a  side  look  of  intense  dislike. 

"  The  great  advantage  of  this,  Mr.  Weller,"  continued  Job,  his  eyes 
filling  with  tears  as  he  spoke,  "  will  be,  that  I  shall  be  able  to  leave 
my  present  disgraceful  service  with  that  bad  man,  and  to  devote  myself 
to  a  better  and  more  virtuous  life — more  like  the  way  in  which  I  was 
brought  up,  Mr.  Weller." 

"  You  must  ha'  been  wery  nicely  brought  up,"  said  Sam. 

"  Oh,  very,  Mr.  Weller,  very,"  replied  Job ;  and  at  the  recollection 
of  the  purity  of  his  youthful  days,  Mr.  Trotter  pulled  forth  the  pink 
handkerchief,  and  wept  copiously. 

"You  must  ha'  been  an  uncommon  nice  boy,  to  go  to  school  vith," 
said  Sam. 


242  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

''  I  was  Sir,"  replied  Job,  heaving  a  deep  sigh.  "  I  was  the  idol  of 
the  place." 

"  Ah,"  said  Sam  "  1  don't  wonder  at  it.  What  a  comfort  you  must 
ha'  been  to  your  blessed  mother." 

At  these  words,  Mr.  Job  Trotter  inserted  an  end  of  the  pink 
handkerchief  into  the  corner  of  each  eye,  one  after  the  other,  and  begun 
to  weep  copiously. 

"  Vhat's  the  matter  vith  the  man,"  said  Sam  indignantly.  "  Chelsea 
waterworks  is  nothin'  to  you.  What  are  you  melting  vith  now — the 
consciousness  o*  willainy  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  keep  my  feelings  down,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Job,  after  a 
short  pause.  "  To  think  that  my  master  should  have  suspected  the 
conversation  I  had  with  yours,  and  so  dragged  me  away  in  a  post-chaise, 
and  after  persuading  the  sweet  young  lady  to  say  she  knew  nothing  of 
him,  and  bribing  the  school-mistress  to  do  the  same,  deserted  her  for  a 
better  speculation, — oh  !  Mr.  Weller,  it  makes  me  shudder." 

"  Oh,  that  was  the  vay,  was  it  ?"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

*'  To  be  sure  it  was,"  replied  Job. 

"  Veil,''  said  Sam,  as  they  had  now  arrived  near  the  Hotel,  "  I  vant 
to  have  a  little  bit  o'  talk  with  you.  Job ;  so  if  you're  not  partickler 
engaged,  I  should  like  to  see  you  at  the  Great  White  Horse  to-night, 
somewheres  about  eight  o'clock." 

"  I  shall  be  sure  to  come,"  said  Job. 

«'  Yes,  you'd  better,"  replied  Sam,  with  a  very  meaning  look,  "  or 
else  I  shall  perhaps  be  askin'  arter  you,  at  the  other  side  of  the  green 
gate,   and  then  1  might  cut  you  out,  you  know." 

"I  shall  be  sure  to  be  with  you,"  said  Mr.  Trotter;  and  wringing 
Sam's  hand  with  the  utmost  fervour,  he  walked  away. 

"  Take  care,  Job  Trotter,  take  care,"  said  Sam,  looking  after  him, 
*'  or  I  shall  be  one  too  many  for  you  this  time,  I  shall,  indeed." 
Having  uttered  this  soliloquy,  and  looked  after  Job  till  he  was  to  be 
seen  no  more,  Mr.  Weller  made  the  best  of  his  way  to  his  master's  bed- 
room. 

'•  It's  all  in  training,  Sir,"  said  Sam. 

"  What's  in  training,  Sam  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  have  found  'em  out.  Sir,"  said  Sam. 

"  Found  out  who?" 

"  That  'ere  queer  customer,  and  the  melan-cholly  chap  with  the 
black  hair." 

«  Impossible,  Sam  I "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the  greatest  energy— 
*'  Where  are  they,  Sam;  where  are  they?" 

"  Hush,  hush  ! "  replied  Mr.  Weller ;  and  as  he  assisted  Mr.  Pickwick 
to  dress,  he  detailed  the  plan  of  action  on  which  he  proposed  to  enter. 

"  But  when  is  this  to  be  done,   Sam  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'*  All  in  good  time,  Sir,"  replied  Sam. 

Whether  it  was  done  in  good  time,  or  not,  will  be  seen  hereafter. 


THK   PICKWICK    CLUB.  *24li 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

WHEREIN  MR.  PETER  MAGNUS  GROWS  JEALOUS,  AND  THE  MIDDLE- 
AGED  LADY  APPREHENSIVE,  WHICH  BRINGS  THE  PICKWICKIANS 
WITHIN    THE    GRASP    OF    THE    LAW. 

When  Mr.  Pickwick  descended  to  the  room  in  which  he  and  Mr, 
Peter  Magnus  had  spent  the  preceding  evening,  he  found  that  gentle- 
man with  the  major  part  of  the  contents  of  the  two  bags,  the  leathern 
hat-box,  and  the  brown-paper  parcel,  displayed  to  all  possible  advantage 
on  his  person,  while  he  himself  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  room  in  a 
state  of  the  utmost  excitement  and  agitation. 

"  Good  morning.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus — *'  What  do  you 
think  of  this.  Sir?" 

"  Very  effective  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  surveying  the  gar- 
ments of  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  with  a  good-natured  smile. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  '11  do,"  said  Mr.  Magnus.  "  Mr.  Pickwick,  Sir,  I 
have  sent  up  my  card." 

"  Have  you?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Yes  ;  and  the  waiter  brought  back  word,  that  she  would  see  me  at 
eleven — at  eleven,  Sir;  it  only  wants  a  quarter  now." 

"  Very  near  the  time,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Yes,  it  is  rather  near/'  replied  Mr.  Magnus,  *'  rather  too  near  to 
be  pleasant — eh  I  Mr.  Pickwick,  Sir  ?" 

"  Confidence  is  a  great  thing  in  these  cases,"  observed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  believe  it  is.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus.  "  I  am  very  con- 
fident. Sir.  Really,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  do  not  see  why  a  man  should  feel 
any  fear  in  such  a  case  as  this.  Sir.  What  is  it.  Sir  ?  There's  nothing 
to  be  ashamed  of ;  it's  a  matter  of  mutual  accommodation,  nothing 
more.  Husband  on  one  side,  wife  on  the  other.  That's  my  view  of 
the  matter,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

"  It  is  a  very  philosophical  one,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  But 
breakfast  is  waiting,  Mr.  Magnus.     Come." 

Down  they  sat  to  breakfast,  but  it  was  evident,  notwithstanding  the 
boasting  of  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  that  he  laboured  under  a  very  consider- 
able degree  of  nervousness,  of  which  loss  of  appetite,  a  propensity  to 
upset  the  tea-things,  a  spectral  attempt  at  drollery,  and  an  irresistible 
inclination  to  look  at  the  clock  every  other  second,  were  among  the 
principal  symptoms. 

"  He — he — he,"  tittered  Mr.  Magnus,  affecting  cheerfulness,  and 
gasping  with  agitation.  "  It  only  wants  two  minutes,  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Am  I  pale.  Sir?" 

t"  Not  very,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 
There  was  a  brief  pause. 
"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pickwick ;  but  have  you  ever  done  this 
rt  of  thing  in  your  time  ?"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 


244  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

**  You  mean  proposing-  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Yes." 

"  Never,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great  energy,  "  never." 

"  You  have  no  idea,  then,  how  it's  best  to  begin  ?"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 

"  Why,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  may  have  formed  some  ideas  upon 
the  subject,  but,  as  I  have  never  submitted  them  to  the  test  of  expe- 
rience, I  should  be  sorry  if  you  were  induced  to  regulate  your  proceedings 
by  them." 

"  I  should  feel  very  much  obliged  to  you,  for  any  advice.  Sir,"  said 
Mr.  Magnus,  taking  another  look  at  the  clock,  the  hand  of  which  was 
verging  on  the  five  minutes  past. 

"  Well,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the  profound  solemnity  with 
which  that  great  man  could,  when  he  pleased,  render  his  remarks  so 
deeply  impressive — "  I  should  commence,  Sir,  with  a  tribute  to  the 
lady's  beauty  and  excellent  qualities  ;  from  them,  Sir,  I  should  diverge 
to  my  own  unworthiness." 

**  Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 

"  Unworthiness  for  her  only,  mind.  Sir,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick ; 
"  for  to  shew  that  I  was  not  wholly  unworthy.  Sir,  I  should  take  a  brief 
review  of  my  past  life,  and  present  condition.  I  should  argue,  by  analogy, 
that  to  anybody  else,  I  must  be  a  very  desirable  object.  I  should  then 
expatiate  on  the  warmth  of  my  love,  and  the  depth  of  my  devotion. 
Perhaps  I  might  then  be  tempted  to  seize  her  hand." 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Magnus;  '*that  would  be  a  very  great  point." 

"  I  should  then,  Sir,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  growing  warmer  as 
the  subject  presented  itself  in  more  glowing  colours  before  him — ^**  I 
should  then,  Sir,  come  to  the  plain  and  simple  question,  *  Will  you  have 
me  ?  '  I  think  I  am  justified  in  assuming  that  upon  this,  she  would  turn 
away  her  head." 

"  You  think  that  may  be  taken  for  granted  ? "  said  Mr.  Magnus ; 
"  because,  if  she  did  not  do  that  at  the  right  place,  it  would  be  em- 
barrassing." 

"  I  think  she  would,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Upon  this.  Sir,  I 
should  squeeze  her  hand,  and  I  think — I  think,  Mr.  Magnus — that  after 
I  had  done  that,  supposing  there  was  no  refusal,  I  should  gently  draw 
away  the  handkerchief,  which  my  slight  knowledge  of  human  nature 
leads  me  to  suppose  the  lady  would  be  applying  to  her  eyes  at  the 
moment,  and  steal  a  respectful  kiss.  I  think  I  should  kiss  her,  Mr. 
Magnuft ;  and  at  this  particular  point,  I  am  decidedly  of  opinion  that 
if  the  kdy  were  going  to  take  me  at  all,  sh€  would  murmur  into  my  ears 
a  bashful  acceptance." 

Mr.  Magnus  started :  gazed  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  intelligent  face,  for 
a  short  time  in  silence,  and  then  (the  dial  pointing  to  the  ten 
minutes  past)  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  rushed  desperately 
from  the  room. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  taken  a  few  strides  to  and  fro  ;  and  the  small  hand 
of  the  clock  following  the  latter  part  of  his  example,  had  arrived  at  the 
figure  which  indicates  the  half  hour,  when  the  door  suddenly  opened. 
He  turned  round  to  greet  Mr,  Peter  Magnus,  and  encountered  in  his 


II 


THE    PICKWiCK    CLUB.  245 

stead  the  joyous  face  of  Mr.  Tiipman,  the  serene  coiintenant  e  of  Mr. 
Winkle,  and  the  intellectual  lineaments  of  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  g^reeted  them,  Mr.  Peter  Mag-nus  tripped  into  the 
room. 

"  My  friends,  the  gentleman  I  was  speaking  of,  Mr.  Magnus,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Your  servant,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  evidently  in  a  high 
state  of  excitement ;  "  Mr.  Pickwick,  allow  me  to  speak  to  you,  one 
moment.  Sir." 

As  he  said  this,  Mr.  Magnus  harnessed  his  fore-finger  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's button-hole,  and,  drawing  him  into  a  window  recess,  said — 

"Congratulate  me,  Mr.  Pickwick;  I  followed  your  advice  to  the  very 
letter." 

"  And  it  was  all  correct,  was  it  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  It  was.  Sir — could  not  possibly  have  been  better,"  replied  Mr. 
Magnus ;  "  Mr.  Pickwick,  she  is  mine." 

"  I  congratulate  you,  with  all  my  heart,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
warmly  shaking  his  new  friend  by  the  hand. 

"  You  must  see  her,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Magnus  ;  *'  this  way,  if  you 
please.  Excuse  \i8  for  one  instant,  gentlemen."  And  hurrying  on  in 
this  way,  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  drew  Mr.  Pickwick  from  th6  room.  He 
paused  at  the  next  door  in  the  passage,  and  tapped  gently  thereat. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  female  voice.     And  in  they  went. 

"  Miss  Witherfield,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  "  Allow  me  to  introduce  my 
very  particular  friend,  Mr.  Pickwick.  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  beg  to  make 
you  known  to  Miss  Witherfield." 

The  lady  was  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room,  and  as  Mr.  Pickwick 
bowed,  he  took  his  spectacles  from  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  put  thera 
on,  a  process  which  he  had  no  sooner  gone  through,  than,  uttering  an 
exclamation  of  surprise,  Mr.  Pickwick  retreated  several  paces,  and  the 
lady,  with  a  half-suppressed  scream,  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and 
dropped  into  a  chair,  whereupon  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  was  struck  motion- 
less on  the  spot,  and  gazed  from  one  to  the  other,  with  a  countenance 
expressive  of  the  extremities  of  horror  and  surprise. 

This  certainly  was,  to  all  appearance,  very  unaccountable  behaviour, 
but  the  fact  was,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  no  sooner  put  on  his  spectacles, 
than  he  at  once  recognised  in  the  future  Mrs.  Magnus  the  lady  into 
whose  room  he  had  so  unwarrantably  intruded  on  the  previous  night  ; 
and  the  spectacles  had  no  sooner  crossed  Mr.  Pickwick's  nose,  than  the 
lady  at  once  identified  the  countenance  which  she  had  seen  surrounded 
by  all  the  horrors  of  a  night-cap.  So  the  lady  screamed,  and  Mr.  Pick- 
wick started. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick  ! "  exclaimed   Mr.  Magnus,   lost  in    astonishment, 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this.  Sir?    What  is  the  meaning  of  it,  Sir?" 

added  Mr.  Magnus,  in  a  threatening,  and  a  louder  tone. 

Ih   "  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  somewhat  indignant  at  the  very  sudden 

■^Banner  in  which  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  had  conjugated  himself  into  the 

imperative  mood,  "  I  decline  answering  that  question." 

"  You  decline  it.  Sir  ? "  said  Mr.  Magnus. 

u'2 


246  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  I  do,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  I  object  to  saying  anything- 
wliich  may  compromise  that  lady,  or  awaken  unpleasant  recollections 
in  her  breast,  without  her  consent  and  permission," 

"  Miss  Witherfield,"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  "  do  you  know  this 
person  ?  " 

"  Know  him  I"  repeated  the  middle-aged  lady,  hesitating. 

*'  Yes,  know  him,  Ma'am,  I  said  know  him,"  replied  Mr.  Magnus, 
with  ferocity. 

"  I  have  seen  him,"  replied  the  middle-aged  lady. 

"  Where?"  inquired  Mr.  Magnus,  "  where?" 

"  That,"  said  the  middle-aged  lady,  rising  from  her  seat,  and  averting 
her  head,  '*  that  I  would  not  reveal  for  worlds." 

"  I  understand  you,  Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  and  respect  your 
delicacy ;  it  shall  never  be  revealed  by  me,  depend  upon  it." 

"  Upon  my  word.  Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  "  considering  the 
situation  in  which  I  am  placed  with  regard  to  yourself,  you  carry  this 
matter  off  with  tolerable  coolness — tolerable  coolness,  Ma'am." 

"  Cruel  Mr.  Magnus,"  said  the  middle-aged  lady ;  and  here  she  wept 
very  copiously  indeed. 

"  Address  your  observations  to  me,  Sir,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick  ; 
"  I  alone  ara  to  blame,  if  anybody  be." 

"  Oh  !  you  alone  are  to  blame,  are  you.  Sir  ?  "  said  Mr.  Magnus  ; 
*«  I — I — see  through  this,  Sir.  You  repent  of  your  determination  now, 
do  you  ?  " 

"  My  determination  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Your  determination.  Sir.  Oh  !  don't  stare  at  me,  Sir,"  said  Mr. 
Magnus ;  "  I  recollect  your  words  last  night.  Sir.  You  came  down 
here,  Sir,  to  expose  the  treachery  and  falsehood  of  an  individual  on 
whose  truth  and  honour  you  had  placed  implicit  reliance — eh  ?  "  Here 
Mr.  Peter  Magnus  indulged  in  a  prolonged  sneer ;  and  taking  off  his 
green  spectacles — which  he  probably  found  superfluous  in  his  fit  of 
jealousy — rolled  his  little  eyes  about,  in  a  manner  which  was  frightful 
to  behold. 

"  Eh?"  said  Mr.  Magnus  ;  and  then  he  repeated  the  sneer  with  in- 
creased effect.     "  But  you  shall  answer  it,  Sir." 

"Answer  what  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Never  mind,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Magnus,  striding  up  and  down  the 
room — "  Never  mind." 

There  must  be  something  very  comprehensive  in  this  phrase  of 
"Never  mind,"  for  we  do  not  recollect  to  have  ever  witnessed  a  quarrel 
in  the  street,  at  a  theatre,  public  room,  or  elsewhere,  in  which  it  has  not 
been  the  standard  reply  to  all  belligerent  inquiries.  "  Do  you  call  your- 
self a  gentleman.  Sir?" — "Never  mind,  Sir."  "Did  1  offer  to  say 
anything  to  the  young  woman,  Sir?" — "  Never  mind,  Sir."  "  Do  you 
want  your  head  knocked  up  against  that  wall,  Sir  ?" — "  Never  mind.  Sir." 
It  is  observable,  too,  that  there  would  appear  to  be  some  hidden  taunt 
in  this  universal  "  Never  mind,"  which  rouses  more  indignation  in  the 
bosom  of  the  individual  addressed,  than  the  most  lavish  abuse  could 
possibly  awaken. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  247 


^^  We  do  not  moan  to  assert  that  the  application  of  this  brevity  to 
himself,  struck  exactly  that  indignation  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  soul,  which 
it  would  infallibly  have  roused  in  a  vulg^ar  breast.  We  merely  record 
the  fact  that  Mr.  Pickwick  opened  the  room  door,  and  abruptly  called 
out,  "  Tupman,  come  here." 

Mr.  Tupman  immediately  presented  himself,  with  a  look  of  very 
considerable  surprise. 

"  Tupman,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  a  secret  of  some  delicacy,  in  which 
that  lady  is  concerned,  is  the  cause  of  a  difference  which  has  just  arisen 
between  this  g-entleman  and  myself.  When  I  assure  him,  in  your  pre- 
sence, that  it  has  no  relation  to  himself,  and  is  not  in  any  way  connected 
with  his  affairs,  I  need  hardly  beg^  you  to  take  notice  that  if  he  continues 
to  dispute  it,  he  expresses  a  doubt  of  my  veracity,  which  I  shall  consider 
extremely  insulting  "  As  Mr.  Pickwick  said  this,  he  looked  encyclo- 
paedias at  Mr.  Peter  Magnus. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  upright  and  honourable  bearing,  coupled  with  that 
force  and  energy  of  speech  which  so  eminently  distinguished  him,  would 
have  carried  conviction  to  any  reasonable  mind  ;  but  unfortunately  at 
that  particular  moment,  the  mind  of  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  was  in  any- 
thing but  reasonable  order.  Consequently,  instead  of  receiving  Mr. 
Pickwick's  explanation  as  he  ought  to  have  done,  he  forthwith  pro- 
ceeded to  work  himself  into  a  red-hot  scorching  consuming  passion,  and 
to  talk  about  what  was  due  to  his  own  feelings,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  adding  force  to  his  declamation  by  striding  to  and  fro,  and  pulling 
his  hair,  amusements  which  he  would  vary  occasionally,  by  shaking  his 
fist  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  philanthropic  countenance. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  in  his  turn,  conscious  of  his  own  innocence  and  recti- 
tude, and  irritated  by  having  unfortunately  involved  the  middle-aged 
lady  in  such  an  unpleasant  affair,  was  not  so  quietly  disposed  as  was  his 
wont.  The  consequence  was,  that  words  ran  high,  and  voices  higher, 
and  at  length  Mr.  Magnus  told  Mr.  Pickwick  he  should  hear  from  him, 
to  which  Mr.  Pickwick  replied  with  laudable  politeness,  that  the  sooner 
he  heard  from  him  the  better;  whereupon  the  middle-aged  lady  rushed 
in  terror  from  the  I'oora,  out  of  which  Mr.  Tupman  dragged  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, leaving  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  to  himself  and  meditation. 

If  the  middle-aged  lady  had  mingled  much  with  the  busy  world,  or 
profited  at  all,  by  the  manners  and  customs  of  those  who  make  the 
laws  and  set  the  fashions,  she  would  have  known  that  this  sort  of 
ferocity  is  just  the  most  harmless  thing  in  nature  ;  but  as  she  had  lived 
for  the  most  part  in  the  country,  and  never  read  the  parliamentary 
debates,  she  was  little  versed  in  these  particular  refinements  of  civilised 
life.  Accordingly,  when  she  had  gained  her  bed-chamber,  bolted  herself 
in,  and  begun  to  meditate  on  the  scene  she  had  just  witnessed,  the  most 
terrific  pictures  of  slaughter  and  (destruction  presented  themselves  to 
her  imagination  ;  among  which,  a  full-length  portrait  of  Mr.  Peter 
Magnus  borne  home  by  four  men,  with  the  embellishment  of  a  whole 
barrel-full  of  bullets  in  his  left  side,  was  among  the  very  least.  The 
more  the  middle-aged  lady  meditated,  the  more  terrified  she  became  ; 
and  at  length  she  determined  to  repair  to  the  bouse   of    the    principal 


248  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

magistrate  of  the  town,  and  request  him  to  secure  the  persons  of  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman,  without  delay. 

To  this  decision,  the  middle-aged  lady  was  impelled  by  a  variety  of 
considerations,  the  chief  of  which,  was  the  incontestible  proof  it  would 
afford  of  her  devotion  to  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  and  her  anxiety  for  his 
safety.  She  was  too  well  acquainted  with  his  jealous  temperament  to 
venture  the  slightest  allusion  to  the  real  cause  of  her  agitation  on 
beholding  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  and  she  trusted  to  her  own  influence  and 
power  of  persuasion  with  the  little  man,  to  quell  his  boisterous  jealousy, 
supposing  that  Mr.  Pickwick  were  removed.,  and  no  fresh  quarrel  could 
arise.  Filled  with  these  reflections,  the  middle-aged  lady  arrayed 
herself  in  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  repaired  to  the  Mayor's  dwelling 
straightway. 

**  Now  George  Nupkins,  Esquire,  the  principal  magistrate  aforesaid,  was 
about  as  grand  a  personage  as  the  fastest  walker  would  find  out,  between 
sunrise  and  sunset,  on  the  twenty-first  of  June,  which  being,  according 
to  the  almanacs,  the  longest  day  in  the  whole  year,  would  naturally 
afi^ord  him  the  longest  period  for  his  search.  On  this  particular  morning, 
Mr.  Nupkins  was  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  excitement  and  irritation,  for 
there  had  been  a  rebellion  in  the  town  ;  all  the  day-scholars  at  the 
largest  day-school,  had  conspired  to  break  the  windows  of  an  obnoxious 
apple-seller,  and  had  hooted  the  beadle,  and  pelted  the  constabulary — an 
elderly  gentleman  in  top-boots,  who  had  been  called  out  to  repress  the 
tumult ;  and  had  been  a  peace-officer,  man  and  boy,  for  half  a  century  at 
least.  "And  Mr.  Nupkins  was  sitting  in  his  easy  chair,  frowning  with 
majesty,  and  boiling  with  rage,  when  a  lady  was  announced  on  pressing, 
private,  and  particular  business.  Mr.  Nupkins  looked  calmly  terrible, 
and  commanded  that  the  lady  should  be  shown  in,  which  command, 
like  all  the  mandates  of  emperors,  and  magistrates,  and  other  great 
potentates  of  the  earth,  was  forthwith  obeyed ;  and  Miss  Witherfield, 
interestingly  agitated,  was  ushered  in  accordingly. 

"  Muzzle,"  said  the  Magistrate. 

Muzzle  was  an  under-sized  footman,  with  a  long  body  and  short  legs. 

"  Muzzle." 

"  Yes,  your  worship." 

"  Place  a  chair  and  leave  the  room." 

"  Yes,  your  worship." 

''^  Now,  Ma'am,  will  you  state  your  business  ?  "  said  the  Magistrate. 

"  It  is  of  a  very  painful  kind,  Sir,"  said  Miss  Witherfield. 

"  Very  likely.  Ma'am,"  said  the  Magistrate.  "  Compose  your  feelings, 
Ma'am."  Here  Mr.  Nupkins  looked  benignant.  "  And  then  tell  me 
what  legal  business  brings  you  here,  Ma'am."  Here  the  Magistrate 
triumphed  over  the  man ;  and  he  looked  stern  again. 

*'  It  is  very  distressing  to  me,  Sir,  to  give  this  information,"  said  Miss 
Witherfield, "  but  I  fear  a  duel  is  going  to  be  fought  here." 

"  Here,  Ma'am,"  said  the  Magistrate.     "  Where,  Ma'am  ?" 

"  In  Ipswich." 

"  In  Ipswich,  Ma'am — a  duel  in  Ipswich,"  said  the  Magistrate,  per- 
fectly aghast  at  the  notion.  "  Impossible,  Ma'am  :  nothing  of  the  kind 


THK    PICKWICK    CLUB.  249 

can  l>e  contemplated  in  this  town,  I  am  persuaded.  Bless  my  soul,  Ma'am, 
are  you  aware  of  the  activity  of  our  local  magistracy  ?  Do  you  liappen 
to  have  heard,  Ma'am,  that  I  rushed  into  a  prize-ring  on  the  fourth  of 
May  last,  attended  by  only  sixty  special  constables  ;  and,  at  the  hazard 
of  falling  a  sacrifice  to  the  angry  passions  of  an  infuriated  multitude, 
prohibited  a  pugilistic  contest  between  the  Middlesex  Dumpling,  and 
the  Suffolk  Bantam?  A  duel  in  Ipswich,  Ma'am  !  I  don't  think — I 
do  not  think,"  said  the  Magistrate,  reasoning  with  himself,  '*  that  any 
two  men  can  have  had  the  hardihood  to  plan  such  a  breach  of  the 
peace,  in  this  town." 

*'  My  information  is  unfortunately  but  too  correct,"  said  the  middle- 
aged  lady,  *'  I  was  present  at  the  quarrel." 

"  It's  a  most  extraordinary  thing,"  said  the  astounded  Magis- 
trate.    "  Muzzle." 

"  Yes,  your  worship." 

*•  Send  Mr.  Jinks  here,  directly — instantly." 

"  Yes,  your  worship." 

Muzzle  retired;  and  a  pale,  sharp-nosed,  half-fed,  shabbily-clad  clerk, 
of  middle  age,  entered  the  room. 

"  Mr.  Jinks,"  eaid  the  Magistrate — "  Mr.  Jinks." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Jinks. 

"  This  lady,  Mr.  Jinks,  has  come  here,  to  give  information  of  an 
intended  duel  in  this  town." 

Mr.  Jinks,  not  exactly  knowing  what  to  do,  smiled  a  dependent's  smile. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at,  Mr.  Jinks?  "  said  the  Magistrate. 

Mr.  Jinks  looked  serious,  instantly. 

"  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  Magistrate,  *'  you're  a  fool.  Sir." 

Mr.  Jiuks  looked  humbly  at  the  great  man,  and  bit  the  top  of  his  pen. 

"  You  may  see  something  very  comical  in  this  information.  Sir ;  but 
I  can  tell  you  this,  Mr.  Jinks,  that  you  have  very  little  to  laugh  at," 
said  the  Magistrate. 

The  hungry-looking  Jinks  sighed,  as  if  he  were  quite  aware  of  the 
fact  of  his  having  very  little  indeed,  to  be  merry  about ;  and,  being 
ordered  to  take  the  lady's  information,  shambled  to  a  seat,  and  proceeded 
to  write  it  down. 

"  This  man  Pickwick  is  the  principal,  I  understand,"  said  the  Magis- 
trate, when  the  statement  was  finished. 

"He  is,"  said  the  middle-aged  lady. 

"  And  the  other  rioter — what's  his  name,  Mr.  Jinks  ?  " 

"  Tupman,  Sir." 

"  Tupman  is  the  second  ?  " 

"Yes." 

'*  The  other  principal  you  say,  has  absconded.  Ma'am  ?  '* 

"  Yes,"  replied  Miss  Witherfield,  with  a  short  cough. 

«  Very  well,"  said  the  Magistrate.  "  These  are  two  cut-throats  from 
London,  who  have  come  down  here,  to  destroy  his  Majesty's  population, 
thinking  that  at  this  distance  from  the  capital,  the  arm  of  the  law  is  weak 
and  paralysed.  They  shall  be  made  an  example  of.  Draw  up  the 
warrants,  Mr.  Jinks.     Muzzle." 


250 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


*'  Yes,  youi  worship." 

"  Is  Grummer  down  stairs  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  your  worship/' 

"  Send  him  up." 

The  obsequious  Muzzle  retired,  and  presently  returned,  introducing 
the  elderly  gentleman  in  the  top-boots,  who  was  chiefly  remarkable  for 
a  bottle  nose,  a  hoarse  voice,  a  snuff-coloured  surtout,  and  a  wander- 
ing eye. 

"  Grummer,"  said  the  Magistrate. 

"  Your  wash-up." 

"  Is  the  town  quiet  now  ?  '* 

"  Pretty  well,  your  wash-up,"  replied  Grummer.  *'  Pop'lar  feeling 
has  in  a  measure  subsided,  consekens  o'  the  boys  having  dispersed  to 
cricket." 

*'  Nothing  but  vigorous  measures  will  do,  in  these  times,  Grummer/' 
said  the  Magistrate,  in  a  determined  manner.  "  If  the  authority  of  the 
king's  officers  is  set  at  nought,  we  must  have  the  riot  act  read.  If  the 
civil  power  cannot  protect  these  windows,  Grummer,  the  military  must 
protect  the  civil  power,  and  the  windows  too.  I  believe  that  is  a  maxim 
of  the  constitution,  Mr.  Jinks  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Sir,"  said  Jinks. 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  Magistrate,  signing  the  warrants.  "  Grummer, 
you  will  bring  these  persons  before  me,  this  afternoon.  You  will  find 
them  at  the  Great  White  Horse.  You  recollect  the  case  of  the  Mid- 
dlesex Dumpling  and  the  Suffolk  Bantam,  Grummer?  " 

Mr.  Grummer  intimated,  by  a  retrospective  shake  of  the  head,  that 
he  should  never  forget  it — as  indeed  it  was  not  likely  he  would,  so  long 
as  it  continued  to  be  cited  daily. 

"  This  is  even  more  unconstitutional,"  said  the  Magistrate  ;  "  this  is 
even  a  greater  breach  of  the  peace,  and  a  grosser  infringement  of  his 
Majesty's  prerogative.  I  believe  duelling  is  one  of  His  Majesty's 
most  undoubted  prerogatives,  Mr.  Jinks  ?  " 

"  Expressly  stipulated  in  Magna  Charta,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Jinks. 

"  One  of  the  brightest  jewels  in  the  British  crown,  wrung  from  his 
Majesty  by  the  Political  Union  of  Barons,  I  believe,  Mr.  Jinks  ?  "  said 
the  Magistrate. 

"  Just  so,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Jinks. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  Magistrate,  drawing  himself  up  proudly,  "  it 
shall  not  be  violated  in  this  portion  of  his  dominions.  Grummer,  pro- 
cure assistance,  and  execute  these  warrants  with  as  little  delay  as  possible. 
Muzzle." 

"  Yes,  your  worship." 
"  Show  the  lady  out." 

Miss  Witherfield  retired,  deeply  impressed  with  the  Magistrate's 
learning  and  research  ;  Mr.  Nupkins  retired  to  lunch  ;  Mr.  Jinks  retired 
within  himself— that  being  the  only  retirement  he  had,  except  the  sofa- 
bedstead  in  the  small  parlour  which  was  occupied  by  his  landlady's 
family  in  the  day-time — and  Mr.  Grummer  retired,  to  wash  out,  by  his 
mode  of  discharging  his  present  commission,  the  insult  which  had  been 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  251 

fastened  upon  himself,  and  the  other  representative  of  His  Majesty — 
the  beadle — in  the  course  of  the  morning-. 

While  these  resolute  and  determined  preparations  for  the  conservation 
of  the  King's  peace,  were  pending-,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends,  wholly 
unconscious  of  the  mighty  events  in  progress,  had  sat  quietly  down  to 
dinner ;  and  very  talkative  and  companionable  they  all  were ;  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  in  the  very  act  of  relating  his  adventure  of  the  preceding- 
night,  to  the  great  amusement  of  his  followers,  Mr.  Tupman  especially, 
when  the  door  opened,  and  a  somewhat  forbidding  countenance  peeped 
into  the  room.  The  eyes  in  the  forbidding  countenance  looked  very 
earnestly  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  for  several  seconds,  and  were  to  all  appear- 
ance satisfied  with  their  investigation  ;  for  the  body  to  which  the  forbid- 
ding countenance  belonged,  slowly  brought  itself  into  the  apartment, 
and  presented  the  form  of  an  elderly  individual  in  top-boots — not  to 
keep  the  reader  any  longer  in  suspense,  in  short,  the  eyes  were  the 
wandering  eyes  of  Mr.  Grummer,  and  the  body  was  the  body  of  the 
same  gentleman. 

Mr.  Grumraer's  mode  of  proceeding  was  professional,  but  peculiar. 
His  first  act  was  to  bolt  the  door  on  the  inside  ;  his  second,  to  polish  his 
head  and  countenance  very  carefully  with  a  cotton  handkerchief;  his 
third,  to  place  his  hat,  with  the  cotton  handkerchief  in  it,  on  the  nearest 
chair ;  and  his  fourth  to  produce  from  the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat,  a 
short  truncheon  surmounted  by  a  brazen  crown,  with  which  he  beckoned 
to  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  grave  and  ghost-like  air. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  was  the  first  to  break  the  astonished  silence.  He 
looked  steadily  at  Mr.  Grummer  for  a  brief  space,  and  then  said  empha- 
tically— '*  This  is  a  private  room.  Sir — a  private  room." 

Mr.  Grummer  shook  his  head,  and  replied — "  No  room's  private  to 
His  Majesty  when  the  street  door's  once  passed.  That's  law.  Some 
people  maintains  that  an  Englishman's  house  is  his  castle.  That's 
gammon." 

The  Pickwickians  gazed  on  each  other,  with  wondering  eyes. 

"  Which  is  Mr.  Tupman  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Grummer.  He  had  an 
intuitive  perception  of  Mr.  Pickwick ;  he  knew  him  at  once. 

"  My  name's  Tupman,"  said  that  gentleman. 

"  My  name's  Law,"  said  Mr.  Grummer. 

«  What  ?  "  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Law,"  replied  Mr.  Grummer,  "law,  civil  power,  and  exekative; 
them's  my  titles ;  here's  my  authority.  Blank  Tupman,  blank  Pick- 
vick — against  the  peace  of  our  sufferin  Lord  the  King — stattit  in  that 
case  made  and  purwided — and  all  regular.  I  apprehend  you  Pickvick, 
Tupman — the  aforesaid." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  this  insolence  ?  "  said  Mr.  Tupman,  starting 
up — "  Leave  the  room,  leave  the  room." 

"  Halloo,"  said  Mr.  Grummer,  retreating  very  expeditiouslv  to  the 
door,  and  opening  it  an  inch  or  two,  "  Dubbley." 

"  Well,"  said  a  deep  voice  from  the  passage. 

"  Come  for'ard,  Dubbley,"  said  Mr.  Grummer. 

At  the  word  of  command,  a  dirty-faced  man,  something  over  six  feet 


252  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

high,  and  stout  in  proportion,  squeezed  himseif  through  the  half-open 
door,  making  his  face  very  red  in  the  process,  and  entered  the  room. 

"  Is  the  other  specials  outside,  Dubbley  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Grummer, 

Mr.  Dubbley,  who  was  a  man  of  few  words,  nodded  assent. 

"  Order  in  the  diwision  under  your  charge,  Dubbley,"  said  Mr. 
Grummer. 

Mr.  Dubbley  did  as  he  was  desired  ;  and  half  a  dozen  men,  each  with  a 
short  truncheon  and  a  brass  crown,  flocked  into  the  room.  Mr.  Grum- 
mer pocketed  his  staff  and  looked  at  Mr.  Dubbley,  Mr.  Dubbley  pock- 
eted his  staff  and  looked  at  the  division  ;  and  the  division  pocketed 
their  staves  and  looked  at  Messrs.  Tupman  and  Pickv/ick. 

Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  followers,  rose  as  one  man. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  atrocious  intrusion  upon  my  privacy  ?" 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Who  dares  apprehend  me  ?  "  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  What  do  you  want  here,  scoundrels  ?  "  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

Mr.  Winkle  said  nothing,  but  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  Grummer,  and 
bestowed  a  look  upon  him,  which,  if  he  had  had  any  feeling,  must 
have  pierced  his  brain,  and  come  out  on  the  other  side.  As  it  was, 
however,  it  had  no  visible  effect  upon  him  whatever. 

When  the  executive  perceived  that  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends 
were  disposed  to  resist  the  authority  of  the  law,  they  very  significantly 
turned  up  their  coat  sleeves,  as  if  knocking  them  down  in  the  first 
instance,  and  taking  them  up  afterwards,  were  a  mere  professional  act 
which  had  only  to  be  thought  of,  to  be  done,  as  a  matter  of  course.  This 
demonstration  was  not  lost  upon  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  conferred  a  few 
moments  with  Mr.  Tupman  apart,  and  then  signified  his  readiness  to 
proceed  to  the  Mayor's  residence,  merely  begging  the  parties  then  and 
there  assembled,  to  take  notice,  that  it  was  his  firm  intention  to  resent 
this  monstrous  invasion  of  his  privileges  as  an  Englishman,  the  instant 
he  was  at  liberty,  whereat  the  parties  then  and  there  assembled,  laughed 
very  heartily,  with  the  single  exception  of  Mr.  Grummer,  who  seemed 
to  consider  that  any  slight  cast  upon  the  divine  right  of  Magistrates, 
was  a  species  of  blasphemy,  not  to  be  tolerated. 

But  when  Mr.  Pickwick  had  signified  his  readiness  to  bow  to  the  laws 
of  his  country,  and  just  when  the  waiters,  and  hostlers,  and  chamber- 
maids, and  post-boys,  who  had  anticipated  a  delightful  commotion  from 
his  threatened  obstinacy,  began  to  turn  away,  disappointed  and  disgusted, 
a  difficulty  arose  which  had  not  been  foreseen.  With  every  sentiment 
of  veneration  for  the  constituted  authorities,  Mr.  Pickwick  resolutely 
protested  against  making  his  appearance  in  the  public  streets,  surrounded 
and  guarded  by  the  officers  of  justice,  like  a  common  criminal.  Mr. 
Grummer,  in  the  then  disturbed  state  of  public  feeling  (for  it  was  half- 
holiday,  and  the  boys  had  not  yet  gone  home),  as  resolutely  protested 
against  walking  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way,  and  taking  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's parole  that  he  would  go  straight  to  the  Magistrate's  ;  and  both  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman  as  strenuously  objected  to  the  expense  of  a 
post-coach,  which  was  the  only  respectable  conveyance  that  could  be 
obtained.     The  dispute  ran  high,  and  the  dilemma  lasted  long ;  and  just 


THE    PICKWICn    CLUB.  253 

as  the  executive  were  on  the  point  of  overcoming  Mr.  Pickwick's  objec- 
tion to  walking  to  the  Magistrate's,  by  the  trite  expedient  of  carrying 
him  thither,  it  was  recollected  that  there  stood  in  the  inn  yard,  an  old 
sedan  chair,  which  having  been  originally  built  for  a  gouty  gentleman 
with  funded  property,  would  hold  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman,  at 
least  as  conveniently  as  a  modern  post-chaise.  The  chair  was  hired,  and 
brought  into  the  hall ;  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman  squeezed  them- 
selves inside,  and  pulled  down  the  blinds;  a  couple  of  chairmen  were 
speedily  found,  and  the  procession  started  in  grand  order.  The  specials 
surrounded  the  body  of  the  vehicle,  Mr.  Grummer  and  Mr.  Dubbley 
marched  triumphantly  in  front,  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  walked 
arm  in  arm  behind,  and  the  unsoaped  of  Ipswich  brought  up  the  rear. 

The  shopkeepers  of  the  town,  although  they  had  a  very  indistinct 
notion  of  the  nature  of  the  offence,  could  not  but  be  much  edified  and 
gratified  by  this  spectacle.  Here  was  the  strong  arm  of  the  law,  coming 
down  with  twenty  gold-beater  force,  upon  two  offenders  from  the  metro- 
polis itself;  the  mighty  engine  was  directed  by  their  own  Magistrate,  and 
worked  by  their  own  officers ;  and  both  the  criminals  by  their  united 
efforts,  were  securely  boxed  up,  in  the  narrow  compass  of  one  sedan- 
chair.  Many  were  the  expressions  of  approval  and  admiration  which 
greeted  Mr.  Grummer,  as  he  headed  the  cavalcade,  staff  in  hand ;  loud 
and  long  were  the  shouts  which  were  raised  by  the  unsoaped ;  and 
amidst  these  united  testimonials  of  public  approbation,  the  procession 
moved  slowly  and  majestically  along. 

Mr.  Weller,  habited  in  his  morning  jacket  with  the  black  calico 
sleeves,  was  returning  in  a  rather  desponding  state  from  an  unsuccessful 
survey  of  the  mysterious  house  with  the  green  gate,  when,  raising  his 
eyes,  he  beheld  a  crowd  pouring  down  the  street,  surrounding  an  object 
which  had  very  much  the  appearance  of  a  sedan-chair.  Willing  to  divert 
his  thoughts  from  the  failure  of  his  enterprise,  he  stepped  aside  to  see 
the  crowd  pass ;  and  finding  that  they  were  cheering  away,  very  much 
to  their  own  satisfaction,  forthwith  began  (just  by  way  of  raising  his 
spirits)  to  cheer  too,  with  all  his  might  and  main. 

Mr.  Grummer  passed,  and  Mr.  Dubbley  passed,  and  the  sedan  passed, 
and  the  body-guard  of  specials  passed,  and  Sam  was  still  responding  to 
the  enthusiastic  cheers  of  the  mob,  and  waving  his  hat  about  as  if  he 
were  in  the  very  last  extreme  of  the  wildest  joy  (though  of  course  he  had 
not  the  faintest  idea  of  the  matter  in  hand),  when  he  was  suddenly  stopped 
by  the  unexpected  appearance  of  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  What's  the  row,  genl'm'n  ? "  cried  Sam,  "  Who  have  they  got  in 
this  here  watch-box  in  mournin'  ?  " 

Both  gentlemen  repHed  together,  but  their  words  were  lost  in  the 
tumult. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  roared  Sam  again. 

Once  more  was  a  joint  reply  returned;  and  though  the  words  were 
inaudible,  Sam  saw  by  the  motion  of  the  two  pairs  of  lips  that  they  had 
uttered  the  magic  word  "  Pickwick." 

This  was  enough.  In  another  minute  Mr.  Weller  had  made  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  stopped  the  chairmen,  and  confronted  the  portly 
Grummer. 


254 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    C? 


"  Hallo,  old  genl'm*!!,"  said  Sam,  "  Who  have  you  got  in  this  here 
con-wayance  ?  " 

"  Stand  back,"  said  Mr.  Grummer,  whose  dig-nity,  like  the  dignity 
of  a  great  many  other  men,  had  been  wondrously  augmented  by  a  little 
popularity. 

"  Knock  him  down,  if  he  don't,"  said  Mr.  Dubbley. 

"  I'm  wery  much  obliged  to  you,  old  genl'm'n,"  replied  Sam,  "  for 
consulting  my  conwenience,  and  I'm  still  more  obliged  to  the  other 
genl'ra'n  who  looks  as  if  he'd  just  escaped  from  a  giant's  carrywan,  for 
his  wery  'ansome  suggestion  ;  but  I  should  perfer  your  givin'  me  a 
answer  to  my  question,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you.  How  are  you, 
Sir  ?  "  This  last  observation  was  addressed  with  a  patronising  air  to 
Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  peeping  through  the  front  window. 

Mr.  Grummer,  perfectly  speechless  with  indignation,  dragged  the 
truncheon  with  the  brass  crown,  from  its  particular  pocket,  and  flourished 
it  before  Sam's  eyes. 

"  Ah,"  said  Sam,  "  it's  wery  pretty,  'specially  the  crown,  which  is 
uncommon  like  the  real  one." 

"  Stand  back,"  said  the  outraged  Mr.  Grummer.  By  way  of  adding 
force  to  the  command,  he  thrust  the  brass  emblem  of  royalty  into  Sam's 
neckcloth  with  one  hand,  and  seized  Sam's  collar  with  the  other,  a 
compliment  which  Mr.  Weller  returned  by  knocking  him  down  out  of 
hand,  having  previously,  with  the  utmost  consideration,  knocked  down 
a  chairman  for  him  to  lie  upon. 

Whether  Mr.  Winkle  was  seized  with  a  temporary  attack  of  that 
species  of  insanity  which  originates  in  a  sense  of  injury,  or  animated 
by  this  display  of  Mr.  Weller's  valour,  is  uncertain  ;  but  certain  it  is, 
that  he  no  sooner  saw  Mr.  Grummer  fall,  than  he  made  a  terrific 
onslaught  on  a  small  boy  who  stood  next  him  ;  whereupon  Mr.  Snod- 
grass,  in  a  truly  christian  spirit,  and  in  order  that  he  might  take  no  one 
unawares,  announced  in  a  very  loud  tone  that  he  was  going  to  begin, 
and  proceeded  to  take  off  his  coat  with  the  utmost  deliberation.  He 
was  immediately  surrounded  and  secured ;  and  it  is  but  common  justice 
both  to  him  and  Mr.  Winkle  to  say,  that  they  did  not  make  the  slightest 
attempt  to  rescue  either  themselves  or  Mr.  Weller,  who,  after  a  most 
vigorous  resistance,  was  overpowered  by  numbers,  and  taken  prisoner. 
The  procession  then  re-formed,  the  chairmen  resumed  their  stations, 
and  the  march  was  re-commenced. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  indignation  during  the  whole  of  this  proceeding  was 
beyond  all  bounds.  He  could  just  see  Sam  upsetting  the  specials,  and 
flying  about,  in  every  direction,  and  that  was  all  he  could  see,  for  the 
sedan  doors  wouldn't  open,  and  the  blinds  wouldn't  pull  up.  At  length, 
with  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Tupman,  he  managed  to  push  open  the  roof; 
and  mounting  on  the  seat,  and  steadying  himself  as  well  as  he  could, 
by  placing  his  hand  on  that  gentleman's  shoulder,  Mr.  Pickwick  pro- 
ceeded to  address  the  multitude  ;  to  dwell  upon  the  unjustifiable  manner 
in  which  he  had  been  treated  ;  and  to  call  upon  them  to  take  notice  that 
his  servant  had  been  first  assaulted.  And  in  this  order  they  reached 
the  Magistrate's  house  ;  the  chairmen  trotting,  the  prisoners  following] 
Mr.  Pickwick  oratorising,  and  the  crowd  shouting. 


I 


.^^ 


/yfMje  '^'Jl 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  255 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

MOWING,  AMONG  A  VARIETY  OF  PLEASANT  MATTERS,  HOW  MA- 
JESTIC AND  IMPARTIAL  MR.  NUPRINS  WAS  ;  AND  HOW  MR. 
WELLER  RETURNED  MR.  JOB  TROTTER's  SHUTTLECOCK,  AS  HEA- 
VILY AS  IT  CAME.  WITH  ANOTHER  MATTER,  WHICH  WILL  BE 
FOUND    IN    ITS    PLACE. 

Violent  was  Mr.  Weller's  indignation  as  he  was  borne  along-; 
numerous  were  the  allusions  to  the  personal  appearance  and  demeanour 
of  Mr.  Grummer  and  his  companion ;  and  valorous  were  the  defiances 
to  any  six  of  the  gentlemen  present,  in  which  he  vented  his  dissatis- 
faction. Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  listened  with  gloomy  respect 
to  the  torrent  of  eloquence  which  their  leader  poured  forth,  from  the 
sedan  chair,  and  the  rapid  course  of  which,  not  all  Mr.  Tupinan's 
earnest  entreaties  to  have  the  lid  of  the  vehicle  closed,  were  able  to 
check  for  an  instant.  But  Mr.  Weller's  anger  quickly  gave  way  to 
curiosity,  when  the  procession  turned  down  the  identical  court-yard  in 
which  he  had  met  with  the  runaway  Job  Trotter :  and  curiosity  was 
exchanged  for  a  feeling  of  the  most  gleeful  astonishment,  when  the  all- 
important  Mr.  Grummer,  commanding  the  sedan -bearers  to  halt, 
advanced  with  dignified  and  portentous  steps,  to  the  very  green  gate 
from  which  Job  Trotter  had  emerged,  and  gave  a  mighty  pull  at  the 
bell-handle  which  hung  at  the  side  thereof.  The  ring  was  answered  by 
a  very  smart  and  pretty-faced  servant-girl,  who,  after  holding  up  her 
hands  in  astonishment  at  the  rebellious  appearance  of  the  prisoners,  and 
the  impassioned  language  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  summoned  Mr.  Muzzle. 
Mr.  Muzzle  opened  one-half  of  the  carriage  gate,  to  admit  the  sedan, 
the  captured  ones,  and  the  specials ;  and  immediately  slammed  it  in  the 
faces  of  the  mob,  who,  indignant  at  being  excluded,  and  anxious  to  see 
what  followed,  relieved  their  feelings  by  kicking  at  the  gate  and  ringing 
the  bell,  for  an  hour  or  two  afterwards.  In  this  amusement  they  all 
took  part  by  turns,  except  three  or  four  fortunate  individuals,  who 
having  discovered  a  grating  in  the  gate  which  commanded  a  view  of 
nothing,  were  staring  through  it,  with  the  same  indefatigable  perseve- 
rance with  which  people  will  flatten  their  noses  against  the  front 
widows  of  a  chemist's  shop,  when  a  dninken  man,  who  has  been  run 
over  by  a  dog-cart  in  the  street,  is  undergoing  a  surgical  inspection  in 
the  back -parlour. 

At  the  foot  of  a  flight  of  steps,  leading  to  the  house  door,  which  were 
guarded  on  either  side  by  an  American  aloe  in  a  green  tub,  the  sedan- 
chair  stopped ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  were  conducted  into 
the  hall,  from  whence,  having  been  previously  announced  by  Muzzle, 
and  ordered  in  by  Mr.  Nupkins,  they  were  ushered  into  the  worshipful 
presence  of  that  public-spirited  oflBcer. 

The  scene  was  an  impressive  one,  well  calculated  to  strike  terror  to 


256 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


the  hearts  of  culprits,  and  to  impress  them  with  an  adequate  idea  of  the 
stern  majesty  of  the  law.  In  front  of  a  big-  book-case,  in  a  big-  chair, 
behind  a  big  table,  and  before  a  big-  volume,  sat  Mr.  Nupkins,  looking 
a  full  size  larger  than  any  one  of  them,  big  as  they  were.  The  table 
was  adorned  with  piles  of  papers  :  and  above  the  further  end  of  it,  ap- 
peared the  head  and  shoulders  of  Mr.  Jinks,  who  was  busily  eng-aged 
in  looking  as  busy  as  possible.  The  party  having  all  entered,  Muzzle 
carefully  closed  the  door,  and  placed  himself  behind  his  master's  chair 
to  await  his  orders ;  Mr.  Nupkins  threw  himself  back,  with  thrilling 
solemnity,  and  scrutinised  the  faces  of  his  unwilling  visiters. 

"  Now,  Grummer,  who  is  that  person?"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  pointing 
to  Mr.  Pickwick,  who,  as  the  spokesman  of  his  friends,  stood  hat  in 
hand,  bowing  with  the  utmost  politeness  and  respect. 

"  This  here's  Pickvick,  your  wash-up,"  said  Grummer. 

"  Come,  none  o'  that  'ere,  old  Strike-a-light,"  interposed  Mr.  Weller, 
elbowing  himself  into  the  front  rank — "  Beg  your  pardon,  Sir,  but  this 
here  officer  o'  yourn  in  the  gambooge  tops,  'uU  never  earn  a  decent  livin* 
as  a  master  o'  the  ceremonies  any  vere.  This  here,  Sir,"  continued 
Mr.  Weller,  thrusting  Grummer  aside,  and  addressing  the  Magistrate  with 
pleasant  familiarity — "  This  here  is  S.  Pickvick,  Esquire ;  this  here's 
Mr.  Tupman  ;  that  'ere's  Mr.  Snodgrass ;  and  furder  on,  next  him  on 
the  t'other  side,  Mr.  Winkle — ^all  wery  nice  genl'm'n.  Sir,  as  you'll  be 
wery  happy  to  have  the  acquaintance  on  ;  so  the  sooner  you  commits 
these  here  officers  o*  yourn  to  the  tread-mill  for  a  month  or  two,  the 
sooner  we  shall  begin  to  be  on  a  pleasant  understanding.  Business 
first,  pleasure  arterwards,  as  King  Richard  the  Third  said  ven  he  stabbed 
the  t'other  king  in  the  Tower,  afore  he  smothered  the  babbies." 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  address,  Mr.  Weller  brushed  his  hat  with 
his  right  elbow,  and  nodded  benignly  to  Jinks,  who  had  heard  him 
throughout,  with  unspeakable  awe. 

*'  Who  is  this  man,  Grummer  ?  "  said  the  magistrate. 

"  Wery  desp'rate  ch'racter,  your  wash-up,"  replied  Grummer.  "  He 
attempted  to  rescue  the  prisoners,  and  assaulted  the  officers — so  we 
took  him  into  custody,  and  brought  him  here." 

*'  You  did  quite  right,"  replied  the  magistrate.  "  He  is  evidently  a 
desperate  ruffian." 

*'  He  is  my  servant.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  angrily. 

**  Oh  I  he  is  your  servant,  is  he  ?  "  said  Mr.  Nupkins.  '*  A  conspi- 
racy to  defeat  the  ends  of  justice,  and  murder  its  officers.  Pickwick's 
servant.     Put  that  down,  Mr.  Jinks." 

Mr.  Jinks  did  so. 

*'  What's  your  name,  fellow  ?  "  thundered  Mr.  Nupkins. 

"  Veller,"  replied  Sam. 
.   "  A  very  good  name  for  the  Newgate  Calendar,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins. 

This  was  a  joke ;  so  Jinks,  Grummer,  Dubbley,  all  the  specials,  and 
Muzzle,  went  into  fits  of  laughter  of  five  minutes'  duration. 

"  Put  down  his  name,  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate. 

**  Two  L's,  old  feller,"  said  Sam. 

Here  an  unfortunate  special  laughed  again,  whereupon  the  magistrate 


THE  PICKWICK    CLUB.  257 

threatened  to  commit  him,  instantly.     It's  a  dangerous  thing  laughing 
at  the  wrong  man,  in  these  cases. 

"  Where  do  you  live?  "  said  the  magistrate. 
'•  Vare-ever  I  can,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Put  down  that,  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate,  who  was  fast  rising 
into  a  rage. 

"  Score  it  under,"  said  Sam. 

'*  He  is  a  vagabond,  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate.  **  He  is  a  vaga- 
bond on  his  own  statement,  is  he  not,  Mr.  Jinks  ?  " 
"  Certainly,  Sir." 

''  Then  1 11  commit  him — I'll  commit  him,  as  such,"  said  Mr. 
Nupkins. 

"  This  is  a  wery  impartial  country  for  justice,"  said  Sam.  "  There 
ain't  a  magistrate  going,  as  don't  commit  himself,  twice  as  often  as  he 
commits  other  people.'* 

At  this  sally  another  special  laughed,  and  then  tried  to  look  so  super- 
naturally  solemn,  that  the  magistrate  detected  him  immediately. 

"  Grummer,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  reddening  with  passion,  "  how  dare 
you  select  such  an  inefficient  and  disreputable  person  for  a  special  con- 
table,  as  that  man  ?     How  dare  you  do  it,  Sir  ?  " 

"  J  am  very  sorry,  your  wash-up,"  stammered  Grummer. 
"  Very  sorry  I  "  said  the  furious  magistrate.     "  You  shall  repent  of 
this  neglect  of  duty,  Mr.  Grummer ;  you  shall  be  made  an  example  of. 
Take  that  fellow's  staff  away.     He's  drunk.     You're  drunk,  fellow." 
"  I  am  not  drunk,  your  worship,"  said  the  man. 
"  You  are  drunk,"   returned  the  magistrate.      "  How  dare  you  say 
you  are  not  drunk,  Sir,  when  1  say  you  are  ?     Doesn't   he  smell  of 
spirits,  Grummer?  " 

"  Horrid,  your  wash-up,"  replied  Grumraer,  who  had  a  vague  im- 
pression that  there  was  a  smell  of  rum  somewhere. 

''  I  knew  he  did,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins.    "  I  saw  he  was  drunk  when  he 
first  came  into   the  room,  by  his  excited  eye.     Did   you  observe   his 
excited  eye,  Mr.  Jinks  ?  " 
"  Certainly,  Sir." 

*'  I  haven't  touched  a  drop  of  spirits  this  morning,"  said  the  man,  who 
was  as  sober  a  fellow  as  need  be. 

"  How  dare  you  tell  me  a  falsehood  ?  "  said  Mr.  Nupkins.     "  Is  n't 
he  drunk  at  this  moment,  Mr.  Jinks  ?  " 
**  Certainly,  Sir,"  replied  Jinks. 

"  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate,  *'  I  shall  commit  that  man,  for 
contempt.     Make  out  his  committal,  Mr.  Jinks." 

And  committed  the  special  would  have  been,  only  Jinks,  who  was  the 
magistrate's  adviser,  having  had  a  legal  education  of  three  years  in  a 
country  attorney's  office,  whispered  the  magistrate  that  he  thought  it 
wouldn't  do ;  so  the  magistrate  made  a  speech,  and  said,  that  in  consi- 
deration of  the  special's  family,  he  would  merely  reprimand  and  discharge 
him.  Accordingly,  the  special  was  abused  vehemently  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  and  sent  about  his  business :  and  Grummer,  Dubbley,  Muzzle, 


258  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

and  all  the  other  specials  murmured  their  admiration  of  the  magnanimity 
of  Mr.  Nupkins. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate,  ''  swear  Grummer.*' 

G  rummer  was  sworn  directly;  but  as  Grummer  wandered,  and  Mr. 
Nupkins'  dinner  was  nearly  ready,  Mr.  Nupkins  cut  the  matter  short, 
by  putting  leading  questions  to  Grummer,  which  Grummer  answered  as 
nearly  in  the  affirmative  as  he  could.  So  the  examination  went  off,  all 
very  smooth  and  comfortable  ;  and  two  assaults  were  proved  against  Mr. 
Waller,  and  a  threat  against  Mr.  Winkle,  and  a  push  against  Mr.  Snod- 
grass.  And  when  all  this  was  done  to  the  magistrate's  satisfaction,  the 
magistrate  and  Mr.  Jinks  consulted  in  whispers. 

The  consultation  having  lasted  about  ten  minutes,  Mr.  Jinks  retired 
to  his  end  of  the  table ;  and  the  magistrate,  with  a  preparatory  cough, 
drew  himself  up  in  his  chair,  and  was  proceeding  to  commence  his 
address,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  interposed. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir,  for  interrupting  you,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ; 
''  but  before  you  proceed  to  express,  and  act  upon,  any  opinion  you  may 
have  formed  on  the  statements  which  have  been  made  here,  I  must 
claim  my  right  to  be  heard,  so  far  as  I  am  personally  concerned." 

"  Hold  your  tongue.  Sir,"  said  the  magistrate,  peremptorily. 

*'  I  must  submit  to  you.  Sir,"—-  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Sir,"  interposed  the  magistrate,  "  or  I  shall 
order  an  officer  to  remove  you." 

"  You  may  order  your  officers  to  do  whatever  you  please.  Sir,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick;  "  and  I  have  no  doubt,  from  the  specimen  I  have  had  of 
the  subordination  preserved  among  them,  that  whatever  you  order,  they 
will  execute  ;  but  I  shall  take  the  liberty,  Sir,  of  claiming  my  right  to 
be  heard,  until  I  am  removed  by  force." 

"  Pickvick  and  principle,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  very  audible 
voice. 

"  Sam,  be  quiet,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Dumb  as  a  drum  vith  a  hole  in  it,"  replied  Sam. 

Mr.  Nupkins  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  gaze  of  intense  astonish- 
ment, at  his  displaying  such  unwonted  temerity ;  and  was  apparently 
about  to  return  a  very  angry  reply,  when  Mr.  Jinks  pulled  him  by  tiie 
sleeve,  and  whispered  something  in  his  ear.  To  this,  the  magistrate 
returned  a  half-audible  answer,  and  then  the  whispering  was  renewed. 
Jinks  was  evidently  remonstrating. 

At  length  the  magistrate,  gulping  down  with  a  very  bad  grace  his 
disinclination  to  hear  anything  more,  turned  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  said 
sharply — "  What  do  you  want  to  say?  " 

"  First,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  sending  a  look  through  his  spectacles, 
under  which  even  Nupkins  quailed.  "  First,  I  wish  to  know  what  I 
and  my  friend  have  been  brought  here  for  ?  " 

'<  Must  I  tell  him  ?  "  whispered  the  magistrate  to  Jinks. 

"  I  think  you  had  better.  Sir,"  whispered  Jinks  to  the  magistrate. 

"  An  information  has  been  sworn  before  me,"  said  the  magistrate, 
'"■  that  it  is  apprehended  you  are  going  to  fight  a  duel,  and  that  the 


THE    PICK.WICK    CLUB.  269 

Other  man,  Tupman,  is  your  aider  and  abettor  in  it.     Therefore— eh, 
Mr.  Jinks  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Sir." 

"  Therefore,  I  call  upon  you  both,  to — I  think  that's  the  course,  Mr. 
Jinks?" 

•*  Certainly,  Sir." 

«  To — to — what  Mr.  Jinks  ?  "  said  the  magistrate,  pettishly. 

«  To  find  bail,  Sir." 

"  Yes.  Therefore,  I  call  upon  you  both — as  I  was  about  to  say> 
when  I  was  interrupted  by  ray  clerk — to  find  bail." 

"  Good  bail,"  whispered  Mr.  Jinks. 

"  I  shall  require  g-ood  bail,"  said  the  magistrate. 

"  Town's-people,"  whispered  Jinks. 

**  They  must  be  town's-people,"  said  the  magistrate. 

"  Fifty  pounds  each,"  whispered  Jinks,  "  and  householders,  of 
course." 

"  I  shall  require  two  sureties  of  fifty  pounds  each,"  said  the  magis- 
trate aloud,  with  great  dignity,  "and  they  must  be  householders,  of 
course." 

"  But,  bless  my  heart,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who,  together  with 
Mr.  Tupman,  was  all  amazement  and  indignation  ;  ''  we  are  perfect 
strangers  in  this  town.  I  have  as  little  knowledge  of  any  householders 
here,  as  I  have  intention  of  fighting  a  duel  with  any  body." 

"  I  dare  say,"  replied  the  magistrate,  "  I  dare  say— -don't  you,  Mr, 
Jinks  ?  " 

«  Certainly,  Sir." 

"Have  you  anything  more  to  say?  "  inquired  the  magistrate. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  a  great  deal  more  to  say,  which  he  would  no 
doubt  have  said,  very  little  to  his  own  advantage,  or  the  magistrate's 
satisfaction,  if  he  had  not,  the  moment  he  ceased  speaking,  been  pulled 
by  the  sleeve  by  Mr.  Weller,  with  whom  he  was  immediately  engaged 
in  so  earnest  a  conversation,  that  he  suffered  the  magistrate's  inquiry 
to  pass  wholly  unnoticed.  Mr.  Nupkins  was  not  the  man  to  ask  a 
question  of  the  kind  twice  over  ;  and  so,  with  another  preparatory  cough, 
he  proceeded,  amidst  the  reverential  and  admiring  silence  of  the  con- 
stables, to  pronounce  his  decision. 

He  should  fine  Weller  two  pounds  for  the  first  assault,  and  three 
pounds  for  the  second.  He  should  fine  Winkle  two  pounds,  and 
Snodgrass  one  pound,  besides  requiring  them  to  enter  into  their  own 
recognizances  to  keep  the  peace  towards  all  his  Majesty's  subjects,  and 
especially  towards  his  liege  servant,  Daniel  Grummer.  Pickwick  and 
Tupman  he  had  already  held  to  bail. 

Immediately  on  the  m-agistrate  ceasing  to  speak,  Mr.  Pickwick.,  with 
a  smile  mantling  on  his  again-good-humoured  countenance,  stepped 
forward,  and  said — 

"  I  beg  the  magistrate's  pardon,  but  may  I  request  a  few  minutes* 
private  conversation  with  him,  on  a  matter  of  deep  importance  to 
himself?" 

"  What  1"  said  the  magistrate. 

X 


1 

2G0  POSTHUMOUS     PAPERS    OF 

Mr.  Pickwick  repeated  his  request. 

"  This  is  a  most  extraordinary  request,"  said  the  magistrate — "  A 
private  interview  !" 

"  A  private  interview,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  firmly ;  «  only  as  a 
part  of  the  information  which  I  wish  to  communicate  is  derived  from 
my  servant,  I  should  wish  him  to  be  present." 

The  magistrate  looked  at  Mr.  Jinks,  Mr.  Jinks  looked  at  the 
magistrate,  and  the  officers  looked  at  each  other  in  amazement.  Mr. 
Nupkins  turned  suddenly  pale.  Could  the  man  Weller,  in  a  moment 
of  remorse,  have  divulged  some  secret  conspiracy  for  his  assassination  ? 
It  was  a  dreadful  thought.  He  was  a  public  man  ;  and  he  turned  paler, 
as  he  thought  of  Julius  Caesar  and  Mr.  Perceval. 

The  magistrate  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick  again,  and  beckoned  Mr. 
Jinks. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this  request,  Mr.  Jinks  ?"  murmured  Mr. 
Nupkins. 

Mr.  Jinks,  who  didn't  exactly  know  what  to  think  of  it,  and  was 
afraid  he  might  offend,  smiled  feebly,  after  a  dubious  fashion,  and, 
screwing  up  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  shook  his  head  slowly  from  side 
to  side. 

"  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate,  gravely,  "  you  are  an  ass.  Sir." 

At  this  little  expression  of  opinion,  Mr.  Jink$  smiled  again — rather 
more  feebly  than  before — and  edged  himself,  by  degrees,  back  into  his 
own  corner. 

Mr.  Nupkins  debated  the  matter  within  himself  for  a  few  seconds, 
and  then,  rising  from  his  chair,  and  requesting  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam 
to  follow  him,  led  the  way  into  a  small  room  which  opened  into  the 
justice  parlour.  Desiring  Mr.  Pickwick  to  walk  to  the  further  end  of 
the  little  apartment,  and  holding  his  hand  upon  the  half-closed  door, 
that  he  might  be  able  to  effect  an  immediate  escape,  in  case  there  was 
the  least  tendency  to  a  display  of  hostilities,  Mr.  Nupkins  expressed 
his  readiness  to  hear  the  communication,  whatever  it  might  be. 

*'  I  will  come  to  the  point  at  once,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ^'  it 
affects  yourself,  and  your  credit,  materially.  I  have  every  reason  to 
believe.  Sir,  that  you  are  harbouring  in  your  house,  a  gross  impostor !  " 

"  Two,"  interrupted  Sam,  "  Mulberry  agin  all  natur,  for  tears  and 
wiljainny." 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  if  I  am  to  render  myself  intelligible  to 
this  gentleman,  I  must  beg  you  to  controul  your  feelings." 

•'  Wery  sorry.  Sir,"  Feplied  Mr.  Weller ;  "  but  when  I  think  o'  that 
'ere  Job,  I  can't  help  opening  the  waive  a  inch  or  two." 

"  In  one  word.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  is  my  servant  right  in  sus- 
pecting that  a  certain  Captain  Fitz-Marshall  is  in  the  habit  of  visiting 
here  ?  Because,"  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  saw  that  Mr.  Nupkins 
was  about  to  offer  a  very  indignant  interruption — "  because,  if  he  be,  I 
know  that  person  to  be  a — " 

"  Hush,  hush,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  closing  the  door.  "  Know  him 
to  be  what.  Sir?" 

*'  An   unprincipled    adventurer — a  dishonourable  character — a  man 


Tin:    nCKWICK    CLUB. 


2(;i 


who  preys  upon  society,  and  niak(fs  easily-deceived  people  his  dupes, 
Sir;  his  absurd,  his  ibohsh,  his  wretched  dupes,  Sir,"  said  the  excited 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  colouring  up  very  red,  and  altering^ 
his  whole  manner  directly.     "  Dear  me,  Mr.  — " 

"  Pickvick,"  said  Sam. 

"  Pickwick,"  said  the  Magistrate,  *'  dear  me,  Mr.  Pickwick — pray 
take  a  seat — you  cannot  mean  this  ?      Captain  Fitz-Marshall  I  " 

"  Don't  call  him  a  cap'en,"  said  Sam,  "  nor  Fitz-Marshall  neither; 
he  ain't  neither  one  nor  t'other.  He's  a  strolling  actor,  he  is,  and  his 
name's  Jingle  ;  and  if  ever  (here  was  a  wolf  in  a  mulberry  suit,  that  ere 
Job  Trotter's  him." 

*'  It  is  very  true.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  replying  to  the  magistrate's 
look  of  amazement ;  "  my  only  business  in  this  town,  is  to  expose  the 
person  of  whom  we  now  speak." 

And  Mr.  Pickwick  proceeded  to  pour  into  the  horror-stricken  ear  of 
Mr.  Nupkins,  an  abridged  account  of  all  Mr.  Jingle's  atrocities.  He 
related  how  he  had  first  met  him,  how  he  had  eloped  with  Miss  Wardle, 
how  he  had  cheerfully  resigned  the  lady  for  a  pecuniary  consideration, 
how  he  had  entrapped  him  into  a  lady's  boarding-school  at  midnight, 
and  how  he  (Mr.  Pickwick)  now  felt  it  his  duty  to  expose  his  assump- 
tion of  his  present  name  and  rank. 

As  the  narrative  proceeded,  all  the  warm  blood  in  the  body  of  Mr. 
Nupkins  tingled  up  into  the  very  tips  of  his  ears.  He  had  picked  up 
the  captain  at  a  neighbouring  race-course.  Charmed  with  his  long  list 
of  aristocratic  acquaintance,  his  extensive  travel,  and  his  fashionable 
demeanour,  Mrs.  Nupkins  and  Miss  Nupkins  had  exhibited  Captain 
Fitz-Marshall,  and  quoted  Captain  Fitz-Marshall,  and  hurled  Captain 
Fitz-Marshall  at  the  devoted  heads  of  their  select  circle  of  acquaintance, 
until  their  bosom  friends,  Mrs.  Porkenham  and  the  Miss  Porkenhams, 
and  Mr.  Sidney  Porkenham,  were  ready  to  burst  with  jealousy  and 
despair.  And  now,  to  hear  after  all,  that  he  was  a  needy  adventurer,  a 
strolling  player,  and  if  not  a  swindler,  something  so  very  like  it,  that  it 
was  hard  to  tell  the  difference  !  Heavens  !  what  would  the  Porkenhams 
say  !  What  would  be  the  triumph  of  Mr.  Sidney  Porkenham  when  he 
found  that  his  addresses  had  been  slighted  for  such  a  rival !  How  should 
he  meet  the  eye  of  old  Porkenham  at  the  next  Quarter  Sessions  ! — and 
what  a  handle  would  it  be  for  the  opposition  magisterial  party,  if  the 
story  got  abroad ! 

"  But  after  all,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  brightening  up  for  a  moment, 
after  a  long  pause  ;  "  after  all,  this  is  a  mere  statement.  Captain  Fitz- 
Marshall  is  a  man  of  very  engaging  manners, — and,  I  dare  say,  has 
many  enemies.  What  proof  have  you,  of  the  truth  of  these  represent- 
ations?" 

"  Confront  me  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  that  is  all  I  ask,  and 
all  I  require.  Confront  him  with  me,  and  ray  friends  here  ;  you  will 
want  no  further  proof." 

"  Why,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  "  that  might  be  very  easily  done,  for 
he  will  be  here  to-night,  and  then  there  would  be  no  occasion  to  make 

x2 


262  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

the  matter  public,  just— just — for  the  young  man's  own  sake,  you  know. 
I — I — should  like  to  consult  Mrs.  Nupkins  on  the  propriety  of  the  step, 
in  the  first  instance,  though.  At  all  events,  Mr.  Pickwick,  we  must 
despatch  this  legal  business  before  we  can  do  anything  else.  Pray  step 
back  into  the  next  room." 

Into  the  next  room  they  went. 

"  Grummer,"  said  the  magistrate,  in  an  awful  voice. 

«'  Your  wash-up,"  replied  Grummer,  with  the  smile  of  a  favourite. 

«'  Come,  come,  Sir,"  said  the  magistrate,  sternly,  "  don't  let  me  see 
any  of  this  levity  here.  It  is  very  unbecoming,  and  I  can  assure  you 
that  you  have  very  little  to  smile  at.  Was  the  account  you  gave  me 
just  now,  strictly  true  ?     Now  be  careful.  Sir." 

"  Your  wash-up,"  stammered  Grummer,  "  I — " 

**  Oh,  you  are  confused,  are  you  ?"  said  the  magistrate.  "  Mr.  Jinks, 
you  observe  this  confusion  ?" 

"  Certainly,  Sir,"  replied  Jinks. 

"  Now,"  said  the  magistrate,  "just  repeat  your  statement,  Grummer, 
and  again  I  warn  you  to  be  careful.     Mr.  Jinks,  take  his  words  down." 

The  unfortunate  Grummer  proceeded  to  re-state  his  complaint,  but, 
what  between  Mr.  Jinks's  taking  down  his  words,  and  the  magistrate's 
taking  them  up  ;  his  natural  tendency  to  rambling,  and  his  extreme 
confusion,  he  managed  to  get  involved,  in  something  under  three 
minutes,  in  such  a  mass  of  entanglement  and  contradiction,  that  Mr. 
Nupkins  at  once  declared  he  didn't  believe  him.  So  the  lines  were 
remitted,  and  Mr.  Jinks  found  a  couple  of  bail  in  no  time.  And  all 
these  solemn  proceedings  having  been  satisfactorily  concluded,  Mr. 
Grummer  was  ignominiously  ordered  out — an  awful  instance  of  the 
instability  of  human  greatness,  and  the  uncertain  tenure  of  great  men's 
favour. 

Mrs.  Nupkins  was  a  majestic  female  in  a  blue  gauze  turban  and  a 
light  brown  wig.  Miss  Nupkins  possessed  all  her  mamma's  haughtiness 
without  the  turban,  and  all  her  ill-nature  without  the  wig ;  and  when- 
ever the  exercise  of  these  two  amiable  qualities  involved  mother  and 
daughter  in  some  unpleasant  dilemma,  as  they  not  unfrequently  did, 
they  both  concurred  in  laying  the  blame  on  the  shoulders  of  Mr.  Nup- 
kins. Accordingly,  when  Mr.  Nupkins  sought  Mrs.  Nupkins,  and 
detailed  the  communication  which  had  been  made  by  Mr.  Pickwick, 
Mrs.  Nupkins  suddenly  recollected  that  she  had  always  expected  some- 
thing of  the  kind ;  that  she  "had  always  said  it  would  be  so ;  that  her 
advice  was  never  taken  ;  that  she  really  did  not  know  what  Mr.  Nupkins 
supposed  she  was;  and  so  forth. 

"  The  idea!"  said  Miss  Nupkins,  forcing  a  tear  of  very  scanty 
proportions,  into  the  corner  of  each  eye,  "  the  idea  of  my  being  made 
such  a  fool  of!" 

"  Ah !  you  may  thank  your  papa,  my  dear,"  gaid  Mrs.  Nupkins ; 
"  how  I  have  implored  and  begged  that  man  to  inquire  into  the  Cap- 
tain's family  connections  ;  how  I  have  urged  and  entreated  him  to  take 
some  decisive  step !  I  am  quite  certain  nobody  would  believe  it — 
quite." 


THE    IMCKWICK    CLUB.  263 

"  But,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins. 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  you  aggravating^  thing,  don't,"  said  Mrs. 
Nupkins. 

"  My  love,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  "  you  professed  yourself  very  fond 
of  Captain  Fitz-Marshall.  You  have  constantly  asked  him  here,  my 
dear,  and  you  have  lost  no  opportunity  of  introducing  him  elsewhere." 

"  Didn't  I  say  so,  Henrietta?"  said  Mrs.  Nupkins,  appealing  to  her 
daughter  with  the  air  of  a  much-injured  female — "  Didn't  I  say  that 
your  papa  would  turn  round,  and  lay  all  this,  at  my  door?  Didn't  I  say 
60?"     Here  Mrs.  Nupkins  sobbed. 

"  Oh  pa  ! "  remonstrated  Miss  Nupkins.     And  here  she  sobbed  too. 

"  Isn't  it  too  much,  when  he  has  brought  all  this  disgrace  and  ridi- 
cule upon  us,  for  him  to  taunt  me  with  being  the  cause  of  it?"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Nupkins. 

"  How  can  we  ever  shew  ourselves  in  society!"  said  Miss  Nupkins. 

"  How  can  we  face  the  Porkenhams ! "  said  Mrs.  Nupkins. 

"  Or  the  Griggs's  !'*  said  Miss  Nupkins. 

**  Or  the  Slummintowkens ! "  said  Mrs.  Nupkins.  "  But  what  does 
your  papa  care  I  What  is  it  to  him!"  At  this  dreadful  reflection, 
Mrs.  Nupkins  wept  with  mental  anguish,  and  Miss  Nupkins  followed 
on  the  same  side. 

Mrs.  Nupkins's  tears  continued  to  gush  forth,  with  great  velocity, 
until  she  had  gained  a  little  time  to  think  the  matter  over,  when  she 
decided  in  her  own  mind,  that  the  best  thing  to  do,  would  be  to  ask 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  to  remain  until  the  Captain's  arrival,  and 
then  to  give  Mr.  Pickwick  the  opportunity  he  sought.  If  it  appeared 
that  he  had  spoken  truly-,  the  Captain  could  be  turned  out  of  the  house 
without  noising  the  matter  abroad,  and  they  could  easily  account  to  the 
Porkenhams  for  his  disappearance,  by  saying  that  he  had  been  appointed, 
through  the  Court  influence  of  his  family,  to  the  Governor-Generalship 
of  Sierra  Leone,  or  Sangur  Point,  or  any  other  of  those  salubrious 
climates  which  enchant  Europeans  so  much,  that,  when  they  once  get 
there,  they  can  hardly  ever  prevail  upon  themselves  to  come  back 
again. 

When  Mrs.  Nupkins  dried  up  her  tears,  Miss  Nupkins  dried  up 
Aer'j,  and  Mr.  Nupkins  was  very  glad  to  settle  the  matter  as  Mrs. 
Nupkins  had  proposed.  So  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends,  having 
washed  ofi"  all  marks  of  their  late  encounter,  were  introduced  to  the 
ladies,  and  soon  afterwards  to  their  dinner  ;  and  Mr.  Weller,  whom  the 
magistrate  with  his  peculiar  sagacity,  had  discovered  in  half  an  hour  to 
be  one  of  the  finest  fellows  alive,  was  consigned  to  the  care  and  guardian- 
ship of  Mr.  Muzzle,  who  was  specially  enjoined  to  take  him  below^  and 
make  much  of  him. 

"  How  de  do.  Sir?"  said  Mr.  Muzzle,  as  he  conducted  Mr.  Weller 
down  the  kitchen  stairs. 

"  Why,  no  con-siderable  change  has  taken  place  in  the  state  of  my 
system,  since  I  see  you  cocked  up  behind  your  governor's  chair  in  the 
j>arlour,  a  little  vile  ago,"  replied  Sam. 
~  "  You  will  excuse  my  not  taking  more  notice  of  youthen,"  said  Mr. 


f 


'264  POSl  HUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Muzzle.     *'  You   see,   master  hadn't  introduced  us,  then.     Lord,  how 
fond  he  is  of  you,  Mr.  Weller,  to  be  sure ! " 

"  Ah,"  said  Sara,  "  what  a  pleasant  chap  he  is  I" 

"  Ain't  he?"  replied  Mr.  Muzzle. 

"  So  much  humour,"  said  Sam. 

"  And  such  a  man  to  speak,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle.  "  How  his  ideas 
flow,  don't  they  ?" 

"  Wonderful,"  replied  Sara  ;  "  they  coraes  a  pouring  out,  knocking 
each  other's  heads  so  fast,  that  they  seems  to  stun  one  another ;  you 
hardly  know  what  he's  arter,  do  you?" 

"  That's  the  great  merit  of  his  style  of  speaking,"  rejoined  Mr. 
Muzzle.  "  Take  care  of  the  last  step,  Mr.  Weller.  Would  you  like 
to  wash  your  hands.  Sir,  before  we  join  the  ladies  ?  Here's  a  sink,  with 
the  water  laid  on,  Sir,  and  a  clean  jack  towel  behind  the  door." 

*'  Ah,  perhaps  I  may  as  vel  have  a  rinse,"  replied  Mr.  Weller, 
applying  plenty  of  yellow  soap  to  the  towel,  and  rubbing  away,  till  his 
face  shone  again.     "  How  many  ladies  are  there  ?  " 

"  Only  two  in  our  kitchen,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle,  "  cook  and  'ousemaid. 
We  keep  a  boy  to  do  the  dirty  work,  and  a  gal  besides,  but  they  dine 
in  the  washus." 

"  Oh,  they  dines  in  the  washus,  do  they  ?  "  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Muzzle,  "  we  tried  'em  at  our  table  when  they 
first  come,  but  we  couldn't  keep  'em.  The  gal's  manners  is  dreadful 
vulgar ;  and  the  boy  breathes  so  very  hard  while  he's  eating,  that  we 
found  it  impossible  to  sit  at  table  with  him." 

"  What  a  young  grampus  ! "  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Oh,  dreadful,"  rejoined  Mr.  Muzzle ;  "  but  that  is  the  worst  of 
country  service,  Mr.  Weller;  the  juniors  is  always  so  very  savage. 
This  way.  Sir,  if  you  please — this  way." 

And  preceding  Mr.  Weller,  with  the  utmost  politeness,  Mr.  Muzzle 
conducted  him  into  the  kitchen. 

"'  Mary,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle  to  the  pretty  servant-girl,  "  this  is  Mr. 
Weller,  a  gentleman  as  master  has  sent  down,  to  be  made  as  comfort- 
able as  possible." 

*'  And  your  master's  a  knowin'  hand — and  has  just  sent  me  to  the 
right  place,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  glance  of  admiration  at  Mary. 
**  If  I  was  master  o'  this  here  house,  I  should  alvays  find  the  materials 
for  comfort  vere  Mary  vas. ' 

"  Lor,  Mr.  Weller  !  "  said  Mary,  blushing. 

"  Well,  I  never  I  "  ejaculated  the  cook. 

"  Bless  me,  cook,  I  forgot  you,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle.  ''  Mr.  Weller, 
let  me  introduce  you." 

"  How  are  you.  Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  Wery  glad  to  see  you, 
indeed  ;  and  hope  our  acquaintance  may  be  a  long  'un,  as  the  gen'lm'n 
said  to  the  fi'  pun'  note." 

When  this  ceremony  of  introduction  had  been  gone  through,  the 
cook  and  Mary  retired  into  the  back  kitchen  to  titter  for  ten  minutes ; 
and  then  returning,  all  giggles  and  blushes,  they  sat  down  to  dinner. 

Mr.  Weller's  easy  manner  and  conversational  powers  had  such  irre 


'»-',%  >or 


yOOft^  265 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  265 

sistible  influence  with  his  new  friends,  that  before  the  dinner  was  half 
over,  they  were  on  a  footing  of  perfect  intimacy,  and  in  possession  of  a 
full  account  of  the  delinquency  of  Job  Trotter. 

*'  I  never  could  a-bear  that  Job,"  said  Mary. 

"  No  more  you  never  ought  to,  my  dear,'  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

*'  Why  not  ?  "  inquired  Mary. 

"  Cos  ugliness  and  svindlin'  never  ought  to  be  formiliar  vith  elegance 
^nd  wirtew,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.     "  Ought  they,  Mr.  Muzzle?  " 

*'  Not  by  no  means,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

Here  Mary  laughed,  and  said  the  cook  had  made  her  ;  and  the  cook 
laughed,  and  said  she  hadn't. 

*^  I  han't  got  a  glass,"  said  Mary. 

"  Drink  vith  me,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  Put  your  lips  to 
this  here  tumbler,  and  then  I  can  kiss  you  by  deputy." 

"  For  shame,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mary. 

"  What's  a  shame,  my  dear  ?  " 

**  Talkin'  in  that  way." 

"  Nonsense  ;  it  ain't  no  harm.     It's  natur  ;  ain't  it,  cook  ?  " 

'*  Don't  ask  me  imperence,"  replied  the  cook,  in  a  high  state  of 
delight:  and  hereupon  the  cook  and  Mary  laughed  again,  till  what 
between  the  beer,  and  the  cold  meat,  and  the  laughter  combined,  the 
latter  young  lady  was  brought  to  the  verge  of  choaking — an  alarming 
crisis  from  which  she  was  only  recovered  by  sundry  pats  of  the  back,  and 
other  necessary  attentions,  most  delicately  administered  by  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  jollity  and  conviviality,  a  loud  ring  was  heard 
at  the  garden-gate,  to  which  the  young  gentleman  who  took  his  meals 
in  the  wash-house,  immediately  responded.  Mr.  Weller  was  in  the 
height  of  his  attentions  to  the  pretty  housemaid  ;  Mr.  Muzzle  was  busy 
doing  the  honours  of  the  table  ;  and  the  cook  had  just  paused  to  laugh, 
in  the  very  act  of  raising  a  huge  morsel  to  her  lips,  when  the  kitchen- 
door  opened,  and  in  walked  Mr.  Job  Trotter. 

We  have  said  in  walked  Mr.  Job  Trotter,  but  the  statement  is  not 
distinguished  by  our  usual  scrupulous  adherence  to  fact.  The  door 
opened,  and  Mr.  Trotter  appeared.  He  would  have  walked  in,  and  was 
in  the  very  act  of  doing  so  indeed,  when  catching  sight  of  Mr.  W^eller, 
he  involuntarily  shrunk  back  a  pace  or  two,  and  stood  gazing  on  the 
unexpected  scene  before  him,  perfectly  motionless  with  amazement  and 
terror. 

*'Here  he  is,"  said  Sam,  rising  with  great  glee.  *'Why  we  were  that 
wery  moment  a  speaking  o'  you.  How  are  you  ?  Vere  have  you  been  ? 
Come  in." 

And  laying  his  hand  on  the  mulberry  collar  of  the  unresisting  Job, 
Mr.  Weller  dragged  him  into  the  kitchen  ;  and  locking  the  door,  handed 
the  key  to  Mr.  Muzzle,  who  very  coolly  buttoned  it  up,  in  a  side- 
pocket. 

"  Well,  here's  a  game,"  cried  Sam.  "  Only  think  o*  my  master 
havin'  the  pleasure  o'  meeting  your'n,  up  stairs,  and  me  havin'the  joy  o' 
meetin'  you  down   here.     How  are  you  gettin'  on,  and  how   is  the 


266  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

chandlery  bis'ness  likely  to  do?  Vel,  I  am  so  g-lad  to  see  you.  How  happy 
you  look.     It's  quite  a  treat  to  see  you,  ain't  it,  Mr.  Muzzle  ?  " 

**  Quite,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle. 

"  So  cheerful  he  is,"  said  Sam. 

**  In  such  good  spirits,"  said  Muzzle. 

'*  And  so  glad  to  see  ns — that  makes  it  so  much  more  comfortable," 
said  Sam.     "  Sit  down  ;  sit  down." 

Mr.  Trotter  suffered  himself  to  be  forced  into  a  chair  by  the  fireside. 
He  cast  his  small  eyes  first  on  Mr.  Weller,  and  then  on  Mr.  Muzzle, 
but  said  nothing. 

"  Well,  now,"  said  Sam,  "  afore  these  here  ladies,  I  should  just  like 
to  ask  you,  as  a  sort  of  curiosity,  vether  you  don't  con-sider  yourself  as 
nice  and  veil-behaved  a  young  gen'lm'n  as  ever  used  a  pink  check 
pocket-handkerchief,  and  the  number  four  collection  ?  " 

"  And  as  was  ever  a-going  to  be  married  to  a  cook,"  said  that  lady, 
indignantly,  "  The  willin  I  " 

*'  And  leave  off  his  evil  ways,  and  set  up  in  the  chandlery  line,  arter- 
wards,"  said  the  house -maid. 

"  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle, 
solemnly,  enraged  at  the  last  two  allusions,  "  this  here  lady  (pointing 
to  the  cook)  keeps  company  with  me ;  and  when  you  presume.  Sir,  to 
talk  of  keeping  chandlers'  shops  with  her,  you  injure  me  in  one  of  the 
most  delicatest  points  in  which  one  man  can  injure  another.  Do  you 
understand  that.  Sir  ?  " 

Here  Mr.  Muzzle,  who  had  a  great  notion  of  his  eloquence,  in  which 
he  imitated  his  master,  paused  for  a  reply. 

But  Mr.  Trotter  made  no  reply.  So  Mr.  Muzzle  proceeded  in  a 
solemn  manner — 

"  It's  veiy  probable.  Sir,  that  you  won't  be  wanted  up  stairs  for 
several  minutes.  Sir,  because  mj/  master  is  at  this  moment  particularly 
engaged  in  settling  the  hash  of  j/owr  master.  Sir ;  and  therefore  you'll 
have  leisure.  Sir,  for  a  little  private  talk  with  me.  Sir.  Do  you  under- 
stand that,  Sir  ?  " 

Mr.  Muzzle  again  paused  for  a  reply ;  and  again  Mr.  Trotter  disap- 
pointed him. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Muzale,  *'  I'm  very  sorry  to  have  to  explain 
myself  before  the  ladies,  but  the  urgency  of  the  case  will  be  my  excuse. 
The  back  kitchen's  empty,  Sir ;  if  you  will  step  in  there,  Sir,  Mr. 
Weller  will  see  fair,  and  we  can  have  mutual  satisfaction  'till  the  bell 
rings.     Follow  me,  Sir." 

As  Mr.  Muzzle  uttered  these  words,  he  took  a  step  or  two  towards 
the  door ;  and  by  way  of  saving  time,  began  to  pull  off  his  coat  as  he 
walked  along. 

Now  the  cook  no  sooner  heard  the  concluding  words  of  this  desperate 
challenge,  and  saw  Mr.  Muzzle  about  to  put  it  into  execution,  than  she 
uttered  a  loud  and  piercing  shriek ;  and  rushing  on  Mr.  Job  Trotter, 
who  rose  from  his  chair  on  the  instant,  tore  and  buffeted  his  large  flat 
face,  with  an  energy  peculiar  to  excited  females,  and  twining  her  hands 
in  his  long  black  hair,  tore  therefrom  about  enough  to  make  five  or  six 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  267 

do»en  of  the  very  largest-sized  mourning-ring-s.  Having  accomplished 
this  feat  with  all  the  ardour  which  her  devoted  love  for  Mr.  Muzzle 
inspired,  she  staggered  back ;  and  being  a  lady  of  very  excitable  and 
delicate  feelings,  instantly  fell  under  the  dresser,  and  fainted  away. 

At  this  moment,  the  bell  rang. 

"  That's  for  you.  Job  Trotter,"  said  Sam ;  and  before  Mr.  Trotter 
could  offer  remonstrance  or  reply — even  before  he  had  time  to  stanch 
the  wounds  inflicted  by  the  insensible  lady — Sam  seized  one  arm  and 
Mr.  Muzzle  the  other ;  and  one  pulling  before,  and  the  other  pushing 
behind,  they  conveyed  him  up  stairs,  and  into  the  parlour. 

It  was  an  impressive  tableau.  Alfred  Jingle,  Esquire,  alias  Captain 
Fitz-Marshall,  was  standing  near  the  door  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and 
a  smile  on  his  face,  wholly  unmoved  by  his  very  unpleasant  situation. 
Confronting  him,  stood  Mr.Pickwick,  who  had  evidently  been  inculcating 
some  high  moral  lesson,  for  his  left  hand  was  beneath  his  coat  tail,  and 
his  right  extended  in  air,  as  was  his  wont  when  delivering  himself  of  an 
impressive  address.  At  a  little  distance  stood  Mr.  Tupman  with  indig- 
nant countenance,  carefully  held  back  by  his  two  younger  friends;  and 
at  the  further  end  of  the  room  were  Mr.  Nupkins,  Mrs.  Nupkius,  and 
Miss  Nupkins,  gloomily  grand,  and  savagely  vexed. 

"  What  prevents  me,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  with  magisterial  dignity,  as 
Job  was  brought  in — "  what  prevents  me  from  detaining  these  men  as 
rogues  and  impostors  ?     It  is  a  foolish  mercy.     What  prevents  me  ?  " 

"  Pride,  old  fellow,  pride,"  replied  Jingle,  quite  at  his  ease.  "  Wouldn't 
do — no  go — caught  a  captain,  eh  ? — ha  I  ha  I  very  good — husbtrnd  for 
daughter — biter  bit — make  it  public — not  for  worlds — look  8tupid — 
very  I " 

*'  Wretch,"  said  Mrs.  Nupkins,  "  we  scorn  your  base  insinuations." 

"  I  always  hated  him,"  added  Henrietta. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  Jingle.  "  Tall  young  man— old  lover — Sidney 
Porkenham — rich — fine  fellow — not  so  rich  as  captain,though,eh  ? — turn 
him  away — off  with  him — anything  for  captain — nothing  like  captain 
anywhere — all  the  girls — raving  mad — eh,  Job,  eh  ?  " 

Here  Mr.  Jingle  laughed  very  heartily ;  and  Job,  rubbing  his  hands 
with  delight,  uttered  the  first  sound  he  had  given  vent  to,  since  he 
entered  the  honse — a  low  noiseless  chuckle,  which  seemed  to  intimate 
that  he  enjoyed  his  laugh  too  much,  to  let  any  of  it  escape  in  sound. 

"  Mr.  Nupkins,"  said  the  elder  lady,  *'  this  is  not  a  fit  conversation 
for  the  servants  to  overhear.     Let  these  wretches  be  removed." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins.     "  Muzzle." 

"  Your  worship." 

"  Open  the  front  door." 

"  Yes,  your  worship." 

"  Leave  the  house,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  waving  his  hand  emphatically. 

Jingle  smiled,  and  moved  towards  the  door. 

"  Stay,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Jingle  stopped, 

"  I  might,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  *'  have  taken  a  much  greater  revenge 
for  the  treatment  I  have  experienced  at  your  hands,  and  that  of  your 
hypocritical  friend  there." 


268  rosTHUMOus  papers  of 

Here  Job  Trotter  bowed  with  great  politeness,  and  laid  his  hand 
upon  his  heart. 

"  I  say,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  growing  gradually  angry,  '^  that  I  might 
have  taken  a  greater  revenge,  but  I  content  myself  with  exposing  you, 
which  I  consider  a  duty  I  owe  to  society.  This  is  a  leniency,  Sir,  which 
I  hope  you  will  remember." 

When  Mr.  Pickwick  arrived  at  this  point.  Job  Trotter,  with  facetious 
gravity,  applied  his  hand  to  his  ear,  as  if  desirous  not  to  lose  a  syllable 
he  uttered. 

"  And  I  have  only  to  add.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  now  thoroughly 
angry,  "  that  I  consider  you  a  rascal,  and  a — a  rufBan — and — and  worse 
than  any  man  I  ever  saw,  qr  heard  of,  except  that  very  pious  and  sancti- 
fied vagabond  in  the  mulberry  livery." 

"  Ha !  ha  !  "  said  Jingle,  "  good  fellow,  Pickwick — fine  heart — stout 
old  boy — but  must  not  be  passionate — bad  thing,  very — bye,  bye  — see 
you  again  some  day — keep  up  your  spirits — now  Job — trot." 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Jingle  stuck  on  his  hat  in  his  old  fashion, 
and  strode  out  of  the  room.  Job  Trotter  paused,  looked  round,  smiled, 
and  then  with  a  bow  of  mock  solemnity  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  a  wink  to 
Mr,  Weller,  the  audacious  slyness  of  which,  baffles  all  description,  fol- 
lowed the  footsteps  of  his  hopeful  master. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  Mr.  Weller  was  following. 

<^  Sir." 
■  "  Stay  here." 

\    Mr.  Weller  seemed  uncertain. 
- -"  Stay  here,"   repeated  Mr.  Pickwick. 

**  Mayn't  I  polish  that  ere  Job  off,  in  the  front  garden  }  *'  said  Mr. 
Weller. 

'^  Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Mayn't  I  kick  him  out  o'  the  gate.  Sir?  "  said  Mr.  Weller. 

*'  Not  on  any  account,"  replied  his  master. 

For  the  first  time  since  his  engagement,  Mr.  Weller  looked,  for  a 
moment,  discontented  and  unhappy.  But  his  countenance  immediately 
cleared  up,  for  the  wily  Mr.  Muzzle,  by  concealing  himself  behind  the 
street  door,  and  rushing  violently  out,  at  the  right  instant,  contrived 
with  great  dexterity  to  overturn  both  Mr.  Jingle  and  his  attendant, 
down  the  flight  of  steps,  into  the  American  aloe  tubs  that  stood  beneath. 

"  Having  discharged  my  duty,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  to  Mr.  Nup- 
kins,  "  I  will,  with  my  friends,  bid  you  farewell.  While  we  thank  you 
for  such  hospitality  as  wo  have  received,  permit  me  to  assure  you  in  our 
joint  names  that  we  should  not  have  accepted  it,  or  consented  to  extri- 
cate ourselves  in  this  way,  from  our  previous  dilemma,  had  we  not  been 
impelled  by  a  strong  sense  of  duty.  We  return  to  London  to-morrow. 
Your  secret  is  safe  with  us." 

Having  thus  entered  his  protest  against  their  treatment  of  the  morn- 
ing, Mr.  Pickwick  bowed  low  to  the  ladies ;  and  notwithstanding  the 
solicitations  of  the  family,  left  the  room  with  his  friends. 

"  Get  your  hat,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  It's  below  stairs.  Sir,"  said  Sam,  and  he  ran  down  after  it. 

Now  there  was  nobody  in  the  kitchen,  but  the  pretty  housemaid;  and 


\ 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  269 

as  Sam's  hat  was  mislaid,  he  had  to  look  for  it,  and  the  pretty  housemaid 
lig-hted  him.  They  had  to  look  all  over  the  place  for  the  hat ;  and  the 
pretty  housemaid,  in  her  anxiety  to  find  it,  went  down  on  her  knees, 
and  turned  over  all  the  things  that  were  heaped  together  in  a  little 
corner  by  the  door.  It  was  an  awkward  corner.  You  couldn't  get  at  it 
without  shutting  the  door  first. 

*•  Here  it  is,"  said  the  pretty  housemaid.     "  This  is  it,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  Let  me  look,"  said  Sam. 

The  pretty  housemaid  had  stood  the  candle  on  the  floor;  and  as  it 
gave  a  very  dim  light,  Sam  was  obliged  to  go  down  on  his  knees  before 
he  could  see  whether  it  really  was  his  own  hat  or  not.  It  was  a  remark- 
ably small  corner,  and  so — it  was  nobody's  fault  but  the  man's  who 
built  the  house — Sam  and  the  pretty  housemaid  were  necessarily  very 
close  together. 

"  Yes,  this  is  it,"  said  Sara.     "  Good  bye  '^ 

"  Good  bye,"  said  the  pretty  housemaid. 

"  Good  bye,"  said  Sam ;  and  as  he  said  it,  he  dropped  the  hat  that 
had  cost  so  much  trouble  looking  for. 

"  How  awkward  you  are,"  said  the  pretty  housemaid.  "  You'll  lose  it 
again,  if  you  don't  take  care." 

So  just  to  prevent  his  losing  it  again,  she  put  it  on  for  him. 

Whether  it  was  that  the  pretty  housemaid's  face  looked  prettier  still, 
when  it  was  raised  towards  Sam's,  or  whether  it  was  the  accidental 
consequence  of  their  being  so  near  each  other,  is  matter  of  uncertainty 
to  this  day,  but  Sam  kissed  her. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  did  that  on  purpose,"  said  the  pretty 
housemaid,  blushing. 

"  No,  I  didn't  then,"  said  Sam ;  '^  but  I  will  now." 

So  he  kissed  her  again. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  calling  over  the  bannisters. 

'*  Coming,  Sir,"  replied  Sam,  running  up  stairs. 

"  How  long  you  have  been,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  There  was  something  behind  the  door.  Sir,  which  perwented  our 
getting  it  open,  for  ever  so  long,"  replied  Sam. 

And  this  was  the  first  passage  of  Mr.  Weller's  first  love. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


WHICH    CONTAINS    A    BRIEF     ACCOUNT    OF     THE     PROGRESS    OF    THE 
ACTION    OF    BARBELL    AGAINST    PICKWICK. 

Having  accomplished  the  main  end  and  object  of  his  journey  by 
the  exposure  of  Jingle,  Mr.  Pickwick  resolved  on  immediately  returning 
to  London,  with  the  view  of  becoming  acquainted  with  the  proceedings 
which  had  been  taken  against  him,  in  the  mean  time,  by  Messrs. 
Dodson  and  Fogg.     Acting  upon  this  resolution  with  all  the  energy 


270  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

and  decision  of  his  character,  he  moiinteJ  to  the  back  seat  of  the 
first  coach,  which  left  Ipswich  on  the  morning  after  the  memorable 
occurrences  detailed  at  length  in  the  two  preceding  chapters;  and 
accompanied  by  his  three  friends  and  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  arrived  in 
the  metropolis  in  perfect  health  and  safety,  the  same  evening. 

Here  the  friends  for  a  short  time  separated.  Messrs.  Tupman, 
Winkle,  and  Snodgrass,  repaired  to  their  several  homes  to  make  such 
preparations  as  might  be  requisite  for  their  forthcoming  visit  to  Dingley 
Dell ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  took  up  their  present  abode  ift  very 
good,  old-fashioned,  and  comfortable  quarters,  to  wit,  the  George  and 
Vulture  Tavern  and  Hotel,  George  Yard,  Lombard  Street. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  dined,  finished  his  second  pint  of  particular  port, 
pulled  his  silk  handkerchief  over  his  head,  put  his  feet  on  the  fender, 
and  thrown  himself  back  in  an  easy  chair,  when  the  entrance  ot 
Mr.  Weller  with  his  carpet  bag,  aroused  him  from  his  tranquil  medi- 
tations. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  I  have  just  been  thinking,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  that 
having  left  a  good  many  things  at  Mrs.  Bardell's,  in  Goswell  Street,  I 
ought  to  arrange  for  taking  them  away,  before  I  leave  town  again." 

"  Wery  good,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

*'•  I  could  send  them  to  Mr.  Tupman's  for  the  present,  Sam,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Pickwick,  "  but,  before  we  take  them  away,  it  is  necessary 
that  they  should  be  looked  up,  and  put  together.  I  wish  you  would 
step  up  to  Goswell  Street,  Sam,  and  arrange  about  it." 

"  At  once,  Sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

*'  At  once,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  And  stay,  Sam,"  added  Mr. 
Pickwick,  pulling  out  his  purse,  "  There  is  some  rent  to  pay.  The 
quarter  is  not  due  till  Christmas,  but  you  may  pay  it,  and  have  done 
with  it.  A  month's  notice  terminates  my  tenancy.  Here  it  is,  written 
out.  Give  it,  and  tell  Mrs.  Bardell  she  may  put  a  bill  up,  as  soon  as 
she  likes." 

<'  Wery  good,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Wellei  ;  "  anythin*  more.  Sir?" 

"  Nothing  more,  Sam." 

Mr.  Weller  stepped  slowly  to  the  door,  as  if  he  expected  something 
further  ;  slowly  opened  it,  slowly  stepped  out,  and  had  slowly  closed  it 
within  a  couple  of  inches,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  called  out — 

"  Sam." 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  stepping  quickly  back,  and  closing  the 
door  behind  him. 

*'  I  have  no  objection,  Sam,  to  your  endeavouring  to  ascertain  how 
Mrs.  Bardell  herself,  seems  disposed  towards  me,  and  whether  it  is 
really  probable  that  this  vile  and  groundless  action  is  to  be  carried  to 
extremity.  I  say  I  do  not  object  to  your  doing  this,  if  you  wish  it, 
Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Sam  gave  a  short  nod  of  intelligence,  and  left  the  room.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick drew  the  silk  handkerchief  once  more  over  his  head,  and  composed 
himself  for  a  nap ;  Mr.  Weller  promptly  walked  forth,  to  execute  his 
commission. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  271 

It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  when  he  reached  Goswell  Street.  A 
couple  of  candles  were  burning  in  the  little  front  parlour,  and  a  couple 
of  caps  were  reflected  on  the  window-blind.  Mrs.  Bardell  had  got 
company. 

Mr.  Weller  knocked  at  the  door,  and  after  a  pretty  long  interval — : 
occupied  by  the  party  without,  in  whistling  a  tune,  and  by  the  party 
within,  in  persuading  a  refractory  flat  candle  to  allow  itself  to  be  lighted 
— a  pair  of  small  boots  pattered  over  the  floor-cloth,  and  Master  Bardell 
presented  himself. 

"Veil,  young  townskip,'*  said  Sam,  "how's  mother?" 

"  She's  pretty  well,"  replied  Master  Bardell,  "  so  am  I." 

"  Veil,  that's  a  mercy,"  said  Sara  ;  "  tell  her  I  want  to  speak  to  her, 
my  hinfant  fernomenon." 

Master  Bardell,  thus  adjured,  placed  the  refractory  flat  candle  on  the 
bottom  stair,  and  vanished  into  the  front  parlour  with  his  message. 

The  two  caps  reflected  on  the  window-blind,  were  the  respective 
head-dresses  of  a  couple  of  Mrs.  Bardell's  most  particular  acquaintance, 
who  had  just  stepped  in,  to  have  a  quiet  cup  of  tea,  and  a  little  warm 
supper  of  a  couple  of  sets  of  pettitoes  and  some  toasted  cheese.  The 
cheese  was  simmering  and  browning  away,  most  delightfully,  in  a  little 
Dutch  oven  before  the  fire,  and  the  pettitoes  were  getting  on  deliciously 
in  a  little  tin  saucepan  on  the  hob;  and  Mrs.  Bardell  and  her  two  friends 
were  getting  on  very  well,  also,  in  a  little  quiet  conversation  about  and 
concerning  all  their  particular  friends  and  acquaintance,  when  Master 
Bardell  came  back  from  answering  the  door,  and  delivered  the  message 
entrusted  to  him  by  Mr.  Samuel  Weller. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick's  servant !  "  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  turning  pale. 

"  Bless  my  soul  I "  said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

"  Well,  I  raly  would  not  ha'  believed  it,  unless  I  had  ha'  happened 
to  ha'  been  here  !  "  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

Mrs.  Cluppins  was  a  little  brisk,  busy-looking  woman  :  and  Mrs. 
Sanders  was  a  big,  fat,  heavy-faced  personage ;  and  the  two  were  the 
company. 

Mrs.  Bardell  felt  it  proper  to  be  agitated ;  and  as  none  of  the  three 
exactly  knew  whether,  under  existing  circumstances,  any  communica- 
tion, otherwise  than  through  Dodson  and  Fogg,  ought  to  be  held  with 
Mr.  Pickwick's  servant,  they  were  all  rather  taken  by  surprise.  In  this 
state  of  indecision,  obviously  the  first  thing  to  be  done,  was  to  thump 
the  boy  for  finding  Mr.  Weller  at  the  door.  So  his  mother  thumped 
him,  and  he  cried  melodiously. 

"  Hold  your  noise — do — you  naughty  creetur,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

**  Yes;  don't  worrit  your  poor  mother,"  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

*'  She's  quite  enough  to  worrit  her,  as  it  is,  without  you,  Tommy," 
said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  with  sympathising  resignation. 

"  Ah  I  worse  luck,  poor  lamb  !  "  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

At  all  which  moral  reflections.  Master  Bardell  howled  the  louder. 

'<  Now,  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Bardell  to  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

"  /  think  you  ought  to  see  him,"  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins.  "  But  on 
no  account  without  a  witness." 


272  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  /  think  two  witnesses  would  be  more  lawful,"  said  Mrs.  Senders, 
who,  like  the  other  friend,  was  bursting-  with  curiosity. 

'^  Perhaps,  he'd  better  come  in  here,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  To  be  sure,"  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins,  eagerly  catching-  at  the  idea — 
"  Walk  in,  young-  man  ;  and  shut  the  street  door  first,  please." 

Mr.Weller  immediately  took  the  hint ;  and  presenting  himself  in  the 
parlour,  explained  his  business  to  Mrs.  Bardell,  thus — 

"  Wery  sorry  to  'casion  any  personal  inconwenience,  Ma'am,  as  the 
housebreaker  said  to  the  old  lady  vhen  he  put  her  on  the  fire;  but  as 
me  and  my  governor's  only  just  come  to  town,  and  is  just  going  away 
agin,  it  can't  be  helped  you  see." 

"  Of  course,  the  young  man  can't  help  the  faults  of  his  master,"  said 
Mrs.  Cluppins,  much  struck  by  Mr.  Weller's  appearance  and  conver- 
sation. 

'^  Certainly  not,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Sanders,  who,  from  certain  wistful 
glances  at  the  little  tin  sauce-pan,  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  a  mental 
calculation  of  the  probable  extent  of  the  pettitoes,  in  the  event  of 
Sam's  being  asked  to  stop  supper. 

"  So  all  I've  come  about,  is  just  this  here,"  said  Sam,  disregarding 
the  interruption-—"  First,  to  give  my  governor's  notice — there  it  is. 
Secondly,  to  pay  the  rent — here  it  is.  Thirdly,  to  say  as  all  his  things 
is  to  be  put  together,  and  given  to  any  body  as  we  sends  for  'em. 
Fourthly,  that  you  may  lee  the  place  as  soon  as  you  like — and  that's  all." 

"  Whatever  has  happened,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  "  I  always  have  said 
and  always  will  say,  that  in  every  respect  but  one,  Mr.  Pickwick  has 
always  behaved  himself  like  a  perfect  gentleman.  His  money  always 
was  as  good  as  the  bank — always." 

As  Mrs.  Bardell  said  this,  she  applied  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes, 
and  went  out  of  the  room  to  get  the  receipt. 

Sam  well  knew  that  he  had  only  to  remain  quiet,  and  the  women 
were  sure  to  talk,  so  he  looked  alternately  at  the  tin  saucepan,  the 
toasted  cheese,  the  wall,  and  the  ceiling,  in  profound  silence. 

''■  Poor  dear!"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

"  Ah,  poor  thing!"  replied  Mrs.  Sanders. 

Sara  said  nothing.     He  saw  they  were  coming  to  the  subject. 

"  I  raly  cannot  contain  myself,"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  "  when  I 
think  of  such  perjury.  I  don't  wish  to  say  anything  to  make  you 
uncomfortable,  young  man,  but  your  master's  an  old  brute,  and  I  wish 
1  had  him  here  to  tell  him  so." 

"  1  vish  you  had,"  said  Sam. 

*'  To  see  how  dreadful  she  takes  on,  going  moping  about,  and  taking 
no  pleasure  in  nothing,  except  when  her  friends  comes  in,  out  of  charity, 
to  sit  with  her,  and  make  her  comfortable,"  resumed  Mrs.  Cluppins, 
glancing  at  the  tin  saucepan  and  the  Dutch  oven,  "  it's  shocking." 

"  Barbareous,"  said  Mrs.  Sanders. . 

*'  And  your  master,  young  man,  a  gentleman  with  money,  as  could 
never  feel  the  expense  of  a  wife,  no  more  than  nothing,"  continued 
Mrs.  Cluppins,  with  great  volubility;  "  why  there  ain't  the  faintest 
s^hade  of  an  excuse  for  his  behaviour.     Why  don't  he  marry  her?" 


1 


THE    PICKWICK   CLl  n.  273 

"  Ah,"  said  Sam,  "  to  be  sure  ;  that's  the  question." 

"  Question,  indeed,"  retorted  Mrs.  CUippins;  "she'd  question  him, 
if  she'd  my  spirit.  Hows'ever,  there  is  haw  for  us  women,  mis'rable 
creeturs  as  they'd  make  us,  if  they  could;  and  that  your  master  will  find 
out,  young  man,  to  his  cost,  afore  he's  six  months  older.'' 

At  this  consolatory  reflection,  ]\Irs.  Cluppins  bridled  up,  and  smiled 
at  ]Mrs.  Sanders,  who  smiled  back  again. 

"  T-he  action's  going  on,  and  no  mistake,"  thought  Sam,  as  ]Mrs. 
Dardell  re-entered  with  tlie  receipt. 

"  Here's  the  receipt,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  "  and  here's 
the  change,  and  I  hope  you'll  take  a  little  drop  of  something  to  keep 
the  cold  out,  if  it's  only  for  old  acquaintance'  sake,  Mr.  Weller." 

Sam  saw  the  advantage  he  should  gain,  and  at  once  acquiesced, 
whereupon  Mrs.  Bardell  produced  from  a  small  closet  a  black  bottle 
and  a  wine  glass,  and  so  great  was  her  abstraction  in  her  deep  mental 
affliction,  that,  after  filling  Mr.  Weller's  glass,  she  brought  out  three 
more  wine  glasses,  and  filled  them  too. 

"  Lauk,  Mrs.  Bardell,"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  *' see  what  you've  been 
and  done." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  good  one  !"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"  Ah,  my  poor  head  !"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  with  a  faint  smile. 

Sam  understood  all  this,  of  course,  so  he  said  at  once,  that  he  never 
could  drink  before  supper,  unless  a  lady  drank  with  him.  A  great  deal 
of  laughing  ensued,  and  then  Mrs.  Sanders  volunteered  to  humour  him, 
so  she  took  a  slight  sip  out  of  her  glass.  Then  Sam  said  it  must  go  all 
round,  so  they  all  took  a  slight  sip.  Then  little  Mrs.  Cluppins  pro- 
posed as  a  toast,  "Success  to  Bardell  against  Pickwick;"  and  then 
the  ladies  emptied  their  glasses  in  honour  of  the  sentiment,  and  got  very 
talkative  directly. 

"  I  suppose  you've  heard  what's  going  forward,  Mr.  W^eller,"  said 
Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  I've  heerd  somethin'  on  it,"  replied  Sara. 

"  It's  a  terrible  thing  to  be  dragged  before  the  public,  in  that  way, 
Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell ;  ''  but  I  see  now,  that  it's  the  only 
thing  I  ought  to  do,  and  my  lawyers,  Mr.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  tell 
rae  that,  with  the  evidence  as  we  shall  call,  we  must  succeed.  I  don't 
know  what  1  should  do,  Mr.  Weller,  if  I  didn't." 

The  mere  idea  of  Mrs.  Bardell's  failing  in  her  action,  aifected  Mrs. 
Sanders  so  deeply,  that  she  was  under  the  necessity  of  re-filling  and 
re-emptying  her  glass  immediately ;  feeling,  as  she  said  afterwards,  that 
if  she  hadn't  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  have  done  so,  she  must  have 
dropped. 

"  Ven  is  it  expected  to  come  on  ?  "  inquired  Sam. 

"  Either  in  February  or  March,"  replied  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"What  a  number  of  witnesses  there'll  be,  won't  there?"  said  Mrs. 
Cluppins. 

"  Ah,  won't  there  !  "  replied  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"  And  won't  Mr.  Dodson  and  Fogg  be  wild  if  the  plaintiff  shouldn't 
get  it  ?"  added  Mrs.  Cluppins,  "  when  they  do  it  all  on  speculation  !" 


274  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Ah  !  won't  they  I  "  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"  But  the  plaintiff  must  get  it,"  resumed  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  Oh,  there  can't  be  any  doubt  about  it,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"  Veil,"  said  Sam,  rising  and  setting  down  his  glass.  "  All  I  can 
say  is,  that  I  vish  you  may  get  it." 

«  Thanke'e,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  fervently. 

"  And  of  them  Dodson  and  Fogg,  as  does  these  sort  o'  things  on 
spec,"  continued  Mr.  Weller,  "  as  veil  as  for  the  other  kind  and  gen'- 
rous  people  o'  the  same  purfession,  as  sets  people  by  the  ears  free  gratis 
for  nothin',  and  sets  their  clerks  to  work  to  find  out  little  disputes 
among  their  neighbours  and  acquaintance  as  vants  settlin'  by  means  o' 
law-suits — all  I  can  say  o'  them  is,  that  I  vish  they  had  the  revard  I'd 
give  'era." 

•'  Ah,  I  wish  they  had  the  reward  that  every  kind  and  generous  heart 
would  be  inclined  to  bestow  upon  them,"  said  the  gratified  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  Amen  to  that,"  replied  Sam,  "  and  a  fat  and  happy  livin'  they'd 
get  out  of  it.     Vish  you  good  night,  ladies." 

To  the  great  relief  of  Mrs.  Sanders,  Sam  was  allowed  to  depart, 
without  any  reference  on  the  part  of  the  hostess  to  the  pettitoes  and 
toasted  cheese,  to  which  the  ladies,  with  such  juvenile  assistance  as 
Master  Bardell  could  afford,  soon  afterwards  rendered  the  amplest  justice 
— indeed  they  wholly  vanished,  before  their  strenuous  exertions. 

Mr.  Weller  wended  his  way  back  to  the  George  and  Vulture,  and 
faithfully  recounted  to  his  master,  such  indications  of  the  sharp  practice 
of  Dodson  and  Fogg,  as  he  had  contrived  to  pick  up  in  his  visit  to  Mrs. 
Bardell's.  An  interview  with  Mr.  Perker  next  day,  more  than  con- 
firmed Mr.  Weller's  statement ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  was  fain  to  prepare 
for  his  Christmas  visit  to  Dingley  Del),  with  the  pleasant  anticipation 
that  some  two  or  three  months  afterwards,  an  action  brought  against 
him  for  damages  sustained  by  reason  of  a  breach  of  promise  of  marriage, 
would  be  publicly  tried  in  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas  ;  the  plaintiff 
having  all  the  advantages  derivable  not  only  from  the  force  of  circum- 
stances, but  from  the  sharp  practice  of  Dodson  and  Fogg  to  boot. 


THE  PICKWICK   CLUB.  S7i 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SAMUEL   WELLER    MAKES   A    PILGRIMAGE    TO    DORKING,    AND 
BEHOLDS    HIS    MOTHER-IN-LAW. 

There  still  remaining  an  interval  of  two  days,  before  the  time  agreed 
upon,  for  the  departure  of  the  Pickwickians  to  Dingley  Dell,  Mr.  VVeller 
sat  himself  down  in  a  back  room  at  the  George  and  Vulture,  after  eating 
an  early  dinner,  to  muse  on  the  best  way  of  disposing  of  his  time.  It 
was  a  remarkably  fine  day ;  and  he  had  not  turned  the  matter  over  in 
his  mind  ten  minutes,  when  he  was  suddenly  struck  filial  and  affectionate  ; 
and  it  occurred  to  him  so  strongly  that  he  ought  to  go  down  to  see  hin 
father,  and  pay  his  duty  to  his  mother-in-law,  that  he  was  lost  in  aston- 
ishment at  his  own  remissness  in  never  thinking  of  this  moral  obligation 
before.  Anxious  to  atone  for  his  past  neglect  without  another  hour's 
delay,  he  straightway  walked  up  stairs  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  requested 
leave  of  absence  for  this  laudable  purpose. 

"  Certainly,  Sara,  certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  his  eyes  glistening 
with  delight  at  this  manifestation  of  good  feeling,  on  the  part  of  his  at- 
tendant; "certainly,  Sam." 

Mr.  Weller  made  a  grateful  bow. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  that  you  have  so  high  a  sense  of  your  duties 
as  a  son,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  I  always  had.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  That's  a  very  gratifying  reflection,  Sam,'*  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
approvingly. 

"  Wery,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  "  if  ever  I  vanted  anythin'  o'  my 
father,  I  always  asked  for  it  in  a  wery  'spectful  and  obligin'  manner.  If 
he  didn't  give  it  me,  I  took  it,  for  fear  I  should  be  led  to  do  anythin* 
wrong,  through  not  havin'  it.  I  saved  him  a  world  o'  trouble  this  vay, 
Sir." 

"  That's  not  precisely  what  I  meant,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
shaking  his  head,  with  a  slight  smile. 

♦'  All  good  feelin*,  Sir — the  wery  best  intentions,  as  the  gen'lm'n  said 
ven  he  run  away  from  his  vidfe,  'cos  she  seemed  unhappy  with  him," 
replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  You  may  go,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Thank'ee,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller ;  and  having  made  his  best 
bow,  and  put  on  his  best  clothes,  Sam  planted  himself  on  the  top  of  the 
Arundel  coach,  and  journeyed  on  to  Dorking. 

The  Marquis  of  Granby,  in  Mrs.  Weller's  time,  was  quite  a  model  of 
a  road-side  public-Louse  of  the  better  class — just  large  enough  to  be 
convenient,  and  small  enough  to  be  snug.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
road  was  a  large  sign-board  on  a  high  post,  representing  the  head  ant' 
shoulders  of  a  gentleman  with  an  apoplectic  countenance,  in  a  red  coat, 
with  deep  blue  facings,  and  a  touch  of  the  same  over  hid  three-cornered 

Y 


276  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

hat,  for  a  sky.  Over  that  again,  were  a  pair  of  flags,  and  beneath  the 
last  button  of  his  coat  were  a  couple  of  cannon  ;  and  the  whole  formed 
an  expressive  and  undoubted  likeness  of  the  Marquis  of  Granby  of 
glorious  memory.  The  bar  window  displayed  a  choice  collection  of 
geranium  plants,  and  a  well-dusted  row  of  spirit  phials.  The  open 
shutters  bore  a  variety  of  golden  inscriptions,  eulogistic  of  good  beds 
and  neat  wines ;  and  the  choice  group  of  countrymen  and  hostlers 
lounging  about  the  stable-door  and  horse-trough,  afforded  presumptive 
proof  of  the  excellent  quality  of  the  ale  and  spirits  which  were  sold 
within.  Sam  Weller  paused,  when  he  dismounted  from  the  coach,  to 
note  all  these  little  indications  of  a  thriving  business,  with  the  eye  of 
an  experienced  traveller ;  and  having  done  so,  stepped  in  at  once,  highly 
satisfied  with  everything  he  had  observed. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  a  shrill  female  voice,  the  instant  Sam  thrust  in 
bis  head  at  the  door,  "  what  do  you  want,  young  man  ?  " 

Sam  looked  round  in  the  direction  whence  the  voice  proceeded.  It 
came  from  a  rather  stout  lady  of  comfortable  appearance,  who  was  seated 
beside  the  fire-place  in  the  bar,  blowing  the  fire  to  make  the  kettle  boil 
for  tea.  She  was  not  alone,  for  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire-place,  sitting 
bolt  upright  in  a  high-backed  chair,  was  a  man  in  thread-bare  black 
clothes,  with  a  back  almost  as  long  and  stiff  as  that  of  the  chair  itself, 
who  caught  Sam's  most  particular  and  especial  attention  at  once. 

He  was  a  prim-faced,  red-nosed  man,  with  a  long  thin  countenance 
and  a  semi-rattlesnake  sort  of  eye — rather  sharp,  but  decidedly  bad.  He 
wore  very  short  trousers,  and  black-cotton  stockings,  which,  like  the 
rest  of  his  apparel,  were  particularly  rusty.  His  looks  were  starched, 
but  his  white  neckerchief  was  not ;  and  its  long  limp  ends  straggled  over 
his  closely-buttoned  waistcoat  in  a  very  uncouth  and  unpicturesque 
fashion.  A  pair  of  old,  worn,  beaver  gloves,  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  and 
a  faded  green  umbrella,  with  plenty  of  whalebone  sticking  through  the 
bottom,  as  if  to  counterbalance  the  want  of  a  handle  at  the  top,  lay  on 
a  chair  beside  him  ;  and  being  disposed  in  a  very  tidy  and  careful  man- 
ner, seemed  to  imply  that  the  red-nosed  man,  whoever  he  was,  had  no 
intention  of  going  away  in  a  hurry. 

To  do  the  red-nosed  man  justice,  he  would  have  been  very  far  from 
wise  if  he  had  entertained  any  such  intention,  for,  to  judge  from  all  ap- 
pearances, he  must  have  been  possessed  of  a  most  desirable  circle  of  ac- 
quaintance, if  he  could  have  reasonably  expected  to  be  more  comfortable 
anywhere  else.  The  fire  was  blazing  brightly,  under  the  influence  of 
the  bellows,  and  the  kettle  was  singing  gaily,  under  the  influence  of 
both.  A  small  tray  of  tea-things  was  arranged  on  the  table  ;  a  plate 
of  hot  buttered  toast  was  gently  simmering  before  the  fire ;  and  the 
red-nosed  man  himself  was  busily  engaged  in  converting  a  large  slice 
of  bread,  into  the  same  agreeable  edible,  through  the  instrumentality  of 
a  long  brass  toasting-fork.  Beside  him,  stood  a  glass  of  reeking  hot 
pine-apple  rum  and  water,  with  a  slice  of  lemon  in  it :  and  every  time 
the  red-nosed  man  stopped  to  bring  the  round  of  bread  to  his  eye,  with 
the  view  of  ascertaining  how  it  got  on,  he  imbibed  a  drop  or  two  of  the 
hot  pine-apple  rum  and  water,  and  smiled  upon  the  rather  stout  lady,  as 
she  blew  the  fire. 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB.  277 

Sam  was  so  lost  in  the  contemplation  of  this  comfortable  scene,  that 
he  suffered  the  first  inquiry  of  the  rather  stout  lady  to  pass  wholly  un- 
heeded. It  was  not  until  it  had  been  twice  repeated,  each  time  in  a 
shriller  tone,  that  he  became  conscious  of  the  impropriety  of  his 
behaviour. 

"  Governor  in  ?"  inquired  Sam,  in  reply  to  the  question. 

•*  No,  he  isn't,"  replied  Mrs.  Weller,  for  the  rather  stout  lady  was 
no  other  than  the  quondam  relict  and  sole  executrix  of  the  dead-and- 
gone  Mr.  Clarke ; — "  No,  he  isn't,  and  I  don't  expect  him,  either." 

**  I  suppose  he's  a  drivin'  up  to-day?"  said  Sam. 

"  He  may  be,  or  he  may  not,"  replied  Mrs.  Weller,  buttering  the 
round  of  toast  which  the  red-nosed  man  had  just  finished,  "  I  don't 
know,  and,  what's  more,  I  don't  care.     Ask  a  blessin',  Mr.  Stiggins." 

The  red-nosed  man  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  instantly  commenced 
on  the  toast  with  fierce  voracity. 

The  appearance  of  the  red-nosed  man  had  induced  Sam,  at  first  sight, 
to  more  than  half  suspect  that  he  was  the  deputy  shepherd,  of  whom 
his  estimable  parent  had  spoken.  The  moment  he  saw  him  eat,  all 
doubt  on  the  subject  was  removed,  and  he  perceived  at  once  that  if  he 
proposed  to  take  up  his  temporary  quarters  where  he  was,  he  must  make 
his  footing  good  without  delay.  He  therefore  commenced  proceedings 
by  putting  his  arm  over  the  half-door  of  the  bar,  coolly  unbolting  it, 
and  leisurely  walking  in. 

"  Mother-in-law,"  said  Sam,  "  how  are  you?" 

"  Why,  I  do  believe  he  is  a  Welier,"  said  Mrs.  W.,  raising  her  eyes 
to  Sam's  face,  with  no  very  gratified  expression  of  countenance. 

"  I  rayther  think  he  is,"  said  the  imperturbable  Sam  ;  "  and  I  hope 
this  here  reverend  genlm'n  *11  excuse  me  saying  that  I  wish  I  was  the 
Weller  as  owns  you,  mother-in-law." 

This  was  a  double-barrelled  compliment :  it  implied  that  Mrs.  Weller 
was  a  most  agreeable  female,  and  also  that  Mr.  Stiggins  had  a  clerical 
appearance.  It  made  a  visible  impression  at  once  ;  and  Sam  followed 
up  his  advantage  by  kissing  his  mother-in-law. 

"  Get  along  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Weller,  pushing  him  away. 

"  For  shame,  young  man,"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  red  nose. 

"  No  offence.  Sir,  no  offence,"  replied  Sam ;  "  you're  wery  right, 
though ;  it  ain't  the  right  sort  o'  thing,  ven  mothers-in-law  is  young 
and  good  looking,  is  it,  Sir  ?  " 

"  It's  all  vanity,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins. 

"  Ah,  so  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Weller,  setting  her  cap  to  rights. 

Sam  thought  it  was,  too,  but  he  held  his  peace. 

The  deputy  shepherd  seemed  by  no  means  best  pleased  with  Sam's 
arrival ;  and  when  the  first  effervescence  of  the  compliment  had  sub- 
sided, even  Mrs.  Weller  looked  as  if  she  could  have  spared  him  without 
the  smallest  inconvenience.  However,  there  he  was  ;  and  as  he  couldn't 
be  decently  turned  out,  they  all  three  sat  down  to  tea. 

"  And  how's  father  ?"  said  Sam. 

At  this  inquiry,  Mrs.  Weller  raised  her  hands,  and  turned  up  her 
eyes,  as  if  the  subject  were  too  painful  to  be  alluded  to./ 

t2 


278  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OP 

Mr.  Stig'gins  groaned. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  that  'ere  gen'lm'n  ?  *'  inquired  Sam. 

"  He's  shocked  at  the  way  your  father  goes  on,  in — "  replied  Mrs, 
Waller. 

"  Oh,  he  is,  is  he?"  said  Sam. 

"  And  with  too  good  reason,"  added  Mrs.  Weller,  gravely. 

Mr.  Stiggins  took  up  a  fresh  piece  of  toast,  and  groaned  heavily. 

"  He  is  a  dreadful  reprobate,"  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

"  A  man  of  wrath  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Stiggins.  And  he  took  a  large 
semi-circular  bite  out  of  the  toast,  and  groaned  again. 

Sam  felt  very  strongly  disposed  to  give  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins 
something  to  groan  for,  but  he  repressed  his  inclination,  and  merely 
asked,  *'  What's  the  old  'un  up  to,  now  ?" 

"Up  to,  indeed!"  said  Mrs.  Weller,  **  oh,  he  has  a  hard  heart. 
Night  after  night  does  this  excellent  man — don't  frown,  Mr.  Stiggins, 
I  will  say  you  are  an  excellent  man — come  and  sit  here,  for  hours  to- 
gether, and  it  has  not  the  least  effect  upon  him." 

"  Well,  that  is  odd,"  said  Sam ;  "  it  'ud  have  a  wery  considerable 
effect  upon  me,  if  I  wos  in  his  place,  I  know  that." 

**  The  fact  is,  my  young  friend,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  solemnly,  "  he 
has  an  obderrate  bosom.  Oh,  my  young  friend,  who  else  could  have 
resisted  the  pleading  of  sixteen  of  our  fairest  sisters,  and  withstood 
their  exhortations  to  subscribe  to  our  noble  society  for  providing  the 
infant  negroes  in  the  West  Indies  with  flannel  waistcoats  and  moral 
pocket  handkerchiefs  ?  " 

"  What's  a  moral  pocket  ankercher  ?"  said  Sam;  "  I  never  see  one 
o'  them  articles  o'  furniter." 

"  Those  which  combine  amusement  with  instruction,  my  young 
friend,"  replied  Mr.  Stiggins,  *'  blending  select  tales  with  wood-cuts." 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  said  Sam,  "  them  as  hangs  up  in  the  linen-drapers* 
shops,  with  beggars'  petitions  and  all  that  'ere  upon  'em  ?  " 

Mr.  Stiggins  began  a  third  round  of  toast,  and  nodded  assent. 

"  And  he  wouldn't  be  persuaded  by  the  ladies,  wouldn't  he?"  said 
Sam. 

"  Sat  and  smoked  his  pipe,  and  said  the  infant  negroes  were — what 
did  he  say  the  infant  negroes  were  ?"  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

"  Little  humbugs,"  replied  Mr.  Stiggins,  deeply  affected. 

"  Said  the  infant  negroes  were  little  humbugs,"  repeated  Mrs.  Weller. 
And  they  both  groaned  at  the  atrocious  conduct  of  the  elder  Mr. 
Samuel. 

A  great  many  more  iniquities  of  a  similar  nature  might  have  been 
disclosed,  only  the  toast  being  all  eat,  the  tea  having  got  very  weak, 
and  Sam  holding  out  no  indications  of  meaning  to  go,  Mr.  Stiggins 
suddenly  recollected  that  he  had  a  most  pressing  appointment  with  the 
shepherd,  and  took  himself  off  accordingly. 

The  tea-things  had  been  scarcely  put  away,  and  the  hearth  swept  up, 
when  the  London  coach  deposited  Mr.  Weller  senior  at  the  door,  hili* 
legs  deposited  him  in  the  bar,  and  his  eyes  shewed  him  his  son 

"  What,  Sammy ! "  exclaimed  the  father 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  279 

"What,  old  Nobs!"  ejaculated  the  son.  And  they  shook  bands 
heartily. 

*'  Wery  glad  to  see  you,  Sammy,"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  "  though 
how  youVe  managed  to  get  over  your  mother-in-law,  is  a  mystery  to 
me.     I  only  vish  you'd  write  me  out  the  receipt,  that's  all." 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Sam,  "  she's  at  home,  old  feller." 

"  She  ain't  vithin  hearin',"  replied  Mr.  Weller ;  "  she  always  goes 
and  blows  up,  down  stairs,  for  a  couple  of  hours  arter  tea;  so  we'll  just 
give  ourselves  a  damp,  Sammy." 

Saying  this,  Mr.  Weller  mixed  two  glasses  of  spirits  and  water,  and 
produced  a  couple  of  pipes  ;  and  the  father  and  son  sitting  down  oppo- 
site each  other,  Sam  on  one  side  the  fire,  in  the  high-hacked  chair,  and 
Mr.  Weller  senior  on  the  other,  in  an  easy  ditto,  they  proceeded  to 
enjoy  themselves  with  all  due  gravity. 

"  Anybody  been  here,  Sammy  ? "  asked  Mr.  Weller  senior,  drily, 
after  a  long  silence. 

Sam  nodded  an  Cfxpressive  assent. 

"  Red-nosed  chap  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

Sam  nodded  again. 

"  Amiable  man  that  'ere,  Sammy,'*  said  Mr.  Weller,  smoking 
▼iolently. 

"  Seems  so/*  observed  Sam. 

"  Good  hand  at  accounts,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"Is  he?"  said  Sam. 

"  Borrows  eighteenpence  on  Monday,  and  comes  on  Tuesday  for  a 
shillin*  to  make  it  up  half  a  crown ;  calls  again  on  Vensday  for  another 
half  crown  to  make  it  five  shillin's,  and  goes  on,  doubling,  till  he  gets  it 
tip  to  a  five  pund  note  in  no  time,  like  them  sums  in  the  'rithmetic 
bo6k  'bout  the  nails  in  the  horse's  shoes,  Sammy." 

Sam  intimated  by  a  nod  that  he  recollected  the  problem  alluded  to  by 
his  parent. 

"  So  you  vouldn't  subscribe  to  the  flannel  veskits?"  said  Sam,  afi;er 
another  interval  of  smoking. 

"  Cert'nly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Weller ;  "  what's  the  good  o*  flannel 
veskits  to  the  young  niggers  abroad  ?  But  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is, 
Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  lowering  his  voice,  and  bending  across  the 
fire-place,  **  I'd  come  down  wery  handsome  towards  straight  veskits  for 
some  people  at  home." 

As  Mr.  Weller  said  this,  he  slowly  recovered  his  former  position,  and 
winked  at  his  first-born,  in  a  profound  manner. 

"  It  cert'nly  seems  a  queer  start  to  send  out  pocket  ankechers  to 
people  as  don't  know  the  use  on  'em,"  observed  Sam. 

"  They're  alvays  a  doin'  some  gammon  of  that  sort,  Sammy,"  replied 
his  father.  "  T'other  Sunday  I  vas  walkin'  up  the  road,  ven  who 
should  I  see  a  standin'  at  a  chapel-door,  with  a  blue  soup-plate  in  her 
hand,  but  your  mother-in-law.  I  werily  believe  there  was  change  for  a 
couple  o'  suv'rins  in  it,  then,  Sammy,  all  in  ha'pence  ;  and  as  the  people 
come  out,  they  rattled  the  pennies  in,  till  you'd  ha  thought  that  no 


280  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS   Of 

mortal  plate  as  ever  was  baked,  could  ha'  stood  the  wear  and  tear.   What 
d'ye  think  it  was  all  for?" 

"  For  another  tea-drinkin*,  perhaps,"  said  Sam. 

"  Not  a  bit  on  it,"  replied  the  father ;  "  for  the  shepherd's  water- 
rate,  Sammy." 

"  The  shepherd's  water-rate!"  said  Sam. 

"  Ay,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  "  there  was  three  quarters  owin*,  and  the 
shepherd  hadn't  paid  a  farden,  not  he — perhaps  it  might  be  on  account 
that  the  water  warn't  o'  much  use  to  him,  for  it's  wery  little  o*  that  tap 
he  drinks,  Sammy,  wery  ;  he  knows  a  trick  worth  a  good  half  dozen  of 
that,  he  does.  Hows'ever,  it  warn't  paid,  and  so  they  cuts  the  water  off. 
Down  goes  the  shepherd  to  chapel,  gives  out  as  he's  a  persecuted  saint, 
and  says  he  hopes  the  heart  of  the  turncock  as  cut  the  water  off,  '11  be 
softened,  and  turned  in  the  right  vay,  but  he  rayther  thinks  he  s  booked 
for  somethin'  uncomfortable.  Upon  this,  the  women  calls  a  meetin', 
sings  a  hymn,  wotes  your  mother-in-law  into  the  chair,  wolunteers  a 
col-lection  next  Sunday,  and  hands  it  all  over  to  ^e  shepherd.  And 
if  he  ain't  got  enough  out  on  'em,  Sammy,  to  make  him  free  of  the 
water  company  for  life,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  conclusion,  "  I'm  one 
Dutchman,  and  you're  another,  and  that's  all  about  it." 

Mr.  Weller  smoked  for  some  minutes  in  silence,  and  then  resumed — 

"  The  worst  o'  these  here  shepherds  is,  my  boy,  that  they  reg'larly 
turns  the  heads  of  all  the  young  ladies,  about  here.  Lord  bless  their 
little  hearts,  they  thinks  it's  all  right,  and  don't  know  no  better ;  but 
they're  the  wictims  o'  gammon,  Samivel,  they're  the  wictims  o'  gammon." 

"  I  s'pose  they  are,"  said  Sam. 

"  Nothin'  else,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  shaking  his  head  gravely ;  "  and 
wot  aggrawates  me,  Samivel,  is  to  see  'em  a  wastin'  all  their  time  and 
labour  in  making  clothes  for  copper-coloured  people  as  don't  want  'em, 
and  taking  no  notice  of  the  fle«>^-coloured  Christians  as  do.  If  I'd  my 
vay,  Samivel,  I'd  just  stick  some  o'  these  here  lazy  shepherds  behind  a 
heavy  wheelbarrow,  and  run  'em  up  and  down  a  fourteen-inch-wide 
plank  all  day.  That  'ud  shake  the  nonsense  out  of  'em,  if  anythin* 
vould." 

Mr.  Weller  having  delivered  this  gentle  recipe  with  strong  emphasis, 
eked  out  by  a  variety  of  nods  and  contortions  of  the  eye,  emptied  his 
glass  at  a  draught,  and  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  with  native 
dignity. 

He  was  engaged  in  this  operation,  when  a  shrill  voice  was  heard  in 
the  passage. 

"  Here's  your  dear  relation,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller ;  and  Mrs.  W. 
hurried  into  the  room. 

"  Oh,  you've  come  back,  have  you  I "  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  filling  a  fresh  pipe. 

«  Has  Mr.  Stiggins  been  back  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

"  No,  my  dear,  he  hasn't,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  lighting  the  pipe  by 
the  ingenious  process  of  holding  to  the  bowl  thereof,  between  the  tongs, 
a  red-hot  coal  from  the  adjacent  fire ;  "  and  what's  more,  nay  dear,  I 
shall  manage  to  surwive  it,  if  he  don't  come  hack  at  all." 


I, 


THE    PICKWICK   CJ-UB.  2B1 

"  Ugh,  you  wretch,"  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

"  Thank'ee,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Come,  come,  father,"  said  Sam,  "  none  o'  these  little  levin's  afore 
|ftrangers.     Here's  the  reverend  gen'lm'n  a  comin'  in  now." 

At  this  announcement,  Mrs.  Weller  hastily  wiped  off  the  tears  which 
'she  had  just  begun  to  force  on;  and  Mr.  W.  drew  his  chair  sullenly 
into  the  chimney  corner. 

Mr.  Stiggins  was  easily  prevailed  on,  to  take  another  glass  of  the  hot 
>ine-apple  rum  and  water,  and  a  second,  and  a  third,  and  then  to  refresh 
limself  with  a  slight  supper,  previous  to  beginning  again.  He  sat  on 
the  same  side  as  Mr.  Weller  senior ;  and  every  time  he  could  contrive 
to  do  so,  unseen  by  his  wife,  that  gentleman  indicated  to  his  son  the 
hidden  emotions  of  his  bosom,  by  shaking  his  fist  over  the  deputy 
shepherd's  head,  a  process  which  afforded  his  son  the  most  unmingled 
delight  and  satisfaction,  the  more  especially  as  Mr.  Stiggins  went  on, 
quietly  drinking  the  hot  pine-apple  rum  and  water,  wholly  unconscious 
of  what  was  going  forward. 

The  major  part  of  the  conversation  was  confined  to  Mrs.  Weller  and 
the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins  ;  and  the  topics  principally  descanted  on,  were 
the  virtues  of  the  shepherd,  the  worthiness  of  his  flock,  and  the  high 
crimes  and  misdemeanours  of  everybody  beside — dissertations  which  the 
elder  Mr.  Weller  occasionally  interrupted  by  half-suppressed  references 
to  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Walker,  and  other  running  commentaries 
of  the  same  kind. 

At  length  Mr.  Stiggins,  with  several  most  indubitable  symptoms  of 
having  quite  as  much  pine-apple  rum  and  water  about  him,  as  he  could 
comfortably  accommodate,  took  his  hat  and  his  leave  :  and  Sam  was,  im- 
mediately afterwards,  shewn  to  bed  by  his  father.  The  respectable  old 
gentleman  wrung  his  hand  fervently,  and  seemed  disposed  to  address 
some  observations  to  his  son,  but  on  Mrs.  Weller  advancing  towards 
him,  he  appeared  to  relinquish  his  intention,  and  abruptly  bade  him 
good  night. 

Sam  was  up  betimes  next  day,  and  having  partaken  of  a  hasty  break- 
fast, prepared  to  return  to  London.  He  had  scarcely  set  foot  without 
the  house,  when  his  father  stood  before  him. 

"  Goin',  Sammy  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Off  at  once,"  replied  Sam. 

"  I  vish  you  could  muffle  that  'ere  Stiggins,  and  take  him  with  you," 
said  Mr.  Weller. 

<*  I  am  ashamed  o*"  you,  old  two-for-his-heels,"  said  Sam,  reproach- 
fully, "  what  do  you  let  him  shew  his  red  nose  in  the  Markis  o'  Granby 
at  all,  for?" 

Mr.  Weller  the  elder  fixed  on  his  son  an  earnest  look,  and  replied — 
"  'Cause  I'm  a  married  man,  Samivel,  'cause  I'm  a  married  man. 
Ven  you're  a  married  man,  Samivel,  you'll  understand  a  good  many 
things  as  you  don't  understand  now ;  but  vether  it's  worth  while  goin' 
through  so  much,  to  learn  so  little,  as  the  charity-boy  said  ven  he  got 
to  the  end  of  the  alphabet,  is  a  matter  o  taste.  /  rayther  think  it 
isn't.'' 


282  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Well,"  said  Sam,  "  good  bye." 

"  Tar,  tar,  Sammy,"  replied  his  father. 

"  I've  only  got  to  say  this  here,"  said  Sam,  stopping  short,  "  that  if 
/  was  the  properiator  o'  the  Markis  o'  Granby,  and  that  'ere  Stiggins 
came  and  made  toast  in  my  bar,  I'd — " 

"  What  ?"  interposed  Mr.  Weller,  with  great  anxiety.     "  What  ?  " 

"  — Pison  his  rum  and  water,"  said  Sam. 

"  No  I"  said  Mr.  Weller,  shaking  his  son  eagerly  by  the  hand, 
"  would  you  raly,  Sammy — would  you,  though  ?" 

"  I  would,"  said  Sam.  "  I  wouldn't  be  too  hard  upon  him,  at  first : 
I'd  just  drop  him  in  the  water-butt,  and  put  the  lid  on  ;  and  then  if  I 
found  he  was  insensible  to  kindness,  I'd  try  the  other  persvasion." 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller  bestowed  a  look  of  deep,  unspeakable  admira- 
tion on  his  son,  and,  having  once  more  grasped  his  hand,  walked  slowly 
away,  revolving  in  his  mind  the  numerous  reflections  to  which  his  advice 
had  given  rise. 

Sam  looked  after  him,  till  he  turned  a  corner  of  the  road,  and  then 
set  forward  on  his  walk  to  London.  He  meditated  at  first  on  the  pro- 
bable consequences  of  his  own  advice,  and  the  likelihood  and  unlike- 
lihood of  his  father's  adopting  it.  He  dismissed  the  subject  from  his 
mind,  however,  with  the  consolatory  reflection  that  time  alone  would 
shew ;  and  this  is  just  the  reflection  we  woula  impress  upon  the  reader.  ' 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


A  GOOD-HUMOURED  CHRISTMAS  CHAPTER,  CONTAINING  AN  AC- 
COUNT OF  A  WEDDING,  AND  SOME  OTHER  SPORTS  BESIDE, 
■WHICH  ALTHOUGH  IN  THEIR  WAY,  EVEN  AS  GOOD  CUSTOMS 
AS  MARRIAGE  ITSELF,  ARE  NOT  QUITE  SO  RELIGIOUSLY  KEPT 
UP,    IN    THESE   DEGENERATE    TIMES. 

As  brisk  as  bees,  if  not  altogether  as  light  as  fairies,  did  the  four 
Pickwickians  assemble  on  the  morning  of  the  twenty-second  day  of 
December,  in  the  year  of  grace  in  which  these,  their  faithfully-recorded 
adventures,  were  undertaken  and  accomplished.  Christmas  was  close 
at  hand,  in  all  his  blufi"  and  hearty  honesty;  it  was  the  season  of 
hospitality,  merriment,  and  open-heartedness ;  the  old  year  was  pre- 
paring, like  an  ancient  philosopher,  to  call  his  friends  around  him,  and 
amidst  the  sound  of  feasting  and  revelry  to  pass  gently  and  calmly  away. 
Gay  and  merry  was  the  time ;  and  right  gay  and  merry  were  at  least 
four  of  the  numerous  hearts  that  were  gladdened  by  its  coming. 

And  numerous  indeed  are  the  hearts  to  which  Christmas  brings  a 
brief  season  of  happiness  and  enjoyment.  How  many  families  whose 
members  have  been  dispersed  and  scattered  far  and  wide,  in  the  restless 
struggles  of  life,  are  then  re- united,  and  meet  once  again  in  that  happy 
state  of  companionship  and  mutual  good-will,  which  is  a  source  of  such 
pure  and  unalloyed  delight,  and  one  so  incompatible  with  the  cares  and 


4 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  S83 

sorrows  of  the  world,  that  the  religious  belief  of  the  most  civilised 
nations,  and  the  rude  traditions  of  the  roughest  savages,  alike  number 
it  among  the  first  joys  of  a  future  state  of  existence,  provided  for  the 
blest  and  happy  I  How  many  old  recollections,  and  how  many  dor- 
mant, sympathies,  does  Christmas  time  awaken  ! 

We  write  these  words  now,  many  miles  distant  from  the  spot  at  which, 
year  after  year,  we  met  on  that  (^ay,  a  merry  and  joyous  circle.  Many 
of  the  hearts  that  throbbed  so  gaily  then,  have  ceased  to  beat ;  many  of 
the  looks  that  shone  so  brightly  then,  have  ceased  to  glow ;  the  hands 
we  grasped,  have  grown  cold  ;  the  eyes  we  sought,  have  hid  their  lustre 
in  the  grave ;  and  yet  the  old  house,  the  room,  the  merry  voices  and 
smiling  faces,  the  jest,  the  laugh,  the  most  minute  and  trivial  circum- 
stance connected  witL.  those  happy  meetings,  crowd  upon  our  mind  at 
each  recurrence  of  the  season,  as  if  the  last  assemblage  had  been  but 
yesterday.  Happy,  happy  Christmas,  that  can  win  us  back  to  the 
delusions  of  our  childish  days,  that  can  recal  to  the  old  man  the  pleasures 
of  his  youth,  and  transport  the  sailor  and  the  traveller,  thousands  of 
miles  away,  back  to  his  own  lire-side  and  his  quiet  home  ! 

But  we  are  so  taken  up,  and  occupied,  v/ith  the  good  qualities  of 
Christmas,  who,  by  the  way,  is  quite  a  country  gentleman  of  the  old 
school,  that  we  are  keeping  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  waiting  in  the 
cold,  on  the  outside  of  the  Muggleton  coach,  which  they  have  just 
attained,  well  wrapped  up,  in  great  coats,  shawls,  and  comforters.  The 
portmanteaus  and  carpet-bags  have  been  stowed  away,  and  Mr.  Weller 
and  the  guard  are  endeavouring  to  insinuate  into  the  fore-boot  a  huge 
cod-fish  several  sizes  too  large  for  it,  which  is  snugly  packed  up,  in  a 
long  brown  basket,  with  a  layer  of  straw  over  the  top,  and  which  has 
been  left  to  the  last,  in  order  that  he  may  repose  in  safety  on  the  half- 
dozen  barrels  of  real  native  oysters,  all  the  property  of  Mr.  Pickwick, 
which  have  been  arranged  in  regular  order,  at  the  bottom  of  the  recep- 
tacle. The  interest  displayed  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance  is  most 
intense,  as  Mr.  Weller  and  the  guard  try  to  squeeze  the  cod-fish  into 
the  boot,  first  head  first,  and  then  tail  first,  and  then  top  upwards,  and 
then  bottom  upwards,  and  then  side-ways,  and  then  long-ways,  all  of 
which  artifices  the  implacable  cod-fish  sturdily  resists,  until  the  guard 
accidentally  hits  him  in  the  very  middle  of  the  basket,  whereupon  he 
suddenly  disappears  into  the  boot,  and  with  him,  the  head  and  shoulders 
of  the  guard  himself,  who,  not  calculating  upon  so  sudden  a  cessation 
of  the  passive  resistance  of  the  cod-fish,  experiences  a  very  unexpected 
shock,  to  the  unsmotherable  delight  of  all  the  porters  and  by-standers. 
Upon  this,  Mr.  Pickwick  smiles  with  great  good  humour,  and  drawing 
a  shilling  from  his  waistcoat  pocket,  begs  the  guard,  as  he  picks  himself 
out  of  the  boot,  to  drink  his  health  in  a  glass  of  hot  brandy  and  water, 
at  which,  the  guard  smiles  too,  and  Messrs.  Snodgrass,  Winkle,  and 
Tupman,  all  smile  in  company.  The  guard  and  Mr.  Weller  disappear 
for  five  minutes,  most  probably  to  get  the  hot  brandy  and  water,  for 
they  smell  very  strongly  of  it,  when  they  return,  the  coachman  mounts 
to  the  box,  Mr.  Weller  jumps  up  behind,  the  Pickwickians  pull  their 
coats  round  their  legs,  and  their  shawls  over  their  noses ;  the  helpers 


284 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


pull  the  Lorse-cloths  off,  the  coachman  shouts  out  a  cheery  "  All  right," 
and  away  they  go. 

They  have  rumbled  through  the  streets,  and  jolted  over  the  stones, 
and  at  length  reach  the  wide  and  open  country.  The  wheels  skim  over 
the  hard  and  frosty  ground ;  and  the  horses,  bursting  into  a  canter  at  a 
smart  crack  of  the  whip,  step  along  the  road  as  if  the  load  behind  them, 
coach,  passengers,  cod-fish,  oyster  barrels,  and  all,  were  but  a  feather  at 
their  heels.  They  have  descended  a  gentle  slope,  and  enter  upon  a 
level,  as  compact  and  dry  as  a  solid  block  of  marble,  two  miles  long. 
Another  crack  of  the  whip,  and  on  they  speed,  at  a  smart  gallop,  the 
horses  tossing  their  heads  and  rattling  the  harness  as  if  in  exhilaration 
at  the  rapidity  of  the  mocion,  while  the  coachman  holding  whip  and 
rems  in  one  hand,  takes  off  his  hat  with  the  other,  and  resting  it  on  his 
knees,  pulls  out  his  handkerchief,  and  wipes  his  forehead,  partly  because 
he  has  a  habit  of  doing  it,  and  partly  because  it*s  as  well  to  shew  the 
passengers  how  cool  he  is,  and  what  an  easy  thing  it  is  to  drive  four-in- 
hand,  when  you  have  had  as  much  practice  as  he  has.  Having  done 
this  very  leisurely  (otherwise  the  effect  would  be  materially  impaired), 
he  replaces  his  handkerchief,  pulls  on  his  hat,  adjusts  his  gloves,  squares 
his  elbows,  cracks  the  whip  again,  and  on  they  speed,  more  merrily 
than  before. 

A  few  small  houses  scattered  on  either  side  of  the  road,  betoken  the 
entrance  to  some  town  or  village.  The  lively  notes  of  the  guard's  key 
bugle  vibrate  in  the  clear  cold  air,  and  wake  up  the  old  gentleman 
inside,  who  carefully  letting  down  the  window-sash  half  way,  and 
standing  sentry  over  the  air,  takes  a  short  peep  out,  and  then  carefully 
pulling  it  up  again,  informs  the  other  inside  that  they're  going  to  change 
directly  ;  on  which  the  other  inside  wakes  himself  up,  and  determines  to 
postpone  his  next  nap  until  after  the  stoppage.  Again  the  bugle  sounds 
lustily  forth,  and  rouses  the  cottager's  wife  and  children,  who  peep  out 
at  the  house-door,  and  watch  the  coach  till  it  turns  the  corner,  when  they 
once  more  crouch  round  the  blazing  fire,  and  throw  on  another  log  of 
wood  against  father  comes  home,  while  father  himself,  a  full  mile  off, 
has  just  exchanged  a  friendly  nod  with  the  coachman,  and  turned  round, 
to  take  a  good  long  stare  at  the  vehicle  as  it  whirls  away. 

And  now  the  bugle  plays  a  lively  air  as  the  coach  rattles  through  the 
ill-paved  streets  of  a  country  town ;  and  the  coachman,  undoing  the 
buckle  which  keeps  his  ribands  together,  prepares  to  throw  them  off  the 
moment  he  stops.  Mr.  Pickwick  emerges  from  his  coat  collar,  and 
looks  about  him  with  great  curiosity ;  perceiving  which,  the  coachman 
informs  Mr.  Pickwick  of  the  nam«  of  the  town,  and  tells  him  it  was 
market-day  yesterday,  both  which  pieces  of  information  Mr.  Pickwick 
retails  to  his  fellow-passengers,  whereupon  they  emerge  from  their  coat 
collars  too,  and  look  about  them  also.  Mr.  Winkle,  who  sits  at  the 
extreme  edge,  with  one  leg  dangling  in  the  air,  is  nearly  precipitated 
into  the  street,  as  the  coach  twists  round  the  sharp  corner  by  the  cheese- 
monger's shop,  and  turn«  into  the  market-place  ;  and  before  Mr.  Snod- 
grass,  who  sits  next  to  him,  has  recovered  from  his  alarm,  they  pull  up 
Rt  the  inn  yard,  where  the  fresh  horses,  with  cloths  on,  are  already 


THE   PICKWICK  CLUB.  285 

waiting.  The  coachman  throws  down  the  reins  and  gets  down  himself, 
and  the  other  outside  passengers  drop  down  also,  except  those  who  have 
no  great  confidence  in  their  ability  to  get  up  again,  and  they  remain 
where  they  are,  and  stamp  their  feet  against  the  coach  to  warm  them  ; 
looking  with  longing  eyes  and  red  noses  at  the  bright  fire  in  the  inn 
bar,  and  the  sprigs  of  holly  with  red  berries  which  ornament  the 
window. 

But  the  guard  has  delivered  at  the  corn-dealer's  shop,  the  brown  paper 
packet  he  took  out  of  the  little  pouch  which  hangs  over  his  shoulder 
by  a  leathern  strap,  and  has  seen  the  horses  carefully  put  to,  and  has 
thrown  on  the  pavement  the  saddle  which  was  brought  from  Londo-n  on 
the  coach-roof,  and  has  assisted  in  the  conference  between  the  coachman 
and  the  hostler  about  the  grey  mare  that  hurt  her  olf-fore-leg  last  Tuesday, 
and  he  and  Mr.  Weller  are  all  right  behind,  and  the  coachman  is  all  right 
in  front,  and  the  old  gentleman  inside,  who  has  kept  the  window  down 
full  two  inches  all  this  time,  has  pulled  it  up  again,  and  the  cloths  are 
off,  and  they  are  all  ready  for  starting,  except  the  **  two  stout  gentle- 
men," whom  the  coachman  enquires  after  with  some  impatience.  Here- 
upon the  coachman,  and  the  guard,  and  Sam  Weller,  and  Mr.  Winkle, 
and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  all  the  hostlers,  and  every  one  of  the  idlers, 
who  are  more  in  number  than  all  the  others  put  together,  shout  for  the 
missing  gentlemen  as  loud  as  they  can  bawl.  A  distant  response  is 
heard  from  the  yard,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman  come  running 
down  it,  quite  out  of  breath,  for  they  have  been  having  a  glass  of  ale 
a-piece,  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  fingers  are  so  cold  that  he  has  been  full  five 
minutes  before  he  could  find  the  sixpence  to  pay  for  it.  The  coachman 
shouts  an  admonitory  *'  Now,  then,  gen'lm'n,"  the  guard  re-choes  it — 
the  old  gentleman  inside,  thinks  it  a  very  extraordinary  thing  that 
people  rvill  get  down  when  they  know  there  isn't  time  for  it — Mr.  Pick- 
wick struggles  up  on  one  side,  Mr.  Tupman  on  the  other,  Mr.  Winkle 
cries  '*  All  right,"  and  oif  they  start.  Shawls  are  pulled  up,  coat  collars 
are  re-adjusted,  the  pavement  ceases,  the  houses  disappear ;  and  they  are 
once  again  dashing  along  the  open  road,  with  the  fresh  clear  air  blowing 
in  their  faces,  and  gladdening  their  very  hearts  within  them. 

Such  was  the  progress  of  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  by  the  Mug- 
gleton  Telegraph,  on  their  way  to  Dingley  Dell ;  and  at  three  o'clock 
that  afternoon,  they  all  stood,  high  and  dry,  safe  and  sound,  hale  and 
hearty,  upon  the  steps  of  the  Blue  Lion,  having  taken  on  the  road  quite 
enough  of  ale  and  brandy,  to  enable  them  to  bid  defiance  to  the  frost 
that  was  binding  up  the  earth  in  its  iron  fetters,  and  weaving  its  beau- 
tiful net- work  upon  the  trees  and  hedges.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  busily 
engaged  in  counting  the  barrels  of  oysters,  and  superintending  the  dis- 
interment of  the  cod-fish,  when  he  felt  himself  gently  pulled  by  the 
skirts  of  the  coat ;  and  looking  round,  he  discovered  that  the  individual 
who  resorted  to  this  mode  of  catching  his  attention,  was  no  other  than 
Mr.  Wardle's  favourite  page,  better  known  to  the  readers  of  this  unvar- 
nished history  by  the  distinguishing  appellation  of  the  fat  boy, 

"  Aha  I  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

h«  Aha  1 "  said  the  fat  boy. 
1 


286  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

And  as  he  said  it,  he  glanced  from  the  cod-fish  to  the  oyster-barrels, 
and  chuckled  joyously.     He  was  fatter  than  ever. 

"  Well,  you  look  rosy  enough,  my  young  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I've  been  asleep,  right  in  front  of  the  tap-room  fire,"  replied  the  fat 
boy,  who  had  heated  himself  to  the  colour  of  a  new  chimney-pot,  in  the 
course  of  an  hour's  nap.  "  Master  sent  me  over  with  the  chay-cart,  to 
carry  your  luggage  up  to  the  house.  He'd  ha'  sent  some  saddle  horses, 
but  he  thought  you'd  rather  walk,  being  a  cold  day." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily,  for  he  remembered  how  they 
had  travelled  over  nearly  the  same  ground  on  a  previous  occasion. 
**  Yes,  we  would  rather  walk.     Here,  Sam." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Help  Mr.  Wardle's  servant  to  put  the  packages  into  the  cart,  and 
then  ride  on  with  him.     We  will  walk  forward  at  once." 

Having  given  this  direction,  and  settled  with  the  coachman,  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  his  three  friends  struck  into  the  footpath  across  the  fields, 
and  walked  briskly  away,  leaving  Mr.  Weller  and  the  fat  boy  confronted 
together  for  the  first  time.  Sam  looked  at  the  fat  boy  with  great  asto- 
nishment, but  without  saying  a  word ;  and  began  to  stow  the  things 
rapidly  away  in  the  cart,  while  the  fat  boy  stood  quietly  by,  and  seemed 
to  think  it  a  very  interesting  sort  of  thing  to  see  Mr.  Weller  working 
by  himself. 

"  There,"  said  Sam,  throwing  in  the  last  carpet  bag.  "  There  they 
are." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  fat  boy,  in  a  very  satisfied  tone,  '*  there  they  are." 

"  Veil,  young  twenty  stun,"  said  Sam,  "  you're  a  nice  specimen  of  a 
prize  boy,  you  are." 

"  Thankee,"  said  the  fat  boy. 

"  You  ain't  got  nothin  on  your  mind,  as  makes  you  fret  yourself, 
have  you  ?  "  inquired  Sam. 

"  Not  as  I  knows  on,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  I  should  rayther  ha'  thought,  to  look  at  you,  that  you  was  a  la- 
bourin*  under  an  unrequited  attachment  to  some  young  'ooman,"  said 
Sam. 

The  fat  boy  shook  his  head. 

"  Veil,"  said  Sam,  "  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  Do  you  ever  drink  any- 
thin'?" 

"  I  likes  eating,  better/'  replied  the  boy. 

"  Ah,"  said  Sam,  "  I  should  ha'  s'posed  that ;  but  what  I  mean  ii, 
should  you  like  a  drop  of  any  thin'  as'd  warm  you  ?  but  I  s'pose  you 
never  was  cold,  with  all  them  elastic  fixtures,  was  you  ?  " 

"  Sometimes,"  replied  the  boy  ;  "  and  I  likes  a  drop  of  something, 
when  it's  good." 

"  Oh,  you  do,  do  you  ?  "  said  Sam,  "  come  this  vay,  then." 

The  Blue  Lion  tap  was  soon  gained,  and  the  fat  boy  swallowed  a  glass 
of  liquor  without  so  much  as  winking, — a  feat  which  considerably  ad- 
vanced him  in  Mr.  Weller's  good  opinion.  Mr.  Weller  having  transacted 
a  similar  piece  of  business  on  his  own  account,  they  got  into  the  cart. 

"  Can  you  drive  ?  "  said  the  fat  boy. 


THE  PICKWICK    CLUB.  287 

"  I  should  rayther  think  so,"  replied  Sara. 

"  There,  then,"  said  the  fat  boy,  putting  the  reins  in  his  hand,  and 
pointing  up  a  lane,  "  It's  as  straight  as  you  can  go ;  you  can't  miss  it." 

With  these  words,  the  fat  boy  laid  himself  affectionately  down  by  the 
side  of  the  cod-fish,  and  placing  an  oyster-barrel  under  his  head  for  a 
pillow,  fell  asleep  instantaneously. 

"  Veil,"  said  Sam,  "  of  all  the  cool  boys  ever  I  set  my  eyes  on,  this 
here  young  gen'lm'n  is  about  the  coolest.  Come,  vake  up,  young 
dropsy." 

But  as  young  dropsy  evinced  no  symptoms  of  returning  animation. 
Sam  Weller  sat  himself  down  in  front  of  the  cart,  and  starting  the  old 
horse  with  a  jerk  of  the  rein,  jogged  steadily  on,  towards  Manor  Farm 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  having  walked  their  blood 
into  active  circulation,  proceeded  cheerfully  on  ;  the  paths  were  hard, 
the  grass  was  crisp  and  frosty,  the  air  had  a  fine,  dry,  bracing  coldness, 
and  the  rapid  approach  of  the  grey  twilight  (slate-coloured  is  a  better 
term  in  frosty  weather)  made  them  look  forward  with  pleasant  anticipa- 
tion to  the  comforts  which  awaited  them  at  their  hospitable  entertainer's. 
It  was  the  sort  of  afternoon  that  might  induce  a  couple  of  elderly  gen- 
tlemen, in  a  lonely  field,  to  take  off  their  great  coats  and  play  at  leap- 
frog in  pure  lightness  of  heart  and  gaiety  ;  and  we  firmly  believe  that 
had  Mr.  Tupman  at  that  moment  proffered  *^  a  back,"  Mr.  Pickwick 
would  have  accepted  his  offer  with  the  utmost  avidity. 

However,  Mr.  Tupman  did  not  volunteer  any  such  personal  accom- 
modation, and  the  friends  walked  on,  conversing  merrily.  As  they 
turned  into  a  lane  which  they  had  to  cross,  the  sound  of  many  voices 
burst  upon  their  ears  ;  and  before  they  had  even  had  time  to  form  a 
guess  as  to  whom  they  belonged,  they  walked  into  the  very  centre  of  the 
party  who  were  expecting  their  arrival — a  fact  which  was  fi»st  notified 
to  the  Pickwickians,  by  the  loud  "  Hurrah,"  which  burst  from  old 
Wardle's  lips,  when  they  appeared  in  sight. 

First,  there  was  Wardle  himself,  looking,  if  that  were  possible,  more 
jolly  than  ever;  then  there  were  Bella  and  her  faithful  Trundle;  and, 
lastly,  there  were  Emily  and  some  eight  or  ten  young  ladies,  who  had 
all  come  down  to  the  wedding  which  was  to  take  pl.ice  next  day,  and 
were  in  as  happy^  and  important  a  state  as  young  ladies  usually  are,  on 
such  momentous  occasions;  and  they  were,  one  and  all,  startling  the  fields 
and  lanes  far  and  wide  with  their  frolic  and  laughter. 

The  ceremony  of  introduction,  under  such  circumstances,  was  very 
soon  performed,  or  we  should  rather  say  that  the  introduction  was  soon 
over,  without  any  ceremony  at  all ;  and  in  two  minutes  thereafter,  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  joking  with  the  young  ladies  who  wouldn't  come  over  the 
stile  while  he  looked,  or  who,  having  pretty  feet  and  unexceptionable 
ankles,  preferred  standing  on  the  top-rail  for  five  minutes  or  so,  and 
declaring  that  they  were  too  frightened  to  move,  with  as  much  ease  and 
absence  of  reserve  or  constraint,  as  if  he  had  known  them  for  life. 
It  is  worthy  of  remark  too,  that  Mr.  Snodgrass  offered  Emily  far  more 
assistance  than  the  absolute  terrors  of  the  stile  (although  it  was  full  three 
feet  high,  and  had  only  a  couple  of  stepping-stones)  would  seem  to 


288  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS    OF 

require ;  while  one  black-eyed  young  lady  in  a  very  nice  little  pair  of 
boots  with  fur  round  the  top,  was  observed  to  scream  very  loudly,  when 
Mr.  Winkle  offered  to  help  her  over. 

All  this  was  very  snug  and  pleasant :  and  when  the  difficulties  of  the 
stile  were  at  last  surmounted,  and  they  once  more  entered  on  the  open 
field,  old  Wardle  informed  Mr.  Pickwick  how  they  had  all  been  down 
in  a  body  to  inspect  the  furniture  and  fittings-up  of  the  house, 
which  the  young  couple  were  to  tenant,  after  the  Christmas  holidays ; 
at  which  communication  Bella  and  Trundle  both  coloured  up,  as  red  as 
the  fat  boy  after  the  tap-room  fire  ;  and  the  young  lady  with  the  black 
eyes  and  the  fur  round  the  boots,  whispered  something  in  Emily's  ear, 
and  then  glanced  archly  at  Mr.  Snodgrass,  to  which  Emily  responded 
that  she  was  a  foolish  girl,  but  turned  very  red,  notwithstanding ;  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  was  as  modest  as  all  great  geniuses  usually  are,  felt 
the  crimson  rising  to  the  crown  of  his  head,  and  devoutly  wished,  in 
the  inmost  recesses  of  his  own  heart,  that  the  young  lady  aforesaid,  with 
her  black  eyes,  and  her  archness,  and  her  boots  with  the  fur  round  the 
top,  were  all  comfortably  deposited  in  the  adjacent  county. 

But  if  they  were  social  and  happy,  outside  the  house,  what  was  the 
warmth  and  cordiality  of  their  reception  when  they  reached  the  farm  ! 
The  very  servants  grinned  with  pleasure  at  sight  of  Mr.  Pickwick :  and 
Emma  bestowed  a  half-demure,  half-impudent,  and  all  pretty  look  of 
recognition  on  Mr.  Tupman,  which  was  enough  to  make  the  statue  of 
Bonaparte  in  the  passage,  unfold  his  arms,  and  clasp  her  within  them. 

The  old  lady  was  seated  in  customary  state  in  the  front  parlour,  but 
she  was  rather  cross,  and  b,y  consequence,  most  particularly  deaf.  She 
never  went  out  herself,  and  like  a  great  many  other  old  ladies  of  the 
same  stamp,  she  was  apt  to  consider  it  an  act  of  domestic  treason,  if 
any  body  else  took  the  liberty  of  doing  what  she  couldn't.  So,  bless 
her  old  soul,  she  sat  as  upright  as  she  could,  in  her  great  chair,  and 
looked  as  fierce  as  might  be — and  that  was  benevolent  after  all. 

"  Mother,"  said  Wardle,  "  Mr.  Pickwick.    You  recollect  him." 

"  Never  mind,"  replied  the  old  lady  with  great  dignity.  "  Don't 
trouble  Mr.  Pickwick  about  an  old  creetur  like  me.  Nobody  cares 
about  me  now,  and  it's  very  nat'ral  they  shouldn't."  Here  the  old  lady 
tossed  her  head,  and  smoothed  down  her  lavender-coloured  silk  dress, 
with  trembling  hands. 

"  Come,  come.  Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  can't  let  you  cut  an 
old  friend  in  this  way.  I  have  come  down  expressly  to  have  a  long 
talk,  and  another  rubber  with  you ;  and  we'll  show  these  boys  and  girls 
how  to  dance  a  minuet,  before  they're  eight-and-forty  hours  older." 

The  old  lady  was  rapidly  giving  way,  but  she  did  not  like  to  do  it  all 
at  once ;  so  she  only  said,  "  Ah  I  I  can't  hear  him." 

"  Nonsense,  mother,"  said  Wardle.  "  Come,  come,  don't  be  cross, 
there's  a  good  soul.  Recollect  Bella ;  come,  you  must  keep  her  spirits 
up,  poor  girl." 

The  good  old  lady  heard  this,  for  her  lip  quivered  as  her  son  said  it. 
But  age  has  its  little  infirmities  of  temper,  and  she  was  not  quite 
brought  round  yet.      So,  she  smoothed  down  the  lavender-coloured 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB.  289 

dress  again,  and  turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick  said,  "  Ah,  Mr.  Pickwick, 
young'  people  was  very  different,  when  I  was  a  girl." 

"  No  doubt  of  that,  Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  and  that's  the 
reason  why  I  would  make  much  of  the  few  that  have  any  traces  of  the 
old  stock," — and  saying  this,  Mr.  Pickwick  gently  pulled  Bella  towards 
him,  and  bestowing  a  kiss  upon  her  forehead,  bade  her  sit  down  on  the 
little  stool  at  her  grandmother's  feet.  Whether  the  expression  of  her 
countenance,  as  it  was  raised  towards  the  old  lady's  face,  called  up  a 
thought  of  old  times,  or  whether  the  old  lady  was  touched  by  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's affectionate  good  nature,  or  whatever  was  the  cause,  she  was 
fairly  melted ;  so,  she  threw  herself  on  her  grand-daughter's  neck,  and 
all  the  little  ill-humour  evaporated  in  a  gush  of  silent  tears. 

A  happy  party  they  were,  that  night.  Sedate  and  solemn  were  the 
score  of  rubbers  in  which  Mr.  Pickwick  and  the  old  lady  played  toge- 
ther ;  and  uproarious  was  the  mirth  of  the  round  table.  Long  after  the 
ladies  had  retired,  did  the  hot  elder  wine,  well  qualified  with  brandy  and 
spice,  go  round,  and  round,  and  round  again  ;  and  sound  was  the  sleep, 
and  pleasant  were  the  dreams  that  followed.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact, 
that  those  of  Mr.  Snodgrass  bore  constant  reference  to  Emily  Wardle ; 
and  that  the  principal  figure  in  Mr.  Winkle's  visions,  was  a  young  lady 
with  black  eyes,  an  arch  smile,  and  a  pair  of  remarkably  nice  boots,  with 
fur  round  the  tops. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  awakened  early  in  the  morning,  by  a  hum  of  voices 
and  pattering  of  feet,  sufficient  to  rouse  even  the  fat  boy  from  his  heavy 
slumbers.  He  sat  up  in  bed,  and  listened.  The  female  servants  and 
female  visitors  were  running  constantly  to  and  fro  ;  and  there  were  such 
multitudinous  demands  for  warm  water,  such  repeated  outcries  for 
needles  and  thread,  and  so  many  half-suppressed  entreaties  of  "  Oh,  do 
come  and  tie  me,  there's  a  dear,"  that  Mr.  Pickwick  in  his  innocence 
began  to  imagine  that  something  dreadful  must  have  occurred,  when  he 
grew  more  awake,  and  remembered  the  wedding.  The  occasion  being 
an  important  one,  he  dressed  himself  with  peculiar  care,  and  descended 
to  the  breakfast  room. 

There  were  all  the  female  servants  in  a  bran  new  uniform  of  pink 
muslin  gowns  with  white  bows  in  their  caps,  running  about  the  house 
in  a  state  of  excitement  and  agitation,  which  it  would  be  impossible  to 
describe.  The  old  lady  was  dressed  out,  in  a  brocaded  grown,  which  had 
not  seen  the  light  for  twenty  years,  saving  and  excepting  such  truant 
rays  as  had  stolen  through  the  chinks  in  the  box  in  which  it  had  been 
laid  by,  during  the  whole  time.  Mr.  Trundle  was  in  high  feather  and 
spirits,  but  a  httle  nervous  withal.  The  hearty  old  landlord  was  trying 
to  look  very  cheerful  and  unconcerned,  but  failing  signally  in  the 
attempt.  All  the  girls  were  in  tears  and  white  muslin,  except  a  select 
two  or  three,  who  were  being  honoured  with  a  private  view  of  the  bride 
and  bridesmaids,  up  stairs.  All  the  Pickwickians  were  in  most  bloom- 
ing array  ;  and  there  was  a  terrific  roaring  on  the  grass  in  front  of  the 
house,  occasioned  by  all  the  men,  boys,  and  hobbledehoys  attached  to 
the  farm,  each  of  whom  had  got  a  white  bow  in  his  button  hole,  and 
all  of  whom  were  cheering  with  might  and  main :  being  incited  thereto, 


290  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 

and  stimulated  therein,  by  the  precept  and  example  of  Mr.  Samuel 
WeUer,  who  had  managed  to  become  mighty  popular  already,  and  was 
as  much  at  home  as  if  he  had  been  born  on  the  land. 

A  wedding  is  a  licensed  subject  to  joke  upon,  but  there  really  is  no 
great  joke  in  the  matter  after  all ;  we  speak  merely  of  the  ceremony, 
and  beg  it  to  be  distinctly  understood  that  we  indulge  in  no  hidden 
sarcasm  upon  a  married  life.  Mixed  up  with  the  pleasure  and  joy  ot 
the  occasion,  are  the  many  regrets  at  quitting  home,  the  tears  of  parting 
between  parent  and  child,  the  consciousness  of  leaving  the  dearest  and 
kindest  friends  of  the  happiest  portion  of  human  life,  to  encounter  its 
cares  and  troubles  with  others  still  untried,  and  little  known — natural 
feelings  which  we  would  not  render  this  chapter  mournful  by  describing, 
and  which  we  should  be  still  more  unwilling  to  be  supposed  to  ridicule. 

Let  us  briefly  say,  then,  that  the  ceremony  was  performed  by  the  old 
clergyman,  in  the  parish  Church  of  Dingley  Dell,  and  that  Mr.  Pickwick's 
name  is  attached  to  the  register,  still  preserved  in  the  vestry  thereof ; 
that  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes  signed  her  name  in  a  very  un- 
steady and  tremulous  manner ;  and  that  Emily's  signature,  as  the  other 
bridesmaid,  is  nearly  illegible ;  that  it  all  went  off  in  very  admirable 
style  ;  that  the  young  ladies  generally,  thought  it  far  less  shocking  than 
they  expected ;  and  that  although  the  owner  of  the  black  eyes  and  the 
arch  smile  informed  Mr.  Winkle  that  she  was  sure  she  could  never 
submit  to  anything  so  dreadful,  we  have  the  very  best  reasons  for 
thinking  she  was  mistaken.  To  all  this,  we  may  add,  that  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  the  first  who  saluted  the  bride  :  and  that  in  so  doing,  he  threw  over 
her  neck,  a  rich  gold  watch  and  chain,  which  no  mortal  eyes  but,  the 
jeweller's  had  ever  beheld  before.  Then  the  old  church  bell  rang  as 
gaily  as  it  could,  and  they  all  returned  to  breakfast. 

"  Vere  does  the  mince-pies  go,  young  opium  eater?"  said  Mr.  Weller 
to  the  fat  boy,  as  he  assisted  in  laying  out  such  articles  of  consumption 
as  had  not  been  duly  arranged  on  the  previous  night. 

The  fat  boy  pointed  to  the  destination  of  the  pies. 

«  Wery  good,"  said  Sam,  "  stick  a  bit  o'  Christmas  in  'em.  T'other 
dish  opposite.  There ;  now  ve  look  compact  and  comfortable,  as  the 
father  said  ven  he  cut  his  little  boy's  head  off,  to  cure  him  o'  squintin ." 

As  Mr.  Weller  made  the  comparison,  he  fell  back  a  step  or  two,  to 
give  full  effect  to  it,  and  surveyed  the  preparations  with  the  utmost 
satisfaction. 

"  Wardle,"  said  Mr.  Piekwick,  almost  as  soon  as  they  were  all  seated, 
"  a  glass  of  wine,  in  honour  of  this  happy  occasion  ! " 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,  my  boy,"  said  Wardle.  "  Joe — damn  that 
boy,  he's  gone  to  sleep." 

"  No,  I  ain't,  Sir,"  replied  the  fat  boy,  starting  up  from  a  remote 
corner,  where,  like  the  patron  saint  of  fat  boys — the  immortal  Horner — 
be  had  been  devouring  a  Christmas  pie,  though  not  with  the  coolness 
and  deliberation  which  characterised  that  young  gentleman's  proceedings. 

"  Fill  Mr.  Pickwick's  glass." 

"  Yes,  Sir." 

The  fat  boy  filled  Mr.  Pickwick's  glass,  and  then  retired  behind  his 


II 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB. 


291 


master's  chair,  from  whence  he  watched  the  play  of  the  knives  and 
forks,  and  the  progress  of  the  choice  morsels,  from  the  dishes,  to  the 
mouths  of  the  company,  with  a  kind  of  dark  and  gloomy  joy  that  was 
most  impressive. 

"  God  bless  you,  old  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Same  to  you,  my  boy,"  replied  Wardle ;  and  they  pledged  each 
other,  heartily. 

«  Mrs.  Wardle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  we  old  folks  must  have  a  glass 
of  wine  together,  in  honour  of  this  joyful  event." 

The  old  lady  was  in  a  state  of  great  grandeur  just  then,  for  she  was 
sitting  at  the  top  of  the  table  in  the  brocaded  gown,  with  her  newly- 
married  daughter  on  one  side,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  on  the  other,  to  do  the 
carving.  Mr.  Pickwick  had  not  spoken  in  a  very  loud  tone,  but  she 
understood  him  at  once,  and  drank  off  a  full  glass  of  wine  to  his  long 
life  and  happiness ;  after  which  the  worthy  old  soul  launched  forth  into 
a  minute  and  particular  account  of  her  own  wedding,  with  a  dissertation 
on  the  fashion  of  wearing  high-heeled  shoes,  and  some  particulars  concern- 
ing the  life  and  adventures  of  the  beautiful  Lady  ToUimglower,  deceased, 
at  all  of  which  the  old  lady  herself  laughed  very  heartily  indeed,  and  so  did 
the  young  ladies  too,  for  they  were  wondering  among  themselves  what 
on  earth  grandma  was  talking  about.  When  they  laughed,  the  old  lady 
laughed  ten  times  more  heartily  :  and  said  that  they  always  had  been 
considered  capital  stories,  which  caused  them  all  to  laugh  again,  and 
put  the  old  lady  into  the  very  best  of  humours.  Then  the  cake  was 
cut,  and  passed  through  the  ring;  and  the  young  ladies  saved  pieces  to 
put  under  their  pillows  to  dream  of  their  future  husbands  on  ;  and  a 
great  deal  of  blushing  and  merriment  was  thereby  occasioned. 

"  Mr.  Miller,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  to  his  old  acquaintance,  the  hard- 
headed  gentleman,  "  a  glass  of  wine?  " 

"  W^ith  great  satisfaction  Mr.  Pickwick,"  replied  the  hard-headed 
gentleman,  solemnly. 

"  You'll  take  me  in  ?  "  said  the  benevolent  old  clergyman. 

"  And  me,"  interposed  his  wife. 

"  And  me,  and  me,"  said  a  couple  of  poor  relations  at  the  bottom  of 
the  table,  who  had  eaten  and  drank  very  heartily,  and  laughed  at  every 
thing. 

Mr.  Pickwick  expressed  his  heartfelt  5^f»light  at  every  additional  sug- 
gestion ;  and  his  eyes  beamed  with  hilarity  and  cheerfulness. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  suddenly  rising  — 

"  Hear,  hear  !  Hear,  hear !  Hear,  hear !  "  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  the 
excitement  of  his  feelings.         ^ 

"  Call  in  all  the  servants,"  cried  old  Wardle,  interposing  to  prevent 
the  public  rebuke  which  Mr.  Weller  would  otherwise  most  indubitably 
have  received  from  his  master. 

"  Give  them  a  glass  of  wine  each,  to  drink  the  toast  in.  Now, 
Pickwick." 

Amidst  the  silence  of  the  company,  the  whispering  of  the  women 
servants,  and  the  awkward  embarrassment  of  the  men,  Mr.  Pickwick 
proceeded. 

7, 


292  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OP 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen — no,  I  won't  say  ladies  and  gentlemen,  V\\ 
call  you  my  friends,  my  dear  friends,  if  the  ladies  will  allow  me  to 
take  so  great  a  liberty  " 

Here  Mr.  Pickwick  was  interrupted  by  immense  applause  from  the 
ladies,  echopd  by  the  gentlemen,  during  which  the  owner  of  the  pyes 
wan  distinctly  heard  to  state  that  she  could  kiss  that  dear  Mr.  Pickwick, 
whereupon  Mr.  Winkle  gallantly  inquired  if  it  couldn't  be  done  by 
deputy,  to  which  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes  replied,  "  Go 
away  " — and  accompanied  the  request  with  a  look  which  said  as  plainly 
as  a  look  could  do *'  if  you  can." 

"  My  dear  friends,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  am  going  to  propose 
the  health  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom — CJod  bless  'em  (cheers  and 
tears).  My  young  friend  Trundle,  I  believe  to  be  a  very  excellent 
and  manly  fellow  ;  and  his  wife  I  know  to  be  a  very  amiable  and 
lovely  girl,  well  qualified  to  transfer  to  another  sphere  of  action 
the  happiness  which  for  twenty  years  she  has  diffused  around  her, 
in  her  father's  house.  (Here,  the  fat  boy  burst  forth  into  stentorian 
biubberings,  and  was  led  forth  by  the  coat  collar,  by  Mr.  Weller.) 
I  wish,"  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  wish  I  was  young  enough  to 
be  her  sister's  husband,  (cheers),  but,  failing  that,  I  am  happy  to 
be  oA  enough  to  be  her  father;  for,  being  so,  I  shall  not  be 
suspected  of  any  latent  designs  when  I  say,  that  I  admire,  esteem,  and 
love  them  both  (cheers  and  sobs).  The  bride's  father,  our  good 
friend  there,  is  a  noble  person,  and  I  am  proud  to  know  him  (great 
uproar).  He  is  a  kind,  excellent,  independent-spirited,  fine-hearted, 
hospitable,  liberal  man  (enthusiastic  shouts  from  the  poor  relations,  at 
all  the  adjectives  ;  and  especially  at  the  two  last).  That  his  daughter 
may  enjoy  all  the  happiness,  even  he  can  desire;  and  that  he  may 
derive  from  the  contemplation  of  her  felicity  ail  the  gratification  ol 
heart  and  peace  of  mind  which  he  so  well  deserves,  is,  I  am  persuaded, 
our  united  wish.  So,  let  us  drink  their  healths,  and  wish  them  pro- 
longed life,  and  every  blessing." 

Mr.  Pickwick  concluded  amidst  a  whirlwind  of  applause ;  and  once 
more  were  the  lungs  of  the  supernumeraries,  under  Mr.  Weller's  com- 
mand, brought  into  active  and  efficient  operation.  Mr.  Wardle  pro- 
posed Mr.  Pickwick ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  proposed  the  old  lady.  Mr. 
Snodgrass  proposed  Mr.  Wardle,  and  Mr.  Wardle  proposed  Mr.  Snod- 
grass.  One  of  the  poor  relations  proposed  Mr.  Tupman,  and  the  other 
poor  relation  proposed  Mr.  Winkle  ;  and  all  was  happiness  and  festivity, 
until  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  both  the  poor  relations  beneath 
the  table,  warned  the  party  that  it  was  time  to  adjourn. 

At  dinner  they  met  again,  after  a  five  and  twenty  mile  walk,  under- 
taken by  the  males  at  Wardle's  recommendation,  to  get  rid  of  the 
effects  of  the  wine  at  breakfast ;  the  poor  relations  had  lain  in  bed  all 
day,  with  the  view  of  attaining  the  same  happy  consummation,  but,  as 
they  had  been  unsuccessful,  they  stopped  there.  Mr.  Weller  kept  the 
domestics  in  a  state  of  perpetual  hilarity  ;  and  the  fat  boy  divided 
time  into  small  alternate  allotments  of  eating  and  sleeping. 

The  dinner  was  as  hearty  an  affair  as  the  breakfast,  and  was  (juite 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  293 

noisy,  without  the  tears.      Then  came  the  dessert  and  sotne  more 
toasts.     Then  came  the  tea  and  coffee ;  and  then,  the  ball. 

The  best  sitting  room  at  Manor  Farm  was  a  good,  long-,  dark- 
pannelled  room  with  a  high  chimney  piece,  and  a  capacious  chimney, 
up  which  you  could  have  driven  one  of  the  new  patent  cabs,  wheels  and 
all.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  room,  seated  in  a  shady  bower  of  hoily 
and  evergreens,  were  the  two  best  fiddlers,  and  the  only  harp,  in  all 
Muggleton.  In  all  sorts  of  recesses,  and  on  all  kinds  of  brackets,  stood 
massive  old  silver  candlesticks  with  four  branches  each.  The  carpet 
was  up,  the  candles  burnt  bright,  the  fire  blazed  and  crackled  on  the 
hearth ;  and  merry  voices  and  light-hearted  laughter  rang  through  the 
room.  If  any  of  the  old  English  yeomen  had  turned  into  fairies  when 
they  died,  it  was  just  the  place  in  which  they  would  have  held  their 
revels. 

If  any  thing  could  have  added  to  the  interest  of  this  agreeable  scene, 
it  would  have  been  the  remarkable  fact  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  appearing 
without  his  gaiters,  for  the  first  time  within  the  memory  of  his  oldest 
friends. 

**  You  mean  to  dance  ?  "  said  Wardle. 

"  Of  course   I  do,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  *'  Don't  you  see  1  am 
dressed  for  the  purpose  ?  "    and  Mr.  Pickwick  called  attention  to  his 
»8peckled  silk  stockings,  and  smartly  tied  pumps. 

"  You  in  silk  stockings  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Tupman  jocosely. 

"  And  why  not  Sir — -why  not  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  turning  warmly 
upon  him. 

"  Oh,  of  course  there  is  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't  wear  them," 
responded  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  I  imagine  not  Sir-^I  imagine  not,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  in  a  very- 
peremptory  tone. 

Mr.  Tupman  had  contemplated  a  laugh,  but  he  found  it  was  a 
serious  matter ;  so  he  looked  grave,  and  said  they  were  a  very  pretty 
pattern. 

"  I  hope  they  are,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  fixing  his  eyes  upon  his  friend. 
"  You  see  nothing  extraordinary  in  these  stockings,  as  stockings,  I 
trust  Sir?" 

"  Certainly  not — oh  certainly  not/'  replied  Mr.  Tupman.  He 
walked  away ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance  resumed  its  customary 
benign  expression. 

"  We  are  all  ready,  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  stationed 
with  the  old  lady  at  the  top  of  the  dance,  and  had  already  made  four 
false  starts,  in  his  excessive  anxiety  to  commence. 

"  Then  begin  at  once,"  said  Wardle.    "  Now." 

Up  struck  the  two  fiddles  and  the  one  harp,  and  off  went  Mr.  Pick- 
wick into  hands  across,  when  there  was  a  general  clapping  of  hand^, 
and  a  cry  of  "  Stop,  stop." 

"  What's  the  matter  ! "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  only  brought  to, 
by  the  fiddles  and  harp  desisting,  and  could  have  been  stopped  by  no 
other  earthly  power,  if  the  house  had  been  on  fire. 

**  Where's  Arabella  Allen  ?  "  said  a  dozen  voices. 

z  2 


9 


294  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 

"And  Winkle?"  added  Mr.  Tupman. 

*'  Here  we  are  I"  exclaimed  that  gentleman,  emerging  with  his  pretty 
companion  from  the  corner ;  and,  as  he  did  so,  it  would  have  been  hard 
to  tell  which  was  the  redder  in  the  face,  he  or  the  young  lady  with  the 
black  eyes, 

"  What  an  extraordinary  thing  it  is,  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
rather  pettishly,  "  that  you  couldn't  have  taken  your  place  before.'* 

"  Not  at  all  extraordinary,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  very  expressive  smile,  as  his 
eyes  rested  on  Arabella,  "  well,  I  don't  know  that  it  was  extraordinary, 
either,  after  all." 

However,  there  was  no  time  to  think  more  about  the  matter,  for  the 
fiddles  and  harp  began  in  real  earnest.  Away  went  Mr.  Pickwick- 
hands  across,  down  the  middle  to  the  very  end  of  the  room,  and  half 
way  up, the  chimney,  back  again  to  the  door — poussette  everywhere — 
loud  stamp  on  the  ground — ready  for  the  next  couple — off  again — all 
the  figure  over  once  more — another  stamp  to  beat  out  the  time — next 
couple,  and  the  next,  and  the  next  again — never  was  such  going ;  and 
at  last,  after  they  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the  dance,  and  full  four-- 
teen  couple  after  the  old  lady  had  retired  in  an  exhausted  state,  and  the 
clergyman's  wife  had  been  substituted  in  her  stead,  did  that  gentleman, 
when  there  was  no  demand  whatever  on  his  exertions,  keep  perpetually 
dancing  in  his  place,  to  keep  time  to  the  music,  smiling  on  his  partner 
all  the  while  with  a  blandness  of  demeanour  which  baffles  all  de* 
scription. 

Long  before  Mr.  Pickwick  was  weary  of  dancing,  the  newly-married 
couple  had  retired  from  the  scene.  There  .was  a  glorious  supper  down 
stairs,  notwithstanding,  and  a  good  long  sitting  after  it ;  and  when  Mr. 
Pickwick  awoke,  late  the  next  morning,  he  had  a  confused  recollection 
of  having,  severally  and  confidentially,  invited  somewhere  about  five-and- 
forty  people  to  dine  with  him  at  the  George  and  Vulture,  the  very  first 
time  they  came  to  London  ;  which  Mr.  Pickwick  rightly  considered  a 
pretty  certain  indication  of  his  having  taken  something  besides  exercise, 
on  the  previous  night. 

"  And  so  your  family  has  games  in  the  kitchen  to-night,  my  dear, 
has  they?"  inquired  Sam  of  Emma. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Weiler,"  replied  Emma ;  "  we  always  have  on  Christmas 
eve.     Master  wouldn't  neglect  to  keep  it  up,  on  any  account." 

"  Your  master's  a  wery  pretty  notion  of  keepin*  anythin'  up,  my 
dear,"  said  Mr.  W^eller ;  "  I  never  see  such  a  sensible  sort  of  man  as  he 
is,  or  such  a  reg'lar  gen'l'm'n." 

"Oh,  that  he  is!"  said  the  fat  boy,  joining  in  the  conversation ; 
"  don't  he  breed  nice  pork  I"  and  the  fat  youth  gave  a  semi-cannibalic 
•eer  at  Mr.  Weiler,  as  he  thought  of  the  roast  legs  and  gravy. 

"  Oh,  you've  woke  up,  at  last,  have  you  ?  "  said  Sam. 

The  fat  boy  nodded. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  young  boa  constructer,"  said  Mr.  Weiler, 
impressively,  "  if  you  don't  sleep  a  little  less,  and  exercise  a  little  more, 
Y«n  vou  cpmes  to  be  a  man  you'll  lay  yourself  open  to  the  same  sort 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  295 

o*  personal  inconwenience  as  was  inflicted  on  the  old  gen'l'm'u  as  wore 
the  pig^-tail." 

"What  did  they  do  to  him?"  inquired  the  fat  boy,  in  a  faltering- 
voice. 

"  I'm  a  g^oin'  to  tell  you,"  replied  Mr.  Weller ;  "  he  was  one  o'  the 
]arg"est  patterns  as  was  ever  turned  out — reg'lar  fat  man,  as  hadn't  caught 
a  glimpse  of  his  own  shoes  for  five-and-forty  years." 

"  Lor!"  exclaimed  Emma. 

*'  No,  that  he  hadn't,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "  and  if  you'd 
put  an  exact  model  of  his  own  legs  on  the  dinin*  table  afore  him,  he 
wouldn't  ha*  known  'em.  Well,  he  always  walks  to  his  office  with 
a  wery  handsome  gold  watch-chain  hanging  out,  about  a  foot  and  a 
half,  and  a  gold  watch  in  his  fob  pocket  as  was  worth — I'm  afraid  to 
say  how  much,  but  as  much  as  a  watch  can  be — a  large,  heavy,  round 
manafacter,  as  stout  for  a  watch,  as  he  was  for  a  man,  and  with  a  big 
face  in  proportion.  '  You'd  better  not  carry  that  'ere  watch/  says  the 
old  gen'l'ra'n's  friends,  '  you'll  be  robbed  on  it/  says  they.  *  Shall  I?' 
says  he.  *  Yes,  will  you,'  says  they.  *  Veil,'  says  he,  *  I  should  like  to 
see  the  thief  as  could  get  this  here  watch  out,  for  I'm  blessed  if  /  ever 
can ;  it's  such  a  tight  fit/  says  he,  '  and  venever  I  vants  to  know  what's 
o'clock,  I'm  obliged  to  stare  into  the  bakers*  shops/  he  says.  Well, 
then  he  laughs  as  hearty  as  if  he  was  a  goin*  to  pieces,  and  out  he  walks 
agin'  with  his  powdered  head  and  pig-tail,  and  rolls  down  the  Strand 
vith  the  chain  hangin'  out  furder  than  ever,  and  the  great  round  watch 
almost  bustin'  through  his  grey  kersey  smalls.  There  Warn't  a  pickpocket 
in  all  London  as  didn't  take  a  pull  at  that  chain,  but  the  chain  'ud  never 
break,  and  the  watch  'ud  never  come  out,  so  they  soon  got  tired  o'  drag- 
ging such  a  heavy  old  gen'l'm'n  along  the  pavement,  and  he'd  go  home 
and  laugh  till  the  pig-tail  wibrated  like  the  penderlum  of  a  Dutch  clock. 
At  last,  one  day  the  old  gen'l  m'n  was  a  rollin'  along,  and  he  sees  a 
pickpocket  as  he  know'd  by  sight,  a-comin'  up,  arm  in  arm  vith  a  little 
boy  vith  a  wery  large  head.  '  Hej-e's  a  game,'  says  the  old  gen'l'm'n  to 
himself,  '  they're  a-goin'  to  have  another  try,  but  it  won't  do.*  So  he 
begins  a  chucklin'  wery  hearty,  ven,  all  of  a  sudden,  the  little  boy  leaves 
hold  of  the  pickpocket's  arm,  and  rushes  headforemost  straight  into  the 
old  gen'l* m'n's  stomach,  and  for  a  moment  doubled  him  right  up  vith  the 
pain.  'Murder!'  says  the  old  gen'l'm'n.  *  All  right.  Sir/  says  the 
pickpocket,  a  whisperin'  in  his  ear.  And  ven  he  come  straight  agin',  the 
watch  and  chain  was  gone,  and  what's  worse  than  that,  the  old  gen'l'm'n 's 
digestion  was  all  wrong  ever  artervards,  to  the  wery  last  day  of  his  life; 
so  just  you  look  about  you,  young  feller,  and  take  care  you  don't  get 
too  fat." 

As  Mr.  Weller  concluded  this  moral  tale,  with  whi(5h  the  fat  boy 
appeared  much  affected,  they  all  three  wended  their  way  to  the  large 
kitchen,  in  which  the  family  were  by  this  time  assembled,  according  to 
annual  custom  on  Christmas  eve,  observed  by  old  Wardle's  forefathers 
from  time  immemorial. 

From  the  centre  of  the  ceiling  of  this  kitchen,  old  Wardle  had  just 
suspended  with  his  own  hands  a  huge  branch  of  misletoe,  and  this  same 


296  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS   OF 

branch  of  misletoe  instantaneously  gave  rise  to  a  scene  of  general  and 
most  delightful  struggling  and  confusion  ;  in  the  midst  of  which  Mr. 
Pickwick  with  a  gallantry  which  would  have  done  honour  to  a  descen- 
dant of  Lady  Tollimglower  herself,  took  the  old  lady  by  the  hand,  led 
her  beneath  the  mystic  branch,  and  saluted  her  in  all  courtesy  and 
decorum.  The  old  lady  submitted  to  this  piece  of  practical  politeness 
with  all  the  dignity  which  befitted  so  important  and  serious  a  solemnity, 
but  the  younger  ladies  not  being  so  thoroughly  imbued  with  a  super- 
stitious veneration  of  the  custom,  or  imagining  that  the  value  of  a  salute 
is  very  much  enhanced  if  it  cost  a  little  trouble  to  obtain  it,  screamed 
and  struggled,  and  ran  into  corners,  and  threatened  and  remonstrated, 
and  did  every  thing  but  leave  the  room,  until  some  of  the  less  adven- 
turous gentlemen  were  on  the  point  of  desisting,  when  they  all  at  once 
found  it  useless  to  resist  any  longer,  and  submitted  to  be  kissed  with  a 
good  grace.  Mr.  Winkle  kissed  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes, 
and  Mr.  Snodgrass  kissed  Emily;  and  Mr.  Weller,  not  being  particular 
about  the  form  of  being  under  the  misletoe,  kissed  Emma  and  the  other 
female  servants,  just  as  he  caught  them.  As  to  the  poor  relations,  they 
kissed  everybody^  not  even  excepting  the  plainer  portion  of  the  young- 
lady  visiters,  who,  in  their  excessive  confusion,  ran  right  under  the 
misletoe,  directly  it  was  hung  up,  without  knowing  it !  Wardle  stood 
with  his  back  to  the  fire,  surveying  the  whole  scene?  with  the  utmost 
satisfaction ;  and  the  fat  boy  took  the  opportunity  of  appropriating  to 
his  own  use,  and  sum.marily  devouring,  a  particularly  fine  mince-pie, 
that  had  been  carefully  put  by,  for  somebody  else. 

Now  the  screaming  had  subsided,  and  faces  were  in  a  glow  and  curls 
in  a  tangle,  and  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  kissing  the  old  lady  as  before-men- 
tioned, was  standing  under  the  misletoe,  looking  with  a  very  pleased 
countenance  on  all  that  was  passing  around  him,  when  the  young  lady 
with  the  black  eyes,  after  a  litti»>.  whispering  with  the  other  young  ladies, 
made  a  sudden  dart  forward,  and,  putting  her  arm  round  Mr.  Pickwick's 
neck,  saluted  him  affectionately  on  the  left  cheek ;  and  before  Mr.  Pick- 
wick distinctly  knew  what  was  the  matter,  he  was  surrounded  by  the 
whole  body,  and  kissed  by  every  one  of  them. 

It  was  a  pleasant  thing  to  see  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  centre  of  the 
group,  now  pulled  this  way,  and  then  that,  and  first  kissed  on  tl^  chin 
and  then  on  the  nose,  and  then  on  the  spectacles,  and  to  hear  the  peals 
of  laughter  which  were  raised  on  every  side ;  but  it  was  a  still  more 
pleasant  thing  to  see  Mr.  Pickwick,  blinded  shortly  afterwards  with  a 
silk-handkerchief,  falling  up  against  the  wall,  and  scrambling  into  cor- 
ners, and  going  through  all  the  mysteries  of  blindman's  buff,  with  the 
utmost  relish  for  the  game,  until  at  last  he  caught  one  of  the 
poor  relations;' and  then  had  to  evade  the  blind-man  himself,  which 
he  did  with  a  nimbleness  and  agility  that  elicited  the  admiration  and  fi 
applause  of  all  beholders.  The  poor  relations  caught  just  the  people 
whom  they  thought  would  like  it ;  and  when  the  game  flagged,  got  caughl 
themselves.  When  they  were  all  tired  of  blind-man's  buff,  there  was  ». 
great  game  at  snap-dragon,  and  when  fingers  enough  were  burned  with 
that,  and  all  the  raisins  gone,  they  sat  down  by  the  huge  fire  of  blazing. 


ffK 


w 


a^'^ 


/"""f' 


2.06' 


«&- 


► 


THE  PICKWICK    CLUB.  297 

logs  to  a  substantial  supper,  and  a  mighty  bowl  of  wassail,  something" 
smaller  than  an  ordinary  wash-house  copper,  in  which  the  hot  apples 
were  hissing  and  bubbling  with  a  rich  look,  and  a  jolly  sound,  that  were 
perfectly  irresistible. 

'*  This,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round  him,  "  this  is,  indeed, 
comfort." 

"Our  invariable  custom,"  replied  Mr.  Wardle.  *•  Every  body  sits 
down  with  us  on  Christmas  eve,  as  you  see  them  now — servants  and  all ; 
and  here  we  wait  till  the  clock  strikes  twelve,  to  usher  Christmas  in, 
and  while  away  the  time  with  forfeits  and  old  stories.  Trundle,  my  boy, 
rake  up  the  fire." 

Up  ilew  the  bright  sparks  in  myriads  as  the  logs  were  stirred,  and  the 
deep  red  blaze  sent  forth  a  rich  glow,  that  penetrated  into  the  furthest 
corner  of  the  room,  and  cast  its  cheerful  tint  on  every  face. 

"  Come,"  said  Wardle,  "  a  song — a  Christmas  song.  I'll  give  you 
one,  in  default  of  a  better." 

"  Bravo,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Fill  up,"  cried  Wardle.  "  It  will  be  two  hours  good,  before  you  see 
the  bottom  of  the  bowl  through  the  deep  rich  colour  of  the  wassail ;  fill 
up  all  round,  and  now  for  the  song." 

Thus  saying,  the  merry  old  gentleman,  in  a  good,  round,  sturdy 
voice,  commenced  without  more  ado — 

a  ar^fistmas  OTarol 

I  CARE  not  for  Spring ;  on  his  fickle  wing 

Let  the  blossoms  and  buds  be  borne  : 

He  woos  them  amain  with  his  treacherous  rain. 

And  he  scatters  them  ere  the  morn. 

An  inconstant  elf,  he  knows  not  himself, 

Or  his  owTi  changing  mind  an  hour, 

He'll  smile  in  your  face,  and,  with  vrry  grimace, 

He'll  wither  your  youngest  flower. 

Let  the  Summer  sun  to  his  bright  home  run, 

He  shall  never  be  sought  by  me  ; 

When  he's  dimmed  by  a  cloud  1  can  laugh  aloud. 

And  care  not  how  sulky  he  be ; 

For  his  darling  child  is  the  madness  wild 

That  sports  in  fierce  fever's  train ; 

And  when  love  is  too  strong,  it  don't  last  long, 

As  many  have  found  to  their  pain. 

A  mild  harvest  night,  by  the  tranquil  light 

Of  the  modest  and  gentle  moon, 

Has  a  far  s\veeter  sheen  for  me,  I  ween. 

Than  the  broad  and  unblushing  noon. 

But  eveiy  leaf  awakens  my  grief, 

As  it  licth  beneath  the  tree ; 

So  let  Autumn  air  be  never  so  fair. 

It  by  no  means  agrees  with  me. 


**98  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

But  my  song  I  troll  out,  for  Christmas  stout. 

The  hearty,  the  ti-ue,  and  the  bold  ; 

A  bumper  I  drain,  and  with  might  and  main 

Give  three  cheers  for  this  Christmas  old. 

We'll  usher  him  in  with  a  merry  din 

That  shall  gladden  his  joyous  heart. 

And  we  11  keep  him  up  while  there's  bite  or  sap, 

And  in  fellowship  good,  we'll  part. 

In  his  fine  honest  pride,  he  scorns  to  hide 

One  jot  of  his  hard- weather  scars ; 

They're  no  disgrace,  for  there's  much  the  »amo  traoo 

On  the  cheeks  of  our  bravest  tars. 

Then  again  I  sing  'till  the  roof  doth  ring, 

And  it  echoes  from  wall  to  wall — 

To  the  stout  old  wight,  fair  welcome  to-night, 

As  the  King  of  the  Seasons  all ! 

This  song  was  tumultuously  applauded,  for  friends  and  dependents 
make  a  capital  audience  ;  and  the  poor  relations  especially  were  in  perfect 
extasies  of  rapture.  Again  was  the  fire  replenished,  and  again  went  the 
wassj'jl  round. 

"  How  it  snows !  "  said  one  of  the  men,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Snows,  does  it?  "  said  Wardle. 

*'  Rough,  cold  night,  Sir,"  replied  the  man ;  "  and  there's  a  wind  got 
up,  that  drifts  it  across  the  fields,  in  a  thick  white  cloud." 

**  What  does  Jem  say  ?  "  inquired  the  old  lady.  "  There  ain't  any 
thing  the  matter,  is  there  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  mother,"  replied  Wardle;  **  he  says  there's  a  snow-drift, 
and  a  wind  that's  piercing  cold.  I  should  know  that,  by  the  way  it 
rumbles  in  the  chimney." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  old  lady,  "  there  was  just  such  a  wind,  and  just  such 
a  fall  of  snow,  a  good  many  years  back,  I  recollect — ^just  five  years 
before  your  poor  father  died.  It  was  a  Christmas  eve,  too ;  and  I 
remember  that  on  that  very  night  he  told  us  the  story  about  the  goblins 
that  carried  away  old  Gabriel  Grub." 

"  The  story  about  what  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Oh,  nothing  — nothing,"  replied  Wardle.  "  About  an  old  sexton, 
that  the  good  people  down  here  suppose  to  have  been  carried  away  by 
goblins." 

"  Suppose  !  "  ejaculated  the  old  lady.  "  Is  there  any  body  hardy 
onough  to  disbelieve  it?  Suppose  !  Haven't  you  heard  ever  since  you 
were  a  child,  that  he  was  carried  away  by  the  goblins,  and  don't  vou 
know  he  was  ?  " 

"  Very  well,  mother,  he  was,  if  you  like,"  said  Wardle,  laughing. 
"  He  was  carried  away  by  goblins,  Pickwick  ;  and  there's  an  end  of  the 
matter." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "not  an  end  of  it,  I  assure  you;  for 
must  hear  how,  and  why,  and  all  'ibout  \t/' 


f 


THE    PICKWICK    CLITB. 


299 


Wartlle  smiled,  as  every  head  was  bent  forward  to  bear ;  and  fillings 
out  the  wassail  with  no  stinted  hand,  nodded  a  health  to  Mr.  Pickwick, 
and  began  as  follows — 

But  bless  our  editorial  heart,  what  a  long  chapter  we  have  been 
)etrayed  into  !  We  had  quite  forgotten  all  such  petty  restrictions  as 
chapters,  we  solemnly  declare.  So  here  goes,  to  give  the  goblin  a  fair 
ttart  in  a  new  one.  A  clear  stage  and  no  favour  for  the  goblins,  ladies 
md  gentlemen,  if  you  please. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


THE   STORY    OF    THE    GOBLINS    WHO    STOLE    A    SEXTON. 

'  In  an  old  abbey  town,  down  in  this  part  of  the  country,  a  long, 
long  while  ago — so  long,  that  the  story  must  be  a  true  one,  because 
[our  great  grandfathers  implicitly  believed  it — there  officiated  as  sexton 
land  grave-digger  in  the  church-yard,   one  Gabriel   Grub.     It  by  no 
lineans  follows   that  because  a  man  is  a  sexton,   and  constantly  sur- 
pounded  by  emblems  of  mortality,  therefore  he  should  be  a  morose  and 
lelancholy  man  ;   your  undertakers  are  the  merriest  fellows  in  the 
f'orid,   and  I  once  had  the  honour  of  being  on  intimate  terms  with  a 
[mute,  who  in  private  life,   and  off   duty,  was  as  comical  and  jocose  a 
little  fellow  as  ever  chirped  out  a  devil-may-care  song,  without  a  hitch 
[in  his  memory,  or  drained  off  a  good  stiff  glass  of  grog  without  stopping 
for  breath.     But  notwithstanding  these  precedents  to  the  contrary,  Ga- 
)riel  Grub  was  an  ill-conditioned,  cross-grained,  surly  fellow — a  morose 
land  lonely  man,  who  consorted  with  nobody  but  himself,  and  an  old 
dicker  bottle  which  fitted  into  his  large  deep  waistcoat  pocket;  and  who 
iyed  each  merry  face  as  it  passed  him  by,  with   such  a  deep  scowl  of 
lalice  and  ill-humour,  as  it  was  diflScult  to  meet  without  feeling  some- 
thing the  wor^e  for. 

*'  A  little  b^^fore  twilight  one  Christmas  eve,  Gabriel  shouldered  his 
spade,  lighted  his  lantern,  and  betook  himself  towards  the  old  church- 
rard,  for  he  had  got  a  grave  to  finish  by  next  morning,  and  feeling  very 
low  he  thought  it  might  raise  his  spirits  perhaps,  if  he  went  on  with  his 
rork  at  once.  As  he  wended  his  way,  up  the  ancient  stree't,  he  saw  the 
iheerful  light  of  the  blazing  fires  gleam  through  the  old  casements, 
md  heard  the  loud  laugh  and  the  cheerful  shouts  of  those  who  were 
ssembled  around  them ;  he  marked  the  bustling  preparations  for  next 
lay's  good  cheer,  and  smelt  the  numerous  savoury  odours  consequent 
thereupon,  as  they  steamed  up  from  the  kitchen  windows  in  clouds.  All 
this  was  gall  and  wormwood  to  the  heart  of  Gabriel  Grub  ;  and  as  groups 
»f  children,  bounded  out  of  the  houses,  tripped  across  the  road,  and 
i^ere  met,  before  they  could  knock  at  the  opposite  door,  by  half  a  dozen 
curly-headed  little  rascals  who  crowded  round  them  as  they  flocked  up 
stairs  to  spend  the  evening  in  their  Christmas  games,  Gabriel  smiled 
grimly,  and  clutched  the  handle  of  his  spade  with  a  firmer  grasp,  as  he 


800  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS   OP 

thoug-ht  of  raeaeles,  scarlet-fever,  thrush,  hoopingf-cough,  and  a  good 
many  other  sources  of  consolation  beside. 

"  In  this  happy  frame  of  mind,  Gabriel  strode  along,  returning  a 
short,  sullen  growl  to  the  good-humoured  greetings  of  such  of  his  neigh- 
bours as  now  and  then  passed  him,  until  he  turned  into  the  dark  lane 
which  led  to  the  churchyard.  Now  Gabriel  had  been  looking  forward 
to  reaching  the  dark  lane,  because  it  was,  generally  speaking,  a  nice 
gloomy  mournful  place,  into  which  the  towns-people  did  not  much  care 
to  go,  except  in  broad  day-light,  and  when  the  sun  was  shining;  conse- 
quently he  was  not  a  little  indignant  to  hear  a  young  urchin  roaring  out 
some  jolly  song  about  a  merry  Christmas,  in  this  very  sanctuary,-  which 
had  been  called  Coffin  Lane  ever  since  the  days  of  the  old  abbey,  and 
the  time  of  the  shaven-headed  monks.  As  Gabriel  walked  on,  and  the 
voice  drew  nearer,  he  found  it  proceeded  from  a  small  boy,  who  was 
hurr}'ing  along,  to  join  one  of  the  little  parties  in  the  old  street,  and  who, 
partly  to  keep  himself  company,  and  partly  to  prepare  himself  for  the 
occasion,  was  shouting  out  the  song  at  the  highest  pitch  of  his  lungs. 
So  Gabriel  waited  till  the  boy  came  up,  and  then  dodged  him  into  a 
corner,  and  rapped  him  over  the  head  with  his  lantern  five  or  six  times, 
just  to  teach  him  to  modulate  his  voice.  And  as  the  boy  hurried  away 
with  his  hand  to  his  head,  singing  quite  a  diff'erent  sort  of  tune,  Ga- 
briel Grub  chuckled  very  heartily  to  himself,  and  entered  the  church- 
yard, locking  the  gate  behind  him. 

"  He  took  off  his  coat,  set  down  his  lantern,  and  getting  into  the  unfi- 
nished grave,  worked  at  it  for  an  hour  or  so,  with  right  good  will.  But 
the  earth  was  hardened  with  the  frost,  and  it  was  no  very  easy  matter  to 
break  it  up,  and  shovel  it  out ;  and  although  there  was  a  moon,  it  was  a 
very  young  one,  and  shed  little  light  upon  the  grave,  which  was  in  the 
shadow  of  the  church.  At  any  other  time,  these  obstacles  would  have 
made  Gabriel  Grub  very  moody  and  miserable,  but  he  was  so  well  pleased 
with  having  stopped  the  small  boy's  singing,  that  he  took  little  heed  of 
the  scanty  progress  he  had  made,  and  looked  down  into  the  grave  when 
he  had  finished  work  for  the  night,  with  grim  satisfaction,  murmuring 
as  he  gathered  up  his  things  — 

Brave  lodgings  for  one,  brave  lodgings  for  one, 
A  few  feet  of  cold  earth,  when  life  is  done ; 
,    A  stone  at  the  head,  a  stone  at  the  feet, 
A  rich,  juicy  meal  for  the  worms  to  eat ; 
Eank  grass  over  head,  and  damp  clay  around. 
Brave  lodgings  for  one,  these,  iu  holy  ground  I 

"  *  Ho !  ho !  *  laughed  Gabriel  Grub,  as  he  sat  himself  down  on  a 
flat  tombstone  which  was  a  favourite  resting  place  of  his  ;  and  drew  forth 
his  wicker  bottle.  *  A  coffin  at  Christmas — a  Christmas  Box.  Ho  I 
ho!  ho!' 

*'  *  Ho !  ho !  ho !  repeated  a  voice  which  soituded  close  behind 
him. 

"  Gabriel  paused  in  some  alarm,  in  the  act  of  raising  the  wicker  bottle 
to  his  lips,  and  looked  round.  The  bottom  of  the  oldest  grave  about 
him,  was  not  more  still  and  quiet,  than  the  churchyard  in  the  pale 


w^ 


i 


'^:,VJtl..lN     '■•%■■ 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  301 

moonlight.  The  cold  hoar  frost  glistened  on  the  tomb  Rtones,  and 
sparkled  like  rows  of  gems  among-  the  stone  carving-s  of  the  old  church. 
The  snow  lay  hard  and  crisp  upon  the  ground,  and  spread  over  the 
thickly-strewn  mounds  of  earth,  so  white  and  smooth  a  cover,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  corpses  lay  there,  hidden  only  by  their  winding-  sheets. 
Not  the  faintest  rustle  broke  the  profound  tranquillity  of  the  solemn 
scene.  Sound  itself  appeared  to  be  frozen  up,  all  was  so  cold  and 
still. 

"  '  It  was  the  echoes,  *  said  Gabriel  Grub,  raising  the  bottle  to  his 
lips  again. 

"  '  It  was  710^," '  said  a  deep  voice. 

*'  Gabriel  started  up,  and  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  with  astonishment 
and  terror ;  for  his  eyes  rested  on  a  form  which  made  his  ood  run 
cold. 

"  Seated  on  an  upright  tombstone,  close  to  him,  was  a  strange  un- 
earthly figure,  whom  Gabriel  felt  at  once,  was  no  being  of  this  world. 
His  long  fantastic  legs  which  might  have  reached  the  ground,  were 
cocked  up,  and  crossed  after  a  quaint,  fantastic  fashion  ;  his  sinewy  arms 
were  bare,  and  his  hands  rested  on  his  knees.  On  his  short  round  body 
he  wore  a  close  covering,  ornamented  with  small  slashes ;  and  a  short 
cloak  dangled  at  his  back  ;  the  collar  was  cut  into  curious  peaks,  which 
served  the  goblin  in  lieu  of  ruff  or  neckerchief;  and  his  shoes  curled  up 
at  the  toes  into  long  points.  On  his  head  he  wore  a  broad-brimmed 
J  igar  loaf  hat,  garnished  with  a  single  feather.  The  hat  was  covered 
with  the  white  frost,  and  the  goblin  looked  as  if  he  had  sat  on  the  same 
tombstone  very  comfortably,  for  two  or  three  hundred  years.  He  was 
sitting  perfectly  still ;  his  tongue  was  put  out,  as  if  in  derision  ;  and  he 
was  grinning  at  Gabriel  Grub  with  such  a  grin  as  only  a  goblin  could 
call  up. 

"  '  It  was  not  the  echoes,"  '  said  the  goblin. 

*'  Gabriel  Grub  was  paralysed,  and  could  make  no  reply. 

"  *  What  do  you  do  here  on  Christmas  eve  ?  '  said  the  goblin  sternly. 

**  *  I  came  to  dig  a  grave  Sir, '  stammered  Gabriel  Grub. 

"  '  What  man  wanders  among  graves  and  churchyards  on  such  a  night 
as  this?  '  said  the  goblin. 

"  *  Gabriel  Grub  I  Gabriel  Grub! '  screamed  a  wild  chorus  of  voices 
that  seemed  to  fill  the  church-yard.  Gabriel  looked  fearfully  round — 
nothing  was  to  be  seen. 

"  '  What  have  you  got  in  that  bottle  ?  '  said  the  goblin. 

"  '  Hollands,  Sir,'  replied  the  sexton,  trembling  more  than  ever; 
for  he  had  bought  it  of  the  smugglers,  and  he  thought  that  perhaps  his 
questioner  might  be  in  the  excise  department  of  the  goblins. 

"  '  Who  drinks  Hollands  alone,  and  in  a  church-yard,  on  such  a 
night  as  this?'  said  the  goblin. 

"  '  Gabriel  Grub  !  Gabriel  Grub  !'  exclaimed  the  wild  voices  again. 

*'  The  goblin  leered  maliciously  at  the  terrified  sexton,  and  then 
raising  his  voice,  exclaimed — 

"  '  And  who,  then,  is  our  fair  and  lawful  prize  ?' 

**  To  this  inquiry  the  invisible  chorus  replied,  in  a  strain  that  soundea 


802  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

like  the  voices  of  many  choristers  singing  to  the  mighty  swell  of  the 
old  church  organ — a  strain  that  seemed  borne  to  the  sexton's  ears  upon 
a  gentle  wind,  and  to  die  away  as  its  soft  breath  passed  onward — but  the 
burden  of  the  reply  was  still  the  same,  *  Gabriel  Grub  I  Gabriel  Grub  T 

"*  The  goblin  grinned  a  broader  grin  than  before,  as  he  said,  *  Well, 
Gabriel,  what  do  you  say  to  t'his  ? ' 

"  The  sexton  gasped  for  breath. 

"  *  What  do  you  think  of  this,  Gabriel?'  said  the  goblin,  kicking  up 
his  feet  in  the  air  on  either  side  the  tombstone,  and  looking  at  the 
turned-up  points  with  as  much  complacency  as  if  he  had  been  con- 
templating the  most  fashionable  pair  of  Wellingtons  in  all  Bond  Street. 

"  *  It's — it's— very  curious,  Sir,'  replied  the  sexton,  half  dead  with 
fright,  *  very  curious,  and  very  pretty,  but  I  think  I'll  go  back  and 
finish  my  work.  Sir,  if  you  please.' 

"  '  Work ! '  said  the  goblin,  *  what  work  ? ' 

"  '  The  grave,  Sir,  making  the  grave,'  stammered  the  sexton. 

'*  *  Oh,  the  grave,  eh  ? '  said  the  goblin,  *  who  makes  graves  at  a 
time  when  all  other  men  are  merry,  and  takes  a  pleasure  in  it  ? ' 

"  Again  the  mysterious  voices  replied,  '  Gabriel  Grub  !  Gabriel 
Grub  I' 

"  *  I'm  afraid  my  friends  want  you,  Gabriel,'  said  the  goblin,  thrusting 
his  tongue  further  into  his  cheek  than  ever — and  a  most  astonishing 
tongue  it  was — ^  I'm  afraid  my  friends  want  you,  Gabriel,'  said  the 
goblin. 

"  *  Under  favour.  Sir,*  replied  the  horror-struck  sexton,  *  I  don't 
think  they  can,  Sir ;  they  don't  know  me,  Sir ;  I  don't  think  the  gentle- 
men have  ever  seen  me.  Sir.' 

"  *  Oh  yes  they  have^'  replied  the  goblin  ;  *  we  know  the  man  with 
the  sulky  face  and  the  grim  scowl,  that  came  down  the  street  to-night, 
throwing  his  evil  looks  at  the  children,  and  grasping  his  burying  spade 
the  tighter.  We  know  the  man  that  struck  the  boy  in  the  envious 
malice  of  his  heart,  because  the  boy  could  be  merry,  and  he  could  not. 
We  know  him,  we  know  him.* 

"  Here  the  goblin  gave  a  loud  shrill  laugh,  that  the  echoes  returned 
twenty  fold,  and  throwing  his  legs  up  in  the  air,  stood  upon  his  head,  or 
rather  upon  the  very  point  of  his  sugar-loaf  hat,  on  the  narrow  edge  of 
the  tombstone,  from  whence  he  threw  a  summerset  with  extraordinary 
agility,  right  to  the  sexton's  feet,  at  which  he  planted  himself  in  the 
attitude  in  which  tailors  generally  sit  upon  the  shop-board. 

"  '  I — I — am  afraid  I  must  leave  you.  Sir,*  said  the  sexton,  making  tj 
an  effort  to  move. 

"  *  Leave  usT  said  the  goblin,  '  Gabriel  Grub  going  to  leave  u?;^ 
Ho!  ho!  ho!' 

"  As  the  goblin  laughed,  the  sexton  observed  for  one  instant  a  bril-^  j 
liant  illumination  within  the  windows  of  the  church,  as  if  the  wholej 
building  were  lighted  up  ;  it  disappeared,  the  organ  pealed  forth  a  livelyj 
air,  and  whole  troops  oT  goblins,  the  very  counterpart  of  the  first  oneJ 
poured  into  the  churchyard,  and  began  playing  at  leap-frog  with  thej 
tombstones,  never  stopping  for  an  instant  to  take  breath,  but  overinf 


THL    PICKWICK    CLUB.  303 

the  highest  among  them,  one  after  the  other,  with  the  most  marvellous 
dexterity.  The  first  goblin  was  a  most  astonishing  leaper,  and  none  of 
the  others  could  come  near  him ;  even  in  the  extremity  of  his  terror  the 
sexton  could  not  help  observing,  that  while  his  friends  were  content  to 
leap  over  the  common-sized  gravestones,  the  first  one  took  the  family 
yauits,  iron  railings  and  all,  with  as  much  ease  as  if  they  had  been  so 
many  street  posts. 

*  At  last  the  game  reached  to  a  most  exciting  pitch ;  the  organ 
played  quicker  and  quicker,  and  the  goblins  leaped  faster  and  faster, 
coiling  themselves  up,  rolling  head  over  heels  upon  the  ground,  and 
bounding  over  the  tombstones  like  foot-balls.  The  sexton's  brain 
whirled  round  with  the  rapidity  of  the  motion  he  beheld,  and  his  legs 
reeled  beneath  him,  as  the  spirits  flew  before  his  eyes,  when  the  goblin 
king  suddenly  darting  towards  him,  laid  his  hand  upon  his  collar,  and 
sank  with  him  through  the  earth. 

"  When  Gabriel  Grub  had  had  time  to  fetch  his  breath,  which  the 
rapidity  of  his  descent  had  for  the  moment  taken  away,  he  found  himself 
in  what  appeared  to  be  a  large  cavern,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  crowds 
of  goblins,  ugly  and  grim  ;  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  on  an  elevated 
seat,  was  stationed  his  friend  of  the  churchyard  ;  and  close  beside  him 
stood  Gabriel  Grub  himself,  without  the  power  of  motion. 

"  '  Cold  to-ni^ht,'  said  the  king  of  the  goblins,  '  very  cold.  A  glass 
of  something  warm,  here.' 

"  At  this  command,  half  a  dozen  officious  goblins,  with  a  perpetual 
smile  upon  their  faces,  whom  Gabriel  Grub  imagined  to  be  courtiers,  on 
that  account,  hastily  disappeared,  and  presently  returned  with  a  goblet 
of  liquid  fire,  which  they  presented  to  the  king. 

"  *  Ah!'  said  the  goblin,  whose  cheeks  and  throat  were  quite  trans- 
parent, as  he  tossed  down  the  flame,  '  This  warms  one,  indeed  :  bring 
a  bumper  of  the  same,  for  Mr.  Grub.' 

"  It  was  in  vain  for  the  unfortunate  sexton  to  protest  that  he  was 
not  in  tha  habit  of  taking  anything  warm  at  night ;  for  one  of  the  gob- 
lins held  him  while  another  poured  the  blazing  liquid  down  his  throat, 
and  the  whole  assembly  screeched  with  laughter  as  he  coughed  and 
choked,  and  wiped  away  the  tears  which  gushed  plentifully  from  his  eyes, 
after  swallowing  the  burning  draught. 

"  <  Ai>d  now,'  said  the  king,  fantastically  poking  the  taper  corner  of 
his  sugar-loaf  hat  into  the  sexton's  eye,  and  thereby  occasioning  him 
the  most  exquisite  pain — 'And  now,  show  the  man  of  misery  and  gloom 
4  few  of  the  pictures  from  our  own  great  storehouse.' 

"  As  the  goblin  said  this,  a  thick  cloud  which  obscured  the  further 
end  of  the  cavern,  rolled  gradually  away,  and  disclosed,  apparently  at  a 
great  distance,  a  small  and  scantily  furnished,  but  neat  and  clean  apart- 
ment. A  crowd  of  little  children  were  gathered  round  a  bright  fire, 
clinging  to  their  mother's  gown,  and  gambolling  round  her  chair.  The 
mother  occasionally  rose,  and  drew  aside  the  window-curtain  as  if  to 
look  for  some  expected  object ;  a  frugal  meal  was  ready  spread  upon  the 
table,  and  an  elbow  chair  was  placed  near  the  fire.  A  knock  was  heard 
at  the  door :  the  mother  opened  it,  and  the  children  crowded  round  her, 


804  'posthumous  papers  of 

and  clapped  their  hands  for  joy,  as  their  father  entered.  He  was  wet 
and  wean'^,  and  shook  the  snow  from  his  garments,  as  the  children 
crowded  round  him,  and  seizing  his  cloak,  hat,  stick,  and  gloves,  with 
busy  zeal,  ran  with  them  from  the  room.  Then  as  he  sat  down  to  hig 
meal  before  the  fire,  the  children  climbed  about  his  knee,  and  the  mother 
sat  by  his  side,  and  all  seemed  happiness  and  comfort. 

"  But  a  change  came  upon  the  view,  almost  imperceptibly.  Thfe 
scene  was  altered  to  a  small  bed- room,  where  the  fairest  and  youngest 
child  lay  dying  ;  the  roses  had  fled  from  his  cheek,  and  the  light  frotid 
his  eye ;  and  even  as  the  sexton  looked  upon  him  with  an  interest  he 
had  never  felt  or  known  before,  he  died.  His  young  brothers  anA 
sisters  crowded  round  his  little  bed,  and  seized  his  tiny  hand,  so  cold 
and  heavy ;  but  they  shrunk  back  from  its  touch,  and  looked  with  awfe 
on  his  infant  face;  for  calm  and  tranquil  as  it  was,  and*sleeping  in  rest 
and  peace  as  the  beautiful  child  seemed  to  be,  they  saw  that  he  was  dead, 
and  they  knew  that  he  was  an  angel  looking  down  upon,  and  blessing 
them,  from  a  bright  and  happy  Heaven. 

"  Again  the  light  cloud  passed  across  the  picture,  and  again  the  sub- 
ject changed.  The  father  and  mother  were  old  and  helpless  now,  and 
the  number  of  those  about  them  was  diminished  more  than  half;  but 
content  and  cheerfulness  sat  on  every  face,  and  beamed  in  every  eye,  as 
they  crowded  round  the  fireside,  and  told  and  listened  to  old  stories  of 
earlier  and  bygone  days.  Slowly  and  peacefully  the  father  sank  into 
the  grave,  and,  soon  after,  the  sharer  of  all  his  cares  and  troubles 
followed  him  to  a  place  of  rest  and  peace.  The  few,  who  yet  sur- 
vived them,  knelt  by  their  tomb,  and  watered  the  green  turf  which 
covered  it  with  their  tears  ;  then  rose  and  turned  away,  sadly  and 
mournfully,  but  not  with  bitter  cries,  or  despairing  lamentations,  for 
they  knew  that  they  should  one  day  meet  again ;  and  once  more  they 
mixed  with  the  busy  world,  and  their  content  and  cheerfulness  were 
restored.  The  cloud  settled  upon  the  picture,  and  concealed  it  from 
the  sexton's  view. 

"  '  What  do  you  think  of  that  ? '  said  the  goblin,  turning  his  large 
face  towards  Gabriel  Grub. 

"  Gabriel  murmured  out  something  about  its  being  very  pretty,  and 
looked  somewhat  ashamed,  as  the  goblin  bent  his  fiery  eyes  upon  hira. 

**  *  You  a  miserable  man!'  said  the  goblin,  in  a  tone  of  excessive 
contempt.  *  You  !'  He  appeared  disposed  to  add  more,  but  indignation 
choked  his  utterance,  so  he  lifted  up  one  of  his  very  pliable  legs,  and 
flourishing  it  above  his  head  a  little,  to  insure  his  aim,  administered  a 
good  sound  kick  to  Gabriel  Grub ;  immediately  after  which,  all  the 
goblins  in  waiting  crowded  round  the  wretched  sexton,  and  kicked  hirtt 
without  mercy,  according  to  the  established  and  invariable  custom  of 
courtiers  upon  earth,  who  kick  whotn  royalty  kicks,  and  hug  whom 
royalty  hugs. 

"  '  Show  him  some  more, '  said  the  king  of  the  goblins. 

"  At  these  words  the  cloud  was  again  dispelled,  and  a  rich  and  beau- 
tiful landscape  was  disclosed  to  view — there  is  just  such  another  to  thii 
day,  within  half  a  mile  of  the  old  abbey  town.     The  sun  shone  from  oui 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB.  805 

the  clear  bine  sky,  the  water  sparkled  beneath  his  rays,  and  the  trees 
looked  greener,  and  the  flowers  more  gay,  beneath  his  cheering  influence. 
The  water  rippled  on,  with  a  pleasant  sound,  the  trees  rustled  in  the 
light  wind  that  murmured  among  their  leaves,  the  birds  sang  upon  the 
boughs,  and  the  lark  carolled  on  high,  her  welcome  to  the  morning.  Yes, 
it  was  morning,  the  bright,  balmy  morning  of  summer;  the  minutest 
leaf,  the  smallest  blade  of  grass,  was  instinct  with  life.  The  ant  crept 
forth  to  her  daily  toil,  the  butterfly  fluttered  and  basked  in  the  warm  rayi 
of  the  sun ;  myriads  of  insects  spread  their  transparent  wings,  and  re- 
velled in  their  brief  but  happy  existence.  INIan  walked  forth,  elated 
with  the  scene  ;  and  all  was  brightness  and  splendour. 

"  *  You  a  miserable  man  ! '  said  the  king  of  the  goblins,  in  a  more 
contemptuous  tone  than  before.  And  again  the  king  of  the  goblins 
gave  his  leg  A  flourish ;  again  it  descended  on  the  shoulders  of  the  sex- 
ton ;  and  again  the  attendant  goblins  imitated  the  example  of  their 
chief. 

"  Many  a  time  the  cloud  went  and  came,  and  many  a  lesson  it  taught 
to  Gabriel  Grub,  who  although  his  shoulders  smarted  wit'h  pain  from 
the  frequent  applications  of  the  goblin's  feet  thereunto,  looked  on  with 
an  interest  which  nothing  could  diminish.  He  saw  that  men  who 
worked  hard,  and  earned  their  scanty  bread  with  lives  of  labour,  were 
cheerful  and  happy ;  and  that  to  the  most  ignorant,  the  sweet  face  of 
nature  was  a  never-failing  source  of  cheerfulness  and  joy.  He  saw  those 
who  had  been  delicately  nurtured,  and  tenderly  brought  up,  cheerful 
under  privations,  and  superior  to  sufl'ering,  that  would  have  crushed 
many  of  a  rougher  grain,  because  they  bore  within  their  own  bosoms 
the  materials  of  happiness,  contentment,  and  peace.  He  saw  that  women, 
the  tenderest  and  most  fragile  of  all  God's  creatures,  were  the  oftenest 
superior  to  sorrow,  adversity,  and  distress ;  and  he  saw  that  it  was  be- 
cause they  bore  in  their  own  hearts  an  inexhaustible  well-spring  of 
afi'ection  and  devotedness.  Above  all,  he  saw  that  men  like  himself, 
Avho  snarled  at  the  mirth  and  cheerfulness  of  others,  were  the  foulest 
weeds  on  the  fair  surface  of  the  earth ;  and  setting  all  the  good  of  the 
world  against  the  evil,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  a  very 
decent  and  respectable  sort  of  world  after  all.  No  sooner  had  he  formed 
it,  than  the  cloud  which  had  closed  over  the  last  picture,  seemed  to 
settle  on  his  senses,  and  lull  him  to  repose.  One  by  one,  the  goblins 
faded  from  his  sight,  and  as  the  last  one  disappeared,  he  sunk  to 
sleep. 

"  The  day  had  broken  when  Gabriel  Grub  awoke,  and  found  himself 
lying  at  full  length  on  the  flat  grave  stone  in  the  church  yard,  with  the 
wicker  bottle  lying  empty  by  his  side,  and  his  coat,  spade,  and  lantern, 
all  well  whitened  by  the  last  night's  frost,  scattered  on  the  ground. 
The  stone  on  which  he  had  first  seen  the  goblin  seated,  stood  bolt  up- 
right before  him,  and  the  grave  at  which  he  had  worked,  the  night 
before,  was  not  far  off".  At  first  he  began  to  doubt  the  reality  of  his 
adventures,  but  the  acute  pain  in  his  shoulders  when  he  attempted  to 
rise,  assured  him  that  the  kicking  of  the  goblins  was  certainly  not  ideal. 
He  was  staggered  again,  by  observing  no  traces  of  footsteps  in  the  snow 


i306  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

on  which  the  goblins  had  played  at  leap  frog  with  the  grave-stones,  hut 
he  speedily  accounted  for  this  circunastance  when  he  remembered  that 
being  spirits,  they  would  leave  no  visible  impression  behind  them.  So 
Gabriel  Grub  got  on  his  feet  as  well  as  he  could,  for  the  pain  in  his 
back;  and  brushing  the  frost  off  his  coat,  put  it  on,  and  turned  his  face 
towards  the  town. 

"  But  he  was  an  altered  man,  and  he  could  not  bear  the  thought  of 
returning  to  a  place  where  his  repentance  would  be  scoffed  it,  and  his 
reformation  disbelieved.  He  hesitated  for  a  few  moments ;  and  then 
turned  away  to  wander  where  he  might,  and  seek  his  bread  elsewhere. 

*^  The  lantern,  the  spade,  and  the  wicker  bottle,  were  found  that  day 
in  the  churchyard.  There  were  a  great  many  speculations  about  the 
sexton's  fate  at  first,  but  it  was  speedily  determined  that  he  had  been 
carried  away  by  the  goblins ;  and  there  were  not  wanting  some  very 
credible  witnesses  who  had  distinctly  seen  him  whisked  through  the  air 
on  the  back  of  a  chestnut  horse  blind  of  one  eye,  with  the  hind  quarters 
of  a  lion,  and  the  tail  of  a  bear.  At  length  all  this  was  devoutly 
believed;  and  the  new  sexton  used  to  exhibit  to  the  curious  for  a 
trifling  emolument,  a  good-sized  piece  of  the  church  weathercock  which 
had  been  accidentally  kicked  off  by  the  aforesaid  horse  in  his  aerial 
flight,  and  picked  up  by  himself  in  the  churchyard,  a  year  or  two 
afterwards. 

"  Unfortunately  these  stories  were  somewhat  disturbed  by  the  un- 
looked-for re-appearance  of  Gabriel  Grub  himself,  some  ten  years  after- 
wards, a  ragged,  contented,  rheumatic  old  man.  He  told  his  story  to 
the  clergyman,  and  also  to  the  mayor;  and  in  course  of  time  it  began 
to  be  received  as  a  matter  of  history,  in  which  form  it  has  con- 
tinued down  to  this  very  day.  The  believers  in  the  weathercock  tale, 
having  misplaced  their  confidence  once,  were  not  easily  prevailed 
upon  to  part  with  it  again,  so  they  looked  as  wise  as  they  could, 
shrugged  their  shoulders,  touched  their  foreheads,  and  murmured 
something  about  Gabriel  Grub's  having  drunk  all  the  Hollands,  and 
then  fallen  asleep  on  the  flat  tombstone  ;  and  they  affected  to  explain 
what  he  supposed  he  had  witnessed  in  the  goblin's  cavern,  by  say- 
ing that  he  had  seen  the  world,  and  grown  wiser.  But  this  opinion, 
which  was  by  no  means  a  popular  one  at  any  time,  gradually  died 
off;  and  be  the  matter  how  it  may,  as  Gabriel  Grub  was  afflicted 
with  rheumatism  to  the  end  of  his  days,  this  story  has  at  least  one 
moral,  if  it  teach  no  better  one — and  that  is,  that  if  a  man  turns 
sulky  and  drinks  by  himself  at  Christmas  time,  he  may  make  up  his 
mind  to  be  not  a  bit  the  better  for  it,  let  the  spirits  be  ever  so  good, 
or  let  them  be  even  as  many  degrees  beyond  proof,  as  those  which 
Gabriel  Grub  saw,  in  the  goblin's  cavern." 


THE  PICKWieK   CLUB.  307 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

HOW  THE  PICKWICKIANS  MADE  AND  CULTIVATED  THE  ACCiUAINT- 
ANCE  OF  A  COUPLE  OF  NICE  YOUNG  MEN  BELONGING  TO  ONE 
OF  THE  LIBERAL  PROFESSIONS  ;  HOW  THEY  DISPORTED  THEM- 
SELVES ON  THE  ICE;  AND  HOW  THEIR  VISIT  CAME  TO  A  CON- 
CLUSION. 

"  Well  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  as  that  favoured  servitor  entered  his 
bed-chamber  with  his  warm  water,  on  the  morning-  of  Christmas  Day, 
"Still  frosty?" 

"  Water  in  the  wash-hand  basin  's  a  mask  o'  ice,  Sir,"  responded  Sam. 

"  Severe  weather,  Sam,"  observed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Fine  time  for  them  as  is  well  wropped  up,  as  the  Polar  Bear  said  to 
himself,  ven  he  was  practising-  his  skaiting,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

*'  I  shall  be  down  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
untying  his  nightcap. 

"  Wery  good.  Sir,"  replied  Sam.  "  There's  a  couple  o'  Sawbones 
down  stairs." 

*'  A  couple  of  what !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  sitting  up  in  bed. 

"  A  couple  o'  Sawbones,"  said  Sam. 

"  What's  a  Sawbones  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  not  quite  certain 
whether  it  was  a  live  animal,  or  something  to  eat. 

"  What!  don't  you  know  what  a  Sawbones  is,  Sir  ?"  enquired  Mr. 
Weller;  "  I  thought  every  body  know'd  as  a  Sawbones  was  a  Surgeon/* 

"  Oh,  a  Surgeon,  eh  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  smile. 

"  Just  that  Sir,"  rephed  Sam.  "  These  here  ones  as  is  below,  though, 
aint  reg'lar  thorough-bred  Sawbones  ;  they're  only  in  trainin'." 

"  In  other  words  they're  Medical  Students,  I  suppose  ?"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

Sam  Weller  nodded  assent. 

"I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  casting  his  nightcap  energeti- 
cally on  the  counterpane,  "  They  are  fine  fellows ;  very  fine  fellows,  with 
judgments  matured  by  observation  and  reflection  ;  and  tastes  refined  by 
reading  and  study.     I  am  very  glad  of  it." 

"  They're  a  smokin'  cigars  by  the  kitchen  fire,"  said  Sam. 

"  Ah  !"  observed  Mr.  Pickwick,  rubbing  his  hands,  "overflowings  with 
kindly  feelings  and  animal  spirits.     Just  what  I  like  to  see !" 

"  And  one  on  *em,"  said  Sam,  not  noticing  his  master's  interruption, 
"  one  on  'em  's  got  his  legs  on  the  table,  and  is  a  drinkin'  brandy  neat, 
vile  the  tother  one — him  in  the  barnacles — has  got  a  barrel  o'  oysters 
atween  his  knees,  vich  he'«  a  openin'  like  steam,  and  as  fast  as  he  eats 
'em,  he  takes  a  aim  vith  the  shells  at  young  dropsy,  who's  a  settin'  down 
fast  asleep,  in  the  chimbley  corner." 

A  A 


308  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 

"  Eccentricities  of  genius,  Sam/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  You  may 
retire." 

Sam  did  retire  accordingly  ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick,  at  the  expiration  of 
the  quarter  of  an  hour,  went  down  to  breakfast. 

"  Here  he  is  at  last,"  said  old  Wardle.  "  Pickwick,  this  is  Miss  Allen's 
brother,  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen — Ben  we  call  him,  and  so  may  you  if  you 
like.     This  gentleman  is  his  very  particular  friend,  Mr. — " 

"  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,"  interposed  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  whereupon  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  laughed  in  concert. 

Mr.  Pic'kwick  bowed  to  Bob  Sawyer,  ana  Bob  Sawyer  bowed  to  Mr. 
Pickwick ;  Bob  and  his  very  particular  friend  then  applied  themselves 
most  assiduously  to  the  eatables  before  them  ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  had 
an  opportunity  of  glancing  at  them  both 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  was  a  coarse,  stout,  thick-set  young  man,  with 
black  hair  cut  rather  short,  and  a  white  face  cut  rather  long.  He  was 
embellished  with  spectacles,  and  wore  a  white  neckerchief.  Below  his 
single-breasted  black  surtout,  which  was  buttoned  up  to  his  chin,  appeared 
the  usual  number  of  pepper-and-salt  coloured  legs,  terminating  in  a  pair 
of  imperfectly  polished  boots.  Although  his  coat  was  short  in  the 
sleeves,  it  disclosed  no  vestige  of  a  linen  wristband ;  and  although 
there  was  quite  enough  of  his  face  to  admit  of  the  encroachment  of  a 
shirt  collar,  it  was  not  graced  by  the  smallest  approach  to  that  appen- 
dage. He  presented  altogether  rather  a  mildewy  appearance,  and 
emitted  a  fragrant  odour  of  full-flavoured  Cubas. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  was  habited  in  a  coarse  blue  coat,  which,  without 
being  either  a  great  coat  or  a  surtout,  partook  of  the  nature  and  quali- 
ties of  both,  had  about  him  that  sort  of  slovenly  smartness,  and  swag- 
gering gait,  which  is  peculiar  to  young  gentlemen  who  smoke  in  the 
streets  by  day,  shout  and  scream  in  the  same  by  night,  call  waiters  by 
their  christian  names,  and  do  various  other  acts  and  deeds  of  an  equally 
facetious  description.  He  wore  a  pair  of  plaid  trousers,  and  a  large 
rough  double-breasted  waistcoat ;  and  out  of  doors,  carried  a  thick  stick 
with  a  big  top.  He  eschewed  gloves,  and  looked,  upon  the  whole,  some- 
thing like  a  dissipated  Robinson  Crusoe. 

Such  were  the  two  worthies  to  whom  Mr.  Pickwick  was  introduced, 
as  he  took  his  seat  at  the  breakfast  table  on  Christmas  morning. 

*•  Splendid  morning,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  slightly  nodded  his  assent  to  the  proposition,  and 
asked  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  for  the  mustard. 

"  Have  you  come  far  this  morning,  gentlemen  ?"  inquired  Mr,  Pick- 
wick. 

"  Blue  Lion  at  Muggleton,"  briefly  responded  Mr.  Allen. 

"  You  should  have  joined  us  last  night,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  So  we  should,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer,  '^  but  the  brandy  was  too  good 
to  leave  in  a  hurry :  wasn't  it,  Ben  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen ;  "  and  the  cigars  were  not  ba£^. 
or  the  pork  chops  either  :  were  they.  Bob  ?"  " 

"Decidedly  not,"  said  Bob.     And  the  particular  friends  resumed 


THK   PICKWICK   CLUB.  309 

their  attack  upon  the  breakfast,  more  freely  than  before,  as  if  the  recol- 
lection of  last  night's  supper  had  imparted  a  new  relish  to  the  meal. 

"  Peg  away,  Bob,"  said  Mr.  Allen  to  his  companion,  encouragingly. 

"  So  I  do,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer.     And  so,  to  do  him  justice,  he  did. 

"  Nothing  like  dissecting,  to  give  one  an  appetite,"  said  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer,  looking  round  the  table. 

Mr.  Pickwick  slightly  shuddered. 

"  By  the  bye,  Bob,"  said  Mr.  Allen,  "  have  you  finished  that  leg  yet  ?' 

"  Nearly,"  replied  Sawyer,  helping  himself  to  half  a  fowl  as  bespoke, 
"  It's  a  very  muscular  one  for  a  child's." 

*'  Is  it  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Allen,  carelessly. 

"  Very,"  said  Bob  Sawyer,  with  his  mouth  full. 

**  I've  put  my  name  down  for  an  arm,  ^t  our  place,'*  said  Mr.  Allen. 
"  We're  clubbing  for  a  subject,  and  the  list  is  nearly  full,  only  we  can't 
get  hold  of  any  fellow  that  wants  a  head.     I  wish  you'd  take  it." 

"No,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer;  "can't  afford  expensive  luxuries," 

"  Nonsense  I"  said  Allen. 

"Can't  indeed,"  rejoined  Bob  Sawyer.  "I  wouldn't  mind  a  brain, 
but  I  couldn't  stand  a  whole  head." 

"  Hush,  hush,  gentlemen,  pray,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  hear  the 
ladies." 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  spoke,  the  ladies,  gallantly  escorted  by  Messrs. 
Snodgrass,  Winkle,  and  Tupman,  returned  from  an  early  walk, 

"  Lor,  Ben  !"  said  Arabella,  in  a  tone  which  expressed  more  surprise 
than  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  her  brother. 

"  Come  to  take  you  home  to-morrow,"  replied  Benjamin. 

Mr.  Winkle  turned  pale. 

"Don't  you  see  Bob  Sawyer,  Arabella?"  enquired  Mr.  Benjamin 
Alien,  somewhat  reproachfully.  Arabella  gracefully  held  out  her  hand, 
in  acknowledgment  of  Bob  Sawyer's  presence.  A  thrill  of  hatred  struck 
to  Mr.  Winkle's  heart,  as  Bob  Sawyer  inflicted  on  the  proffered  hand  a 
perceptible  squeeze. 

"Ben  dear!"  said  Arabella,  blushing;  "  have-^have— you  been  in- 
troduced to  Mr.  Winkle  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  been,  but  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  be,  Arabella,"  replied 
her  brother  gravely.  Here  Mr.  Allen  bowed  grimly  to  Mr.  Winkle, 
while  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  glanced  mutual  distrust  out  of 
the  corners  of  their  eyes. 

The  arrival  of  the  two  new  visitors,  and  the  consequent  check  upon 
Mr.  Winkle  and  the  young  lady  with  the  fur  round  her  boots,  would  in 
all  probability  have  proved  a  very  unpleasant  interruption  to  the  hila- 
rity of  the  party,  had  not  the  cheerfulness  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  the 
good  humour  of  the  host,  been  exerted  to  the  very  utmost  for  the  com- 
mon weal.  Mr.  Winkle  gradually  insinuated  himself  into  the  good 
graces  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  and  even  joined  in  a  friendly  conversa- 
tion with  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer ;  who,  enlivened  with  the  brandy,  and  the 
breakfast,  and  the  talking,  gradually  ripened  into  a  state  of  extreme 
facetiousness,  and  related  with  much  glee  an  agreeable  anecdote,  about 
the  removal  of  a  tumour  on  some  gentleman's  head,  which  he  illustrated 

A  a2 


310  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 

by  means  of  an  oyster-knife  and  a  half-quartern  loaf,  to  the  great  edifi- 
cation of  the  assembled  company.  Then  the  whole  train  went  to 
church,  where  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  fell  fast  asleep ;  while  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  abstracted  his  thoughts  from  worldly  matters,  by  the  ingenious 
process  of  carving  his  name  on  the  seat  of  the  pew,  in  corpulent  letters 
of  about  four  inches  long. 

"  Now,"  said  Wardle,  after  a  substantial  lunch,  with  the  agreeable 
items  of  strong-beer  and  cherry-brandy,  had  been  done  ample  justice  to ; 
*'  what  say  you  to  an  hour  on  the  ice  ?  We  shall  have  plenty  of 
time." 

"  Capital !"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

"Prime  !"  ejaculated  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

*'  You  skait,  of  course.  Winkle  ?"  said  Wardle. 

•'*  Ye—yes  ;  oh,  yes ;"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  "  I — I — am  rather  out 
of  practice." 

"  Oh,  do  skait,  Mr.  Winkle,"  said  Arabella.  "  I  like  to  see  it  so 
much." 

"  Oh,  it  is  so  graceful,"  said  another  young  lady. 

A  third  young  lady  said  it  was  elegant,  and  a  fourth  expressed  her 
opinion  that  it  was  "  swan-like." 

"  I  should  be  very  happy,  I'm  sure,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  reddening ; 
"  but  I  have  no  skaits." 

This  objection  was  at  once  overruled.  Trundle  had  got  a  couple  of 
pair,  and  the  fat  boy  announced  that  there  were  half-a-dozen  more,  down 
stairs,  whereat  Mr.  Winkle  expressed  exquisite  delight,  and  looked 
exquisitely  uncomfortable. 

Old  Wardle  led  the  way  to  a  pretty  large  sheet  of  ice  ;  and  the  fat 
boy  and  Mr.  Weller,  having  shovelled  and  swept  away  the  snow  which 
had  fallen  on  it  during  the  night,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  adjusted  his  skaits 
with  a  dexterity  which  to  Mr.  Winkle  was  perfectly  marvellous,  and 
described  circles  with  his  left  leg,  and  cut  figures  of  eight;  and  inscribed 
upon  the  ice,  without  once  stopping  for  breath,  a  great  many  other 
pleasant  and  astonishing  devices,  to  the  excessive  satisfaction  of  Mr. 
Pickwick,  Mr.  Tupman,  and  the  ladies;  which  reached  a  pitch  of  positive 
enthusiasm,  when  old  Wardle  and  Benjamin  Allen,  assisted  by  the  afore- 
said Bob  Sawyer,  performed  some  muystic  evolutions,  which  they  called 
a  reel. 

All  this  time,  Mr.  Winkle,  with  his  face  and  hands  blue  with  the 
cold,  had  been  forcing  a  gimlet  into  the  soles  of  his  feet,  and  putting 
his  skaits  on,  with  the  points  behind,  and  getting  the  straps  into  a  very 
complicated  and  entangled  state,  with  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
who  knew  rather  less  about  skaits  t!han  a  Hindoo.  At  length,  however, 
with  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Weller,  the  unfortunate  skaits  were  firmly 
screwed  and  buckled  on,  and  Mr.  Winkle  was  raised  to  his  feet. 

"  Now,  then.  Sir,"  said  Sam,  in  an  encouraging  tone ;  "  off  vith 
you,  and  show  'em  bow  to  do  it." 

*'  Stop,  Sam,  stop,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  trembling  violently,  and  clutch- 
ing hold  of  Sam's  arms  with  the  grasp  of  a  drowning  man.  "  How 
slippery  it  is,  Sam  I " 


THE  PICKWICK    CLUB.  811 

•*  Not  au  uncommon  thing"  upon  ice.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 
"  Hold  up,  Sir." 

This  last  observation  of  Mr.  Weller's  bore  reference  to  a  demonstra- 
tion Mr.  Winkle  made  at  the  instant,  of  a  frantic  desire  to  throw  his 
feet  in  the  air,  and  dash  the  back  of  his  head  on  the  ice. 

"  These — these — are  very  awkward  skaits  ;  ain't  they,  Sam  ?  "  en- 
quired Mr.  Winkle,  staggering. 

"  I'm  afeerd  there's  an  orkard  gen'lm'n  in  'em,  Sir,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Now,  Winkle,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  quite  unconscious  that  there 
was  anything  the  matter.     *'  Come  ;  the  ladies  are  all  anxiety." 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  with  a  ghastly  smile.   "I'm  coming." 

"  Just  a  goin'  to  begin,"  said  Sam,  endeavouring  to  disengage  himself. 
"  Now,  Sir,  start  off." 

"  Stop  an  instant,  Sam,"  gasped  Mr.  Winkle,  clinging  most  affec- 
tionately to  Mr.  Weller.  "I  find  I've  got  a  couple  of  coats  at  home,  that 
I  don't  want,  Sam.     You  may  have  them,  Sam." 

"  Thank'ee,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Never  mind  touching  your  hat,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  hastily. 
"  You  needn't  take  your  hand  away,  to  do  that.  I  meant  to  have  given 
you  five  shillings  this  morning  for  a  Christmas-box,  Sam.  I'll  give  it 
you  this  afternoon,  Sam." 

*'  You're  wery  good,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Just  hold  me  at  first,  Sam;  will  you?"  said  Mr.  Winkle.  "  There 
— that's  right.  I  shall  soon  get  in  the  way  of  it,  Sam.  Not  too  fast, 
Sam  ;  not  too  fast." 

Mr.  Winkle,  stooping  forward  with  his  body  half  doubled  up,  was 
being  assisted  over  the  ice  by  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  very  singular  and 
un-swan-like  manner,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  most  innocently  shouted  from 
the  opposite  bank — 

"  Sam !" 

«  Sir?"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Here.     I  want  you." 

•*  Let  go.  Sir,"  said  Sam.  "  Don't  you  hear  the  governor  a  callin'  ? 
Let  go.  Sir." 

With  a  violent  effort,  Mr.  Weller  disengaged  himself  from  the  grasp 
of  the  agonized  Pickwickian ;  and,  in  so  doing,  administered  a  consider- 
able impetus  to  the  unhappy  Mr.  Winkle.  With  an  accuracy  which 
no  degree  of  dexterity  or  practice  could  have  ensured,  that  unfortunate 
gentleman  bore  swiftly  down  into  the  centre  of  the  reel,  at  the  very 
moment  when  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  performing  a  flourish  of  unparalleled 
beauty.  Mr.  Winkle  struck  wildly  against  him,  and  with  a  loud  crash 
they  both  fell  heavily  down.  Mr.  Pickwick  ran  to  the  spot.  Boh  Saw- 
yer had  risen  to  his  feet,  but  Mr.  Winkle  was  far  too  wise  to  do  any- 
thing of  the  kind  in  skaits.  He  was  seated  on  the  ice,  making  spasmo- 
dic efforts  to  smile ;  but  anguish  was  depicted  on  every  lineament  of  his 
countenance. 

*'  Are  you  hurt  ?"  enquired  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  with  great 
anxiety. 

"  Not  much,"  said  Mr.  Wrinkle,  rubbing  his  back  very  hard. 


312  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS    OP 

"  I  wish  you'd  let  me  bleed  you/'  said  Mr.  Bfeiijamin  with  great  eager- 
ness. 

"  No,  thauk  you,"  feplied  Mr.  Winkle  hurriedly. 

"  I  really  think  yoU  had  better,"  said  Allen. 

«'  Thank  you,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle  ;  "  I'd  rather  not." 

"  W  hat  do  you  think,  Mr.  Pickwick  ?  "  enquired  Bob  Sawyer. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  excited  and  indignant.  He  beckoned  to  Mr.  Wel- 
ler,  and  said  in  a  stern  voice,  "  Take  his  skaits  off." 

"  No ;  but  really  I  had  scarcely  begun,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Take  his  skaits  off,"  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick  firmly. 

The  command  was  not  to  be  resisted.  Mr.  Winkle  allowed  Sam  to 
obey  it,  in  silence. 

<'  Lift  him  up,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     Sam  assisted  him  to  rise. 

Mr.  Pickwick  retired  a  few  paces  apart  from  the  by-standers  ;  and, 
beckoning  his  friend  to  approach,  fixed  a  searching  look  upon  him,  and 
uttered  in  a  low,  but  distinct  and  emphatic  tone,  these  remarkable 
words : 

"  You're  a  humbug.  Sir." 

"  A  what  !^'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  starting. 

"  A  humbug,  Sir.  I  will  speak  plainer,  if  you  wish  it.  An  impostor, 
Sir." 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Pickwick  turned  slowly  on  his  heel,  and 
rejoined  his  friends. 

While  Mr.  Pickwick  was  delivering  himself  of  the  sentiment  just 
recorded,  Mr.  Weller  and  the  fat  boy,  having  by  their  joint  endeavours 
cut  out  a  slide,  were  exercising  themselves  thereupon,  in  a  very  masterly 
and  brilliant  manner.  Sam  Weller,  in  particular,  was  displaying  that 
beautiful  feat  of  fancy  sliding  which  is  currently  denominated  "  knock- 
ing at  the  cobbler's  door,"  and  which  is  achieved  by  skimming  over  the 
ice  on  one  foot,  and  occasionally  giving  a  two-penny  postman's  knock 
upon  it,  with  the  other.  It  was  a  good  long  slide,  and  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  motion  which  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  very  cold  with  stand- 
ing still,  could  not  help  envying. 

"  It  looks  a  nice  warm  exercise  that,  doesn't  it?"  he  enquired  of 
Wardle,  when  that  gentleman  was  thoroughly  oiit  of  breath,  by  reason 
of  the  indefatigable  manner  in  which  he  had  converted  his  legs  into  a 
pair  of  compasses,  and  drawn  complicated  problems  on  the  ice. 

'*  Ah,  it  does,  indeed,"  replied  Wardle.     "  Do  you  slide  ?" 

*'  I  used  to  do  so,  on  the  gutters,  when  I  was  a  boy,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Try  it  now,"  said  Wardle. 

"  Oh  do,  please,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  cried  all  the  ladies. 

"  I  should  be  very  happy  to  afford  you  any  amusement,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick,  "  but  I  haven't  done  such  a  thing  these  thirty  years." 

"Pooh!  pooh!  nonsense!"  said  Wardle,  dragging  off  his  skaits 
with  the  impetuosity  which  characterised  all  his  proceedings.  "  Here; 
I'll  keep  you  company  ;  come  along."  And  away  went  the  good  tem- 
pered old  fellow  down  the  slide,  with  a  rapidity  which  came  very  close 
upon  Mr.  Weller,  and  beat  the  fat  boy  all  to  nothing. 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB.  313 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  considered,  pulled  off  his  gloves  and  put  them 
in  his  hat,  took  two  or  three  short  runs,  baulked  himself  as  often,  and 
at  last  took  another  run  and  went  slowly  and  gravely  down  the  slide, 
with  his  feet  about  a  yard  and  a  quarter  apart,  amidst  the  gratified  shouts 
of  all  the  spectators. 

"  Keep  the  pot  a  bilin',  Sir,"  said  Sam  ;  and  down  went  Wardle  again, 
and  then  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  then  Sara,  and  then  Mr.  Winkle,  and  then 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  and  then  the  fat  boy,  and  then  Mr.  Snodgrass,  follow- 
ing closely  upon  each  other's  heels,  and  running  after  each  other  with 
as  much  eagerness  as  if  all  their  future  prospects  in  life  depended  on 
their  expedition. 

It  was  the  most  intensely  interesting  thing,  to  observe  the  manner  in 
which  Mr.  Pickwick  performed  his  share  in  the  ceremony:  to  watch  the 
torture  of  anxiety  with  which  he  viewed  the  person  behind,  gaining 
upon  him  at  the  imminent  hazard  of  tripping  him  up :  to  see  him  gra- 
dually expend  the  painful  force  which  he  had  put  on  at  first,  and  turn 
slowly  round  on  the  slide,  with  his  face  towards  the  point  from  which  he 
had  started  :  to  contemplate  the  playful  smile  which  mantled  on  his  face 
when  he  had  accomplished  the  distance,  and  the  eagerness  with  which 
he  turned  round  when  he  had  done  so,  and  ran  after  his  predecessor,  his 
black  gaiters  tripping  pleasantly  through  the  snow,  and  his  eyes  beam- 
ing cheerfulness  and  gladness  through  his  spectacles.  And  when  he 
was  knocked  down,  (which  happened  upon  the  average  every  third  round), 
it  was  the  most  invigorating  sight  that  can  possibly  be  imagined,  to 
behold  him  gather  up  his  hat,  gloves,  and  handkerchief,  with  a  glowing 
countenance,  and  resume  his  station  in  the  rank,  with  an  ardour  and 
enthusiasm  which  nothing  could  abate. 

The  sport  was  at  its  height,  the  sliding  was  at  the  quickest,  the 
laughter  was  at  the  loudest,  when  a  sharp  smart  crack  was  heard. 
There  was  a  quick  rush  towards  the  bank,  a  wild  scream  from  the  ladies, 
and  a  shout  from  Mr.  Tupman.  A  large  mass  of  ice  disappeared,  the 
water  bubbled  up  over  it,  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  hat,  gloves,  and  handker- 
chief were  floating  on  the  surface ;  and  this  was  all  of  Mr.  Pickwick  that 
anybody  could  see. 

Dismay  and  anguish  were  depicted  on  every  countenance  ;  the  males 
tuvned  pale,  and  the  females  fainted ;  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle 
grasped  each  other  by  the  hand,  and  gazed  at  the  spot  where  their  leader 
bad  gone  down,  with  frenzied  eagerness  ;  while  Mr.  Tupman,  by  way 
r»f  rendering  the  promptest  assistance,  and  at  the  same  time  conveying 
to  any  persons  who  might  be  within  hearing  the  clearest  possible  notion 
of  the  catastrophe,  ran  off  across  the  country  at  his  utmost  speed, 
screaming  "  Fire  !  "  with  all  his  might  and  main. 

It  was  at  this  very  moment,  when  old  Wardle  and  Sam  Weller  were 
approaching  the  hole  with  cautious  steps,  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  was 
holding  a  hurried  consultation  with  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  on  the  advisability 
of  bleeding  the  company  generally,  as  an  improving  little  bit  of  profes- 
sional practice — it  was  at  this  very  moment  that  a  face,  head,  and 
shoulders  emerged  from  beneath  the  water,  and  disclosed  the  features 
and  spectacles  of  Mr.  Pickwick 


I 


814  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 


**  Keep  yourself  up  for  an  inst'ant — for  only  one  instant,"  bawled  Mr. 
Snodgrass. 

"  Yes,  do  ;  let  me  implore  you — for  my  sake,"  roared  Mr.  Winkle, 
deeply  affected.  The  adjuration  was  rather  unnecessary ;  the  probability 
being,  that  if  Mr.  Pickwick  had  declined  to  keep  himself  up  for  any- 
body else's  sake,  it  would  have  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  as  well 
do  so,  for  his  own. 

"  Do  you  feel  the  bottom  there,  old  fellow  ?"  said  Wardle. 

"Yes,  certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  wringing  the  water  from  his 
head  and  face,  and  gasping  for  breath.  "  1  fell  upon  my  back.  I  couldn't 
get  on  my  feet  at  first." 

The  clay  upon  so  much  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  coat  as  was  yet  visible, 
bore  testimony  to  the  accuracy  of  this  statement ;  and  as  the  fears  of 
the  spectators  were  still  farther  relieved  by  the  fat  boy's  suddenly 
recollecting  that  the  water  was  nowhere  more  than  five  feet  deep, 
prodigies  of  valour  were  performed  to  get  him  out.  After  a  vast  quan- 
tity of  splashing,  and  cracking,  and  struggling,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  at 
length  fairly  extricated  from  his  unpleasant  position,  and  once  more 
stood  on  dry  land. 

"  Oh,  he'll  catch  his  death  of  cold,"  said  Emily. 

"  Dear  old  thing  I"  said  Arabella.  "  Let  me  wrap  this  shawl  round 
you,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

"  Ah,  that's  the  best  thing  you  can  do,"  said  Wardle ;  "  and  when 
you've  got  it  on,  run  home  as  fast  as  your  legs  can  carry  you,  and  jump 
into  bed  directly." 

A  dozen  shawls  were  offered  on  the  instant ;  and  three  or  four  of  the 
thickest  having  been  selected,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  wrapped  up,  and 
started  off,  under  the  guidance  of  Mr.  Weller  ;  presenting  the  singular 
phenomenon  of  an  elderly  gentleman  dripping  wet,  and  without  a  hat, 
with  his  arms  bound  down  to  his  sides,  skimming  over  the  ground  with- 
out any  clearly  defined  purpose,  at  the  rate  of  six  good  English  miles  an 
hour. 

But  Mr.  Pickwick  cared  not  for  appearances  in  such  an  extreme  case, 
and  urged  on  by  Sam  Weller,  he  kept  at  the  very  top  of  his  speed  until 
he  reached  the  door  of  Manor  Farm,  where  Mr.  Tupman  had  arrived 
some  five  minutes  before,  and  had  frightened  the  old  lady  into  palpita- 
tions of  the  heart,  by  impressing  her  with  the  unalterable  conviction 
that  the  kitchen  chimney  was  on  fire — a  calamity  which  always  pre- 
sented itself  in  the  most  glowing  colours  to  the  old  lady's  mind,  when 
anybody  about  her  evinced  the  smallest  agitation. 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused  not  an  instant  until  he  was  snug  in  bed.  Sam 
Weller  lighted  a  blazing  fire  in  the  room,  and  took  up  his  dinner ;  a 
bowl  of  punch  was  carried  up  afterwards,  and  a  grand  carouse  held  in 
honour  of  his  safety.  Old  Wardle  would  not  hear  of  his  rising,  so  they 
made  the  bed  the  chair,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  presided.  A  second  and  a 
third  bowl  were  ordered  in ;  and  when  Mr.  Pickwick  awoke  next  morn- 
ing, there  was  not  a  symptom  of  rheumatism  about  him,  which  proves, 
as  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  very  justly  observed,  that  there  is  nothing  like  hot 
punch  in  such  cases,  and  that  if  ever  hot  punch  did  fail  to  act  as  a  pre- 


i 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  316 

ventive,  it  was  merely  because  the  patient  fell  into  the  vulgar  error  of 
not  taking  enough  of  it. 

The  jovial  party  broke  up  next  morning.  Breakings  up  are  capital 
things  in  our  school  days,  but  in  after  life  they  are  painful  enough. 
Death,  self-interest,  and  fortune's  changes,  are  every  day  breaking 
up  many  a  happy  group  and  scattering  them  far  and  wide ;  and  the  boys 
and  girls  never  come  back  again.  We  do  not  mean  to  say  that  it  was 
exactly  the  case  in  this  particular  instance ;  all  we  wish  to  inform  the 
reader  is,  that  the  dififerent  members  of  the  party  dispersed  to  their 
several  homes ;  that  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  once  more  took  their 
seats  on  the  top  of  the  Muggleton  coach  ;  and  that  Arabella  Allen 
repaired  to  her  place  of  destination,  wherever  it  might  have  been — we 
dare  say  Mr.  Winkle  knew,  but  we  confess  we  don't — under  the  care 
and  guardianship  of  her  brother  Benjamin,  and  his  most  intimate  and 
particular  friend,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

Before  they  separated,  however,  that  gentleman  and  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen  drew  Mr.  Pickwick  aside  with  an  air  of  some  mystery ;  and  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  thrusting  his  forefinger  between  two  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  ribs, 
and  thereby  displaying  his  native  drollery,  and  his  knowledge  of  the 
anatomy  of  the  human  frame,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  enquired — 

"  I  say,  old  boy,  where  do  you  hang  out  ?" 

Mr.  Pickwick  replied  that  he  was  at  present  suspended  at  the  George 
and  Vulture. 

"  I  wish  you'd  come  and  see  me,"  said  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  Nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  There's  my  lodgings,"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  producing  a  card, 
"  Lant  Street,  Borough ;  it's  near  Guy's,  and  handy  for  me  you  know. 
Little  distance  after  you've  passed  Saint  George's  Church — turns. out  of 
the  High  Street  on  the  right  hand  side  the  way." 

"  I  shall  find  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'^  Come  on  Thursday  fortnight,  and  bring  the  other  chaps  with  you," 
said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  "  I'm  going  to  have  a  few  medical  fellows  that 
night." 

Mr.  Pickwick  expressed  the  pleasure  it  would  aiford  him  to  meet  the 
medical  fellows ;  and  after  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  had  informed  him  that  he 
meant  to  be  very  cosey,  and  that  his  friend  Ben  was  to  be  one  of  the 
party,  they  shook  hands  and  separated. 

We  feel  that  in  this  place  we  lay  ourself  open  to  the  enquiry  whether 
Mr.  Winkle  was  whispering,  during  this  brief  conversation,  to  Arabella 
Allen,  and  if  so,  what  he  said  •  and  furthermore,  whether  Mr.  Snodgrass 
was  conversing  apart  with  tEmily  Wardle,  and  if  so,  what  he  said.  To 
this,  we  reply,  that  whatever  they  might  have  said  to  the  ladies,  they 
said  nothing  at  all  to  Mr.  Pickwick  or  Mr.  Tupman  for  eight-and-twenty 
miles,  and  that  they  sighed  very  often,  refused  ale  and  brandy,  and 
looked  gloomy.  If  our  observant  lady  readers  can  deduce  any  satisfac- 
tory inferences  from  these  facts,  we  beg  them  by  all  means  to  do  so. 


316  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERSI  OV 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

WHICH    IS    ALL    ABOUT  THE   LAW,    AND    SUNDRY   GRBAT 
AUTHORITIES    LEARNED    THEREIN. 

Scattered  about,  in  various  holes  and  corners  of  the  Temple,  are 
certain  dark  and  dirty  chambers,  in  and  out  of  which,  all  the  morning" 
in  Vacation,  and  half  the  evening  too  in  Term  time,  there  may  be  seen 
constantly  hurrying  with  bundles  of  papers  under  their  arms,  and  pro- 
truding from  their  pockets,  an  almost  uninterrupted  succession  of 
Lawyers'  Clerks.  There  are  several  grades  of  Lawyers'  Clerks. 
There  is  the  Articled  Clerk,  who  has  paid  a  premium,  and  is  an  attorney 
in  perspective,  who  runs  a  tailor's  bill,  receives  invitations  to  parties, 
knows  a  family  in  Gower  Street  and  another  in  Tavistock  Square, 
goes  out  of  town  every  Long  Vacation  to  see  his  father,  who  keeps 
live  horses  innumerable ;  and  who  is,  in  short,  the  very  aristocrat  of 
clerks.  There  is  the  salaried  clerk — out  of  door,  or  in  door,  as  the 
case  may  be — who  devotes  the  major  part  of  his  thirty  shillings  a  week 
to  his  personal  pleasure  and  adornment,  repairs  half-price  to  the 
Adelphi  at  least  three  times  a  week,  dissipates  majestically  at  the  cider 
cellars  afterwards,  and  is  a  dirty  caricature  of  the  fashion,  which  expired 
six  months  ago.  There  is  the  middle-aged  copying  clerk,  with  a  large 
family,  who  is  always  shabby,  and  often  drunk.  And  there  are  the 
oifice  lads  in  their  first  surtouts,  who  feel  a  befitting  contempt  for  boys 
at  day-schools,  club  as  they  go  home  at  night,  for  saveloys  and  porter, 
and  think  there's  nothing  like  "  life."  There  are  varieties  of  the 
genus  too  numerous  to  recapitulate,  but  however  numerous  they  may 
be,  they  are  all  to  be  seen,  at  certain  regulated  business  hours,  hurrying 
to  and  from  the  places  we  have  just  mentioned. 

These  sequestered  nooks  are  the  public  offices  of  the  legal  profession, 
where  writs  are  issued,  judgments  signed,  declarations  filed,  and  numer- 
ous other  ingenious  little  machines  put  in  motion  for  the  torture  and 
torment  of  His  Majesty's  liege  subjects,  and  the  comfort  and  emolu- 
ment of  the  practitioners  of  the  law.  They  are,  for  the  most  part,  low- 
roofed,  mouldy  rooms,  where  innumerable  rolls  of  parchment,  which  have 
been  perspiring  in  secret  for  the  last  century,  send  forth  an  agreeable 
odour,  which  is  mingled  by  day  with  the  scent  of  the  dry  rot,  and  by 
night  with  the  various  exhalations  which  arise  from  damp  cloaks,  fester- 
ing umbrellas,  and  the  coarsest  tallow  candles. 

About  half-past  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  some  ten  days  or  ft^a 
fortnight  after  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  returned  to  London,  ther^^^ 
hurried  into  one  of  these  ofl&ces,  an  individual  in  a  brown  coat  and  brass 
buttons,  whose  long  hair  was  scrupulously  twisted  round  the  rim  of  his 
napless  hat,  and  whose  soiled  drab  trousers  were  so  tightly  strapped  over 
his  Blucher  boots,  that  his  knees  threatened  every  moment  to  start  from 
their  concealment.  He  produced  from  his  coat  pockets  a  long  and  nar- 
row strip  of  parchment,  on  which  the  presiding  functionary  impressed  an, 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  '  817 

illegible  black  stamp.  He  then  drew  forth  four  scraps  of  paper,  of 
similar  dimensions,  each  containing  a  printed  copy  of  the  strip  of  parch- 
ment with  blanks  for  a  name  ;  and  having  filled  up  the  blanks,  put  all 
the  five  documents  in  his  pocket,  and  hurried  away. 

The  man  in  the  brown  coat  with  the  cabalistic  documents  in  his 
pocket,  was  no  other  than  our  old  acquaintance  INIr.  Jackson,  of  the 
house  of  Dodson  and  Fogg,  Freeman's  Court,  Cornhill.  Instead  of 
returning  to  the  ofiice  from  whence  he  came,  however,  he  bent  his  steps 
direct  to  Sun  Court,  and  walking  straight  into  the  George  and  Vulture, 
demanded  to  know  whether  one  Mr.  Pickwick  was  within. 

"  Call  Mr.  Pickwick's  servant,  Tom,"  said  the  barmaid  of  the  George 
and  Vulture. 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself,"  said  ^Ir.  Jackson,  "  I've  come  on  business. 
If  you'll  show  me  Mr.  Pickwick's  room,  I'll  step  up  myself." 
"  What  name.  Sir  ?"  said  the  waiter. 
"  Jackson,"  replied  the  clerk. 

The  waiter  stepped  up  stairs  to  announce  Mr.  Jackson,  but  Mr.  Jack- 
son saved  him  the  trouble  by  following  close  at  his  heels,  and  walking 
into  the  apartment  before  he  could  articulate  a  syllable. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  that  day  invited  his  three  friends  to  dinner  ;  and 
they  were  all  seated  round  the  fire,  drinking  their  wine,  when  Mr.  Jack- 
son presented  himself,  as  above  described. 

"  How  de  do.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Jackson,  nodding  to  Mr.  Pickwick. 
That  gentleman  bowed,  and  looked  somewhat  surprised,  for  the  phy- 
siognomy of  Mr.  Jackson  dwelt  not  in  his  recollection. 

"  I  have  called  from  Dodson  and  Fogg's,"  said  Mr.  Jackson,  in  an 
explanatory  tone. 

Mr.  Pickwick  roused  at  the  name.  "  I  refer  you  to  my  attorney 
Sir :  Mr.  Perker,  of  Gray's  Inn,"  said  he.  "  Waiter,  show  this  gentle- 
man out." 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Jackson,  deliberately  deposit- 
ing his  hat  on  the  floor,  and  drawing  from  his  pocket  the  strip  of  parch- 
ment. "  But  personal  service,  by  clerk  or  agent,  in  these  cases,  you 
know,  Mt.  Pickwick — eh.  Sir  ?  nothing  like  caution,  Sir,  in  all  legal 
forms — eh  ?" 

Here  Mr.  Jackson  cast  his  eye  on  the  parchment ;  and,  resting  his 
hands  on  the  table,  and  looking  round  with  a  winning  and  persuasive 
smile,  said,  "  Now  come ;  don't  let's  have  no  words  about  such  a  little 
matter  as  this.     Which  of  you  gentlemen's  name's  Snodgrass  ?  " 

At  this  inquiry,  Mr.  Snodgrass  gave  such  a  very  undisguised  and  palp- 
able start,  that  no  further  reply  was  needed. 

"  Ah  I  I  thought  so,"  said  Mr.  Jackson,  more  afifably  than  before. 
"  I've  got  a  little  something  to  trouble  you  with.  Sir." 
"Me  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  It's  only  a  suhpcena  in  Bardell  and  Pickwick  on  behalf  of  the  plain- 
tiflF,"  replied  Jackson,  singling  out  one  of  the  slips  of  paper,  and  produc- 
ing a  shilling  from  his  waistcoat-pocket.  "  It'll  come  on,  in  the  set- 
tens  after  Term;  fourteenth  of  Febooary,  we  expect ;  we've  marked  it  a 
special  jury  cause,  and  it's  only  ten  down  the  paper.   That's  yours,  Mr. 


318  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Snodgrass."  As  Jackson  said  this,  he  presented  the  parchment  before  the 
eyes  of  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  slipped  the  paper  and  the  shilling  into  his 
hand. 

Mr.  Tupman  had  witnessed  this  process  in  silent  astonishment,  when 
Jackson,  turning  sharply  upon  him,  said  : 

"  I  think  I  ain't  mistaken  when  I  say  your  name's  Tupman,  am  I  ?" 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick ;  but,  perceiving  no  encourage- 
ment in  that  gentleman's  widely-opened  eyes  to  deny  his  name,  said : 

"  Yes,  my  name  is  Tupman,  Sir." 

"And  that  other  gentleman's  Mr.  Winkle,  I  think,"  said  Jackson. 

Mr.  Winkle  faltered  out  a  reply  in  the  afiSrmative ;  and  both  gen- 
tlemen were  forthwith  invested  with  a  slip  of  paper,  and  a  shilling  each, 
by  the  dexterous  Mr.  Jackson. 

"  Now,"  said  Jackson,  "  I'm  afraid  you'll  think  me  rather  trouble- 
some, but  I  want  somebody  else,  if  it  ain't  inconvenient.  I  have  Samuel 
Weller's  name  here,   Mr.  Pickwick." 

"  Send  my  servant  here,  waiter,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  The  waiter 
retired,  considerably  astonished,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  motioned  Jackson  to 
a  seat. 

There  was  a  painful  pause,  which  was  at  length  broken  by  the  inno- 
cent defendant. 

"  I  suppose.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  his  indignation  rising  while  he 
spoke  ;  '*  I  suppose,  Sir,  that  it  is  the  intention  of  your  employers  to 
seek  to  criminate  me,  upon  the  testimony  of  my  own  friends  ?  " 

Mr.  Jackson  struck  his  fore-finger  several  times  against  the  left 
side  of  his  nose,  to  intimate  that  he  was  not  there  to  disclose  the  secrets 
of  the  prison-house,  and  playfully  rejoined, 

*'  Not  knowin',  can't  say." 

"  For  what  other  reason.  Sir,"  pursued  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  are  these 
subpoenas  served  upon  them,  if  not  for  this  ?" 

"  Very  good  plant,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  replied  Jackson,  slowly  shaking 
his  head.  "  But  it  won't  do.  No  harm  in  trying,  but  there's  little 
to  be  got  out  of  me." 

Here  Mr.  Jackson  smiled  once  more  upon  the  company ;  and,  apply- 
ing his  left  thumb  to  the  tip  of  his  nose,  worked  a  visionary  coffee-mill 
with  his  right  hand,  thereby  performing  a  very  graceful  piece  of  panto- 
mime (then  much  in  vogue,  but  now,  unhappily,  almost  obsolete)  which 
was  familiarly  denominated  "  taking  a  grinder." 

"  No,  no,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Jackson  in  conclusion ;  "  Perker's 
people  must  guess  what  we've  served  these  subpoenas  for.  If  they  can't, 
they  must  wait  till  the  action  comes  on,  and  then  they'll  find  out." 

Mr.  Pickwick  bestowed  a  look  of  excessive  disgust  on  his  unwelcome 
visitor,  and  would  probably  have  hurled  some  tremendous  anathema  at 
the  heads  of  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  had  not  Sam's  entrance  at  the 
instant  interrupted  him. 

*'  Samuel  Weller?"  said  Mr.  Jackson,  enquiringly. 

"  Vun  o'  the  truest  things  as  you've  said  for  many  a  long  year,*'repli 
Sam,  in  a  most  composed  manner. 

"  Here's  a  subpoena  for  you,  Mr,  Weller,"  said  .fackson. 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  319 

What's  that  in  English  ?'    enquired  Sam. 

"  Here's  the  original,"  said  Jackson,  declining  the  required  explana- 
tion. 

"Which?"  said  Sam. 

"  This,"   replied  Jackson,  shaking  the  parchment. 

"  Oh,  that's  the  'rig'nal,  is  it  ?"  said  Sam.  "  Well,  I'm  wery  glad 
I've  seen  the  'rig'nal,  'cos  it's  a  gratifyin'  sort  o'  thing,  and  eases  vun's 
mind  so  much." 

"  And  here's  the  shilling,"  said  Jackson.  "  It's  from  Dodson  and 
Fogg's." 

"  And  it's  uncommon  handsome  o'  Dodson  and  Fogg,  as  knows  so 
little  of  me,  to  come  down  vith  a  present,"  said  Sam.  "  I  feel  it  as  a 
wery  high  compliment.  Sir;  and  it's  a  wery  hon'rahle  thing  to  them,  as 
they  knows  how  to  reward  merit  verever  they  meets  it.  Besides  vich, 
it's  wery  aiFectin'  to  one's  feelin's." 

As  Mr.  Weller  said  this,  he  inflicted  a  little  friction  on  his  right  eye- 
lid, with  the  sleeve  of  his  coat,  after  the  most  approved  manner  of  actors 
when  they  are  in  domestic  pathetics. 

Mr.  Jackson  seemed  rather  puzzled  by  Sam's  proceedings ;  but,  as 
he  had  served  the  subpoenas,  and  had  nothing  more  to  say,  he  made  a 
feint  of  putting  on  the  one  glove  which  he  usually  carried  in  his  hand, 
for  the  sake  of  appearances  ;  and  returned  to  the  office  to  report  pro- 
gress. 

Mr.  Pickwick  slept  little  that  night ;  his  memory  had  received  a  very 
disagreeable  refresher  on  the  subject  of  Mrs.  Bardell's  action.  He 
breakfasted  betimes  next  morning ;  and,  desiring  Sam  to  accompany 
him,  set  forth  towards  Gray's  Inn  square. 

"  Sam  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round,  when  they  got  to  the  end 
of  Cheapside. 

"  Sir?"  said  Sam,  stepping  up  to  his  master. 

"Which  way?" 

"  Up  Newgate-street." 

Mr.  Pickwick  did  not  turn  round  immediately,  but  looked  vacantly 
in  Sam's  face  for  a  few  seconds,  and  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

"  What's  the  matter.  Sir  ?  "  enquired  Sam. 

"  This  action,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  is  expected  to  come  on,  on 
the  fourteenth  of  next  month." 

'*  Remarkable  coincidence  that  'ere.  Sir,"  replied  Sam. 

**  Why  remarkable,  Sam  ?"  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Walentine's  day.  Sir,"  responded  Sam;  "  reg'lar  good  day  for  a  breach 
o'  promise  trial." 

Mr.  Weller's  smile  awakened  no  gleam  of  mirth  in  his  master's  coun- 
tenance. Mr.  Pickwick  turned  abruptly  round,  and  led  the  way  in 
silence. 

They  had  walked  some  distance,  Mr.  Pickwick  trotting  on  before, 
plunged  in  profound  meditation,  and  Sam  following  behind,  with  a  coun- 
tenance expressive  of  the  most  enviable  and  easy  defiance  of  everything 
and  everybody,  when  the  latter,  who  was  always  especially  anxious  to 
impart  to  his  master  any  exclusive  information  he  possessed,  quickened 


320  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS    OF 

his  pace  until  he  was  close  at  Mr,  Pickwick's  heels ;  and,  pointing  up 
at  a  house  they  were  passing,  said, 

*'  Wery  nice  pork-shop  that  'ere.  Sir." 

"  Yes,  it  seems  so,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Celebrated  Sassage  factory,"  said  Sara. 

'*  Is  it  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Is  it!"  reiterated  Sam  with  some  indignation;  "I  should  rayther 
think  it  was.  Why  sir,  bless  your  innocent  eyebrows,  that's  vere  the 
mysterious  disappearance  of  a  respectable  tradesman  took  place,  four 
year  ago." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  he  was  burked,  Sam  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
looking  hastily  round. 

*'  No  I  don't  indeed,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  "  I  vish  I  did  ;  far  worse 
than  that.  He  was  the  master  o'  that  'ere  shop,  Sir,  and  the  inwenter  o* 
the  patent-never-leavin-off  sassage  steam  'ingine,  as  ud  swaller  up  a 
pavin'  stone  if  you  put  it  too  near,  and  grind  it  into  sassages  as  easy  as 
if  it  was  a  tender  young  babby.  Wery  proud  o'  that  machine  he 
was,  as  it  was  nat'ral  he  should  be  ;  and  he'd  stand  down  in  the  celler 
a  lookin'  at  it,  ven  it  was  in  full  play,  till  he  got  quite  melancholy  with 
joy,  A  wery  happy  man  he'd  ha*  been,  Sir,  in  the  procession  o'  that 
'ere  ingine  and  two  more  lovely  hinfants  besides,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  his 
wife,  who  was  a  most  ow-dacious  wixin.  She  was  always  a  follerin'  him 
about,  and  dinnin'  in  his  ears  'till  at  last  he  couldn't  stand  it  no  longer, 
'  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  my  dear,'  he  says  one  day  ;  '  If  you  persewere 
in  this  here  sort  of  amusement,'  he  says, '  I'm  blessed  if  I  don't  go  away  to 
'Merriker ;  and  that's  all  about  it.'  '  You're  a  idle  willin,'  says  she, 
'  and  I  wish  the  'Merrikins  joy  of  their  bargin.'  Arter  vich  she  keeps 
on  abusin'  him  for  half  an  hour,  and  then  runs  into  the  little  parlour 
behind  the  shop,  sets  to  a  screarain',  says  he'll  be  the  death  on  her,  and 
falls  in  a  fit,  which  lasts  for  three  good  hours — one  o'  them  fits  which  is 
all  screamin'  and  kickin*.  Well,  next  mornin',  the  husband  was  missin'. 
He  hadn't  taken  nothin'  from  the  till, — hadn't  even  put  on  his  great 
coat,  so  it  was  quite  clear  he  warn't  gone  to  'Merriker.  Didn't  come 
back  next  day,  didn't  come  back  next  week  ;  the  Missis  had  bills  printed 
sayin'  that,  if  he'd  come  back,  he  should  be  forgiven  everything  (which 
was  very  liberal,  seein'  that  he  hadn't  done  nothin'  at  all,)  all  the  canals 
was  dragged,  and  for  two  months  arterwards  venever  a  body  turned  up,  it 
was  carried,  as  a  reg'lar  thing,  straight  off  to  the  sassage  shop.  Hows'- 
ever  none  on  'em  answered,  so  they  gave  out  that  he'd  run  avay,  and 
she  kept  on  the  bis'ness.  One  Saturday  night,  a  little  thin  old  gen'lm'n 
comes  into  the  shop  in  a  great  passion  and  says,  '  Are  you  the  missis  o' 
this  here  shop  ?'  '  Yes  I  am,'  says  she.  *  Well  Ma'am,'  says  he,  '  then 
I've  just  looked  in  to  say,  that  me  and  my  family  ain't  a  goin'  to  be 
choaked  for  nothin' ;  and  more  than  that  Ma'am,'  he  says,  '  you'll  allow 
me  to  observe,  that  as  you  don't  use  the  primest  parts  of  the  meat  in  the 
manafacter  o'  sassages,  I  think  you'd  find  beef  come  nearly  as  cheap 
as  buttons.'  *  Buttons,  Sir  !'  says  she.  *  Buttons,  Ma'am,'  says  the  little 
old  gentleman,  unfolding  a  bit  of  paper,  and  she  win'  twenty  or  thirty 
halves  o'  buttons.     *  Nice  seasonin*  for  sassages,   is  trousers'  buttons, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  921 

Ma'am/  *  They're  my  husband's  buttons,'  says  the  widder,  beginnin'  to 
faint.  *  What  I'  screams  the  little  old  gen'lm'n,  turnin'  wery  pale.  *I 
see  it  all,'  says  the  widder ;  '  in  a  fit  of  temporary  insanity  he  rashly 
converted  his-self  into  sassages  !*  And  so  he  had,  Sir/'  said  Mr.  Weller, 
looking  steadily  into  Mr.  Pickwick's  horror-stricken  countenance,  "  or 
else  he'd  been  draw'd  into  the  ingine,  but  however  that  might  ha'  been, 
the  little  old  gen'lm'n,  who  had  been  remarkably  partial  to  sassages  all 
his  life,  rushed  out  o'  the  shop  in  a  wild  state,  and  was  never  heerd  on 
artervards I " 

The  relation  of  this  affecting  incident  of  private  life,  brought  master 
and  man  to  Mr.  Perker's  chambers.  Lowten,  holding  the  door  half 
open,  was  in  conversation  with  a  rustily-clad,  miserable  looking  man,  in 
boots  without  toes,  and  gloves  without  fingers.  There  were  traces  of 
privation  and  suffering — almost  of  despair — in  his  lank  and  care-worn 
countenance  ;  he  felt  his  poverty,  for  he  shrunk  to  the  dark  side  of  the 
staircase  as  Mr.  Pickwick  approached. 

"  It's  very  unfortunate,"  said  the  stranger  with  a  sigh. 

"  Very,"  said  Lowten,  scribbling  his  name  on  the  door  post  with  his 
pen  and  rubbing  it  out  again  with  the  feather.  "  Will  you  leave  a  mes- 
sage for  him  ?  " 

"  When  do  you  think  he'll  be  back  ?  "  enquired  the  stranger. 

"  Quite  uncertain,"  replied  Lowten,  winking  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the 
stranger  cast  his  eyes  towards  the  ground. 

"  You  don't  think  it  would  be  of  any  use  my  waiting  for  him  ?"  said 
the  stranger,  looking  wistfully  into  the  office. 

"  Oh  no,  I'm  sure  it  wouldn't,"  replied  the  clerk,  moving  a  little  more 
into  the  centre  of  the  door-way.  "  He's  certain  not  to  be  back  this 
week,  and  it's  a  chance  whether  he  will,  next,  for  when  Perker  once 
gets  out  of  town,  he's  never  in  a  hurry  to  come  back  again." 

"  Out  of  town  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "  dear  me,  how  unfortunate  !"    ' 

*'  Don't  go  away,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Lowten,  '^  I've  got  a  letter  for 
you."  The  stranger  seeming  to  hesitate,  once  more  looked  towards  the 
ground,  and  the  clerk  winked  slily  at  Mr.  Pickwick  as  if  to  intimate  that 
some  exquisite  piece  of  humour  was  going  forward ;  though  what  it  was, 
Mr.  Pickwick  could  not,  for  the  life  of  him,  divine. 

"  Step  in,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Lowten.  "  Well,  will  you  leave  a  mes-. 
sage,  Mr.  Watty,  or  will  you  call  again  ?  " 

"  Ask  him  to  be  so  kind  as  to  leave  out  word  what  has  been  done  in 
my  business/'  said  the  man ;  "  for  God's  sake  don't  neglect  it,  Mr. 
Lowten/' 

"  No,  no ;  I  won't  forget  it/'  replied  the  clerk.  "  Walk  in,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. Good  morning,  Mr.  Watty ;  it's  a  fine  day  for  walking,  isn't 
it?"  And,  seeing  that  the  stranger  still  lingered,  he  beckoned  Sam 
Weller  to  follow  his  master  in,  and  shut  the  door  in  his  face. 

"  There  never  was  such  a  pestering  bankrupt  as  that,  since  the  world 
began,  I  do  believe !"  said  Lowten,  throwing  down  his  pen  with  the  air 
of  an  injured  man.  "  His  affairs  haven't  been  in  chancery  quite  four 
years  yet,  and  I'm  d — d  if  he  don't  come  worrying  here  twice  a-week. 
Step  this  way,  Mr.  Pickwick.   Perker  is  in,  and  he'll  see  you,  J  know. 


322  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Devilish  cold,"  he  added  pettishly,  "  standing  at  that  door,  wasting  one's 
time  with  such  seedy  vagabonds."  And,  having  very  vehemently  stirred 
a  particularly  large  £re  with  a  particularly  small  poker,  the  clerk  led  the 
way  to  his  principal's  private  room,  and  announced  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Sir,"  said  little  Mr.  Perker,  hustling  up  from  his  chair  ; 
"Well,  my  dear  Sir,  and  what's  the  news  about  your  matter — eh?  Any- 
thing more  about  our  friends  in  Freeman's-court  ?  They've  not  been 
sleeping,  /  know  that.  Ah,  they're  very  smart  fellows — very  smart, 
indeed." 

As  the  little  man  concluded,  he  took  an  emphatic  pinch  of  snuff,  as 
a  tribute  to  the  smartness  of  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg, 

"  They  are  great  scoundrels,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Aye,  aye,"  said  the  little  man  ;  "that's  a  mere  matter  of  opinion, 
you  know,  and  we  won't  dispute  about  terms ;  because  of  course  you 
can't  be  expected  to  view  these  subjects  with  a  professional  eye.  Well, 
we've  done  everything  that's  necessary.  I  have  retained  Serjeant  Snub- 
bin." 

"  Is  he  a  good  man  ?  "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Good  man  ! "  replied  Perker ;  "  bless  your  heart  and  soul,  my  dear 
Sir,  Serjeant  Snubbin  is  at  the  very  top  of  his  profession.  Gets  treble 
the  business  of  any  man  in  court — engaged  in  every]  case.  You 
needn't  mention  it  abroad ;  but  we  say — we  of  the  profession — that  Ser- 
jeant Snubbin  leads  the  court  by  the  nose." 

The  little  man  took  another  pinch  of  snuif  as  he  made  this  communi- 
cation, and  nodded  mysteriously  to  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  They  have  subpoena'd  my  three  friends,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Ah  !  of  course  they  would,"  replied  Perker.  "  Important  wit- 
nesses ;  saw  you  in  a  delicate  situation." 

"  But  she  fainted  of  her  own  accord,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  She 
threw  herself  into  my  arms." 

"  Very  likely,  my  dear  Sir,"  replied  Perker ;  "  very  likely  and  very 
natural.  Nothing  more  so,  my  dear  Sir — nothing.  But  who's  to 
prove  it  ?  " 

"They  have  subpoena'd  my  servant  too," said  Mr.  Pickwick,  quitting 
the  other  point ;  for  there  Mr.  Perker's  question  had  somewhat  staggered 
him. 

"  Sam  ?"  said  Perker. 

Mr.  Pickwick  repHed  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Of  course,  my  dear  Sir ;  of  course.  I  knew  they  would ;  I  could 
have  told  i/ou  that,  a  month  ago.  You  know,  my  dear  Sir,  if  you  will 
take  the  management  of  your  affairs  into  your  own  hands  after  entrust- 
ing them  to  your  Solicitor,  you  must  also  take  the  consequences."  Here 
Mr.  Perker  drew  himself  up  with  conscious  dignity,  and  brushed  some 
stray  grains  of  snuff  from  his  shirt  frill. 

"  And  what  do  they  want  him  to  prove?"  asked  Mr.  Pickwick,  after 
two  or  three  minutes'  silence. 

"  That  you  sent  him  up  to  the  Plaintiff's  to  make  some  ofier  of  a 
compromise,  I  suppose,"  replied  Perker.  "  It  don't  matter  much,  though 
I  don't  think  many  counsel  could  get  a  great  deal  out  of  him," 


THE    riCKWICK   CI.UM.  323 

"  I  don't  think  they  could,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  smilinpf,  despite  his 
vexation,  at  the  idea  of  Sam's  appearance  as  a  witness,  "  What  course 
do  we  pursue  ?  ** 

"  We  have  only  one  to  adopt,  my  dear  Sir,"  replied  Perker ;  **  cross- 
examine  the  witnesses,  trust  to  Snubbin's  eloquence,  throw  dust  in  the 
eyes  of  the  judge ;  and  ourselves  on  the  jury." 

"  And  suppose  the  verdict  is  against  me  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Mr.  Perker  smiled,  took  a  very  long  pinch  of  snuff,  stirred  the  fire, 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  remained  expressively  silent. 

*'  You  mean  that  in  that  case  I  must  pay  the  damages  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  who  had  watched  this  telegraphic  answer  with  considerable 
sternness. 

Perker  gave  the  fire  another  very  unnecessary  poke,  and  said  "  I  am 
afraid  so." 

"  Then  I  beg  to  announce  to  you,  my  unalterable  determination  to 
pay  no  damages  whatever,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  most  emphatically. 
*'  None,  Perker.  Not  a  pound,  not  a  penny,  of  my  money  shall  find  its 
way  into  the  pockets  of  Dodson  and  Fogg.  That  is  my  deliberate 
and  irrevocable  determination."  And  Mr.  Pickwick  gave  a  heavy  blow 
on  the  table  beside  him,  in  confirmation  of  the  irrevocability  of  his 
intention. 

"  Very  well,  my  dear  Sir,  very  well,"  said  Perker.  *'  You  know  best, 
of  course." 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  hastily.  *•  Where  does  Serjeant 
Snubbin  live  ?  " 

**  In  Lincoln's  Inn  Old  Square,"  replied  Perker. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  See  Serjeant  Snubbin,  my  dear  Sir !  "  rejoined  Perker,  in  utter 
amazement.  "  Pooh,  pooh,  my  dear  Sir,  impossible.  See  Serjeant 
Snubbin  !  Bless  you,  my  dear  Sir,  such  a  thing  was  never  heard 
of,  without  a  consultation  fee  being  previously  paid,  and  a  consultation 
fixed.     It  couldn't  be  done,  my  dear  Sir ;  it  couldn't  be  done." 

Mr.  Pickwick,  however,  had  made  up  his  mind  not  only  that  it  could 
bfe  done,  but  that  it  should  be  done ;  and  the  consequence  was,  that 
within  ten  minutes  after  he  had  received  the  assurance  that  the  thing 
was  impossible,  he  was  conducted  by  his  solicitor  into  the  outer  office 
of  the  great  Serjeant  Snubbin  himself. 

It  was  an  uncarpeted  room  of  tolerable  dimensions,  with  a  large 
writing-table  drawn  up  near  the  fire,  the  baize  top  of  which  had  long 
since  lost  all  claim  to  its  original  hue  of  green,  and  had  gradually 
grown  grey  with  dust  and  age,  except  where  all  traces  of  its  natural 
colour  were  obliterated  by  ink-stains.  Upon  the  table  were  numerous 
little  bundles  of  papers  tied  with  red  tape  ;  and  behind  it,  sat  an  elderly 
clerk,  whose  sleek  appearance  and  heavy  gold  watch-chain  presented 
imposing  indications  of  the  extensive  and  lucrative  practice  of  Mr. 
Serjeant  Snubbin. 

"Is  the  Serjeant  in  his  room,  Mr.  Mallard?"  inquired  Perker, 
ofiering  his  box  with  all  imaginable  courtesy. 

"  Yes  he  is,"  was  the  reply,  "  but  he's  very  busy.     Look  here  ;  not 

B  B 


324  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS   OF 

an  opinion  given  yet,  on  any  one  of  these  cases;  and  an  expedition 
fee  paid  with  all  of  them."  The  clerk  smiled  as  he  said  this,  and 
inhaled  the  pinch  of  snuff  with  a  zest  which  seemed  to  be  compounded 
of  a  fondness  for  snuff  and  a  relish  for  fees. 

"  Somethings  like  practice  that,"  said  Perker. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  barrister's  clerk,  producing  his  own  box,  and  offering 
it  with  the  greatest  cordiality  ;  "  and  the  best  of  it,  is,  that  as  nobody 
alive  except  myself  can  read  the  Serjeant's  writing,  they  are  obliged  to 
wait  for  the  opinions,  when  he  has  given  them,  till  I  have  copied  'em, 
ha — ha — ha  I " 

''  Which  makes  good  for  we  know  who,  besides  the  Serjeant,  and 
draws  a  little  more  out  of  the  clients,  eh  ?  "  said  Perker ;  "  Ha,  ha,  ha !" 
At  this  the  Serjeant's  clerk  laughed  again — not  a  noisy  boisterous  laugh, 
but  a  silent,  internal  chuckle,  which  Mr.  Pickwick  disliked  to  hear. 
When  a  man  bleeds  inwardly,  it  is  a  dangerous  thing  for  himself;  but 
when  he  laughs  inwardly,  it  bodes  no  good  to  other  people. 

*'  You  haven't  made  me  out  that  little  list  of  the  fees  that  I'm  itt 
your  debt,  have  you  ?  "  said  Perker. 

"  No,  I  have  not,"  replied  the  clerk. 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  said  Perker.  "  Let  me  have  them,  and  I'll 
send  you  a  cheque.  But  I  suppose  you're  too  busy  pocketing  the  ready 
money,  to  think  of  the  debtors,  eh  ?  ha,  ha,  ha  !"  This  sally  seemed 
to  tickle  the  clerk  amazingly,  and  he  once  more  enjoyed  a  little  quiet 
laugh  to  him.self. 

"  But,  Mr.  Mallard,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Perker,  suddenly  recovering 
his  gravity,  and  drawing  the  great  man's  great  man  into  a  corner,  by 
the  lappel  of  his  coat,  "  you  must  persuade  the  Serjeant  to  see  me, 
and  my  client  here." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  clerk,  *'  that's  not  bad  either.  See  the 
Serjeant !  come,  that's  too  absurd."  Notwithstanding  the  absurdity  of 
the  proposal,  however,  the  clerk  allowed  himself  to  be  gently  drawn 
bevond  the  hearing*  of  Mr.  Pickwick ;  and  after  a  short  conversation 
conducted  in  whispers,  walked  softly  down  a  little  dark  passage  and 
disappeared  into  the  legal  luminary's  sanctum,  from  whence  he  shortly 
returned  on  tiptoe,  and  informed  Mr.  Perker  and  Mr.  Pickwick  that 
the  Serjeant  had  been  prevailed  upon,  in  violation  of  all  his  established 
rules  and  customs,  to  admit  them  at  once. 

Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin  was  a  lantern-faced  sallow-complexioned  man, 
of  about  five-and-forty,  or — as  the  novels  say — he  might  be  fifty.  H6 
had  that  dull-looking  boiled  eye  which  is  so  often  to  be  seen  in  the  heads 
of  people  who  have  applied  themselves  during  many  years  to  a  weary 
and  laborious  course  of  study ;  and  which  would  have  been  sufficient, 
without  the  additional  eye-glass  which  dangled  from  a  broad  black 
riband  round  his  neck,  to  warn  a  stranger  that  he  was  very  near-sighted. 
His  hair  was  thin  and  weak,  which  was  partly  attributable  to  his  having 
never  devoted  much  time  to  its  arrangement,  and  partly  to  his  having 
worn  for  five-and-twenty  years  the  forensic  wig  which  hung  on  a  block 
beside  him.  The  marks  of  hair-powder  on  his  coat-collar,  and  the  ill- 
washed  and  worse  tied  white  neckerchief  round  his  throat,  showed  that 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB.  825 

he  had  not  found  leisure  since  he  left  the  court  to  make  any  alteration 
in  his  dress  ;  while  the  slovenly  style  of  the  remainder  of  his  costurae 
warranted  the  inference  that  his  personal  appearance  would  not  have 
been  very  much  improved  if  he  had.  Books  of  practice,  heaps  of 
papers,  and  opened  letters,  were  scattered  over  the  table  without  any 
attempt  at  order  or  arrangement ;  the  furniture  of  the  room  was  old 
and  rickety;  the  doors  of  the  book-case  were  rotting  in  their  hinges; 
the  dust  flew  out  from  the  carpet  in  little  clouds  at  every  step ;  the 
blinds  were  yellow  with  age  and  dirt ;  and  the  state  of  every  thing  in 
the  room  showed,  with  a  clearness  not  to  be  mistaken,  that  Mr.  Serjeant 
Snubbin  was  far  too  much  occupied  with  his  professional  pursuits  to 
talie  any  great  heed  or  regard  of  his  personal  comforts. 

The  Serjeant  was  writing  when  his  clients  entered  ;  he  bowed  abstract- 
edly when  Mr.  Pickwick  was  introduced  by  his  solicitor ;  and  then, 
motioning  them  to  a  seat,  put  his  pen  carefully  in  the  inkstand,  nursed 
his  left  leg,  and  waited  to  be  spoken  to. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick  is  the  defendant  in  Bardell  and  Pickwick,  Serjeant 
Snubbin,"  said  Perker. 

"  I  am  retained  in  that,  am  I  ?  "  said  the  Serjeant. 

"  You  are.  Sir,"  replied  Perker. 

The  Serjeant  nodded  his  head,  and  waited  for  something  else. 

"Mr.  Pickwick  was  anxious  to  call  upon  you,  Serjeant  Snubbip." 
said  Perker,  "  to  state  to  you,  before  you  entered  upon  the  case,  that 
he  denies  there  being  any  ground  or  pretence  whatever  for  the  action 
against  him  ;  and  that  unless  he  came  into  court  with  clean  hands,  and 
without  the  most  conscientious  conviction  that  he  was  right  in  resisting 
the  plaintiff's  demand,  he  would  not  be  there  at  all.  I  believe  I  state 
your  views  correctly ;  do  I  not,  my  dear  Sir  ?"  said  the  little  man,  turning 
to  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Quite  so,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin  unfolded  his  glasses,  raised  them  to  his  eyes; 
and,  after  looking  at  Mr.  Pickwick  for  a  few  seconds  with  great  curiosity, 
turned  to  Mr.  Perker,  and  said,  smiling  slightly  as  he  spoke — 

"  Has  Mr.  Pickwick  a  strong  case  ?  " 

The  attorney  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Do  you  purpose  calling  witnesses  ?  " 

«  No." 

The  smile  on  the  Serjeant's  countenance  became  more  defined ;  he 
rocked  his  leg  with  increased  violence  ;  and,  throwing  himself  back  in  his 
easy-chair,  coughed  dubiously. 

These  tokens  of  the  Serjeant's  presentiments  on  the  subject,  slight  as 
they  were,  were  not  lost  on  ]Mr.  Pickwick.  He  settled  the  spectacles, 
through  which  he  had  attentively  regarded  such  demonstrations  of  the 
barrister's  feeling  as  he  had  permitted  himself  to  exhibit,  more  firmly  on 
his  nose ;  and  said  with  great  energy,  and  in  utter  disregard  of  all  Mr. 
Perker's  admonitory  winkings  and  frownings — 

"  My  wishing  to  wait  upon  you  for  such  a  purpose  as  this,  Sir, 
appears,  I  have  no  doubt,  to  a  gentleman  who  sees  so  much  of  these 
matters  as  you  must  necessarily  do,  a  very  extraordinary  circum- 
stance." B  B  2 


826  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS   OF 

The  Serjeant  tried  to  look  gravely  at  the  fire,  but  the  smile  came 
back  again. 

"  Gentlemen  of  your  profession,  Sir,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  see 
the  worst  side  of  human  nature — all  its  disputes,  all  its  ill-will  and  bad 
blood,  rise  up  before  you.  You  know  from  your  experience  of  juries 
(I  mean  no  disparagement  to  you,  or  them)  how  much  depends  upon 
effect :  and  you  are  apt  to  attribute  to  others,  a  desire  to  use,  for  pur- 
poses of  deception  and  self-interest,  the  very  instruments  which  you,  in 
pure  honesty  and  honour  of  purpose,  and  with  a  laudable  desire  to  do 
your  utmost  for  your  client,  know  the  temper  and  worth  of  so  well, 
from  constantly  employing  them  yourselves.  I  really  believe  that  to 
this  circumstance  may  be  attributed  the  vulgar  but  very  general  notion 
of  your  being,  as  a  body,  suspicious,  distrustful,  and  over-cautious. 
Conscious  as  I  am.  Sir,  of  the  disadvantage  of  making  such  a  declara- 
tion to  you,  under  such  circumstances,  I  have  come  here,  because  I  wish 
you  distinctly  to  understand,  as  my  friend  Mr.  Perker  has  said,  that  I 
am  innocent  of  the  falsehood  laid  to  my  charge ;  and  although  I  am  very 
well  aware  of  the  inestimable  value  of  your  assistance,  Sir,  I  must 
beg  to  add,  that  unless  you  sincerely  believe  this,  I  would  rather  be 
deprived  of  the  aid  of  your  talents  than  have  the  advantage  of  them." 

Long  before  the  close  of  this  address,  which  we  are  bound  to  say  was 
of  a  very  prosy  character  for  Mr.  Pickwick,  the  Serjeant  had  relapsed 
into  a  state  of  abstraction.  After  some  minutes,  however,  during  which 
he  had  reassumed  his  pen,  he  appeared  to  be  again  aware  of  the  pre- 
sence of  his  clients ;  and,  raising  his  head  from  the  paper,  said,  rather 
snappishly — 

"  Who's  with  me  in  this  case  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Phunky,  Serjeant  Snubbin,"  replied  the  attorney. 

"  Phunky — Phunky,"  said  the  Serjeant ;  "  I  never  heard  the  name 
before.     He  must  be  a  very  young  man." 

♦'  Yes,  he  is  a  very  young  man,"  replied  the  attorney.  "  He  was 
only  called  the  other  day.  Let  me  see — oh,  he  hasn't  been  at  the  Bar 
eight  years  yet." 

**  Ah,  I  thought  not,"  said  the  Serjeant,  in  that  sort  of  pitying  tone 
in  which  ordinary  folks  would  speak  of  a  very  helpless  little  child.  "Mr. 
Mallard,  send  round  to  Mr.  —  Mr.  — " 

"  Phunky's — Holborn  Court,  Gray's  Inn/'  interposed  Perker— 
(Hoi born  Court,  by  the  bye,  is  South  Square  now) — "  Mr.  Phunky 
and  say  I  should  be  glad  if  he'd  step  here,  a  moment." 

Mr.  Mallard   departed   to   execute   his   commission ;  and    Serjeat 
Snubbin   relapsed   into    abstraction   until    Mr.  Phunky  himself  wa» 
introduced. 

Although  an  infant  barrister,  he  was  a  full-grown  man.  He  had  a 
very  nervous  manner,  and  a  painful  hesitation  in  his  speech  ;  it  did  not 
appear  to  be  a  natural  defect,  but  seemed  rather  the  result  of  timidity, 
arising  from  the  consciousness  of  being  "  kept  down  "  by  want  of  means, 
or  interest,  or  connexion,  or  impudence,  as  the  case  might  be.  He  was 
overawed  by  the  Serjeant,  and  profoundly  courteous  to  the  attorney. 

"  I  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  before,  Mr.  Phunky," 
said  Serjeant  Snubbin,  with  haughty  condescension. 


.<        -w       '"^^ 


^ye 


326 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB.  827 

Mr.  Phunky  bowed.  He  hSd  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  Serjeant, 
ind  of  envying  him  too,  with  all  a  poor  man's  envy,  for  eight  years  and  a 
quarter. 

"  You  are  with  me  in  this  case,  I  understand  ?"  said  the  Serjeant. 

If  Mr.  Phunky  had  been  a  rich  man,  he  would  have  instantly  sent 
for  his  clerk  to  remind  him  ;  if  he  had  been  a  wise  one,  he  would  have 
applied  his  fore-finger  to  his  forehead,  and  endeavoured  to  recollect  whe- 
ther in  the  multiplicity  of  his  engagements  he  had  undertaken  this  one, 
or  not :  but  as  he  was  neither  rich  nor  wise  (in  this  sense  at  all  events) 
he  turned  red,  and  bowed. 

"  Have  you  read  the  papers,  Mr.  Phunky  ?"  inquired  the  Serjeant. 

Here  again  Mr.  Phunky  should  have  professed  to  have  forgotten  all 
about  the  merits  of  the  case  ;  but  as  he  had  read  such  papers  as  had  been 
laid  before  him  in  the  course  of  the  action,  and  had  thought  of  nothing 
else,  waking  or  sleeping,  throughout  the  two  months  during  which  he 
had  been  retained  as  Mr.  Serjeant  Snubbin's  junior,  he  turned  a  deeper 
red,  and  bowed  again. 

*'  This  is  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  the  Serjeant,  waving  his  pen  in  the 
direction  in  which  that  gentleman  was  standing. 

Mr.  Phunky  bowed  to  Mr.  Pickwick  with  the  reverence  which  a  first 
client  must  ever  awaken  ;  and  again  inclined  his  head  towards  his  leader. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  take  Mr.  Pickwick  away,"  said  the  Serjeant, 
"and — and — and — hear  anything  Mr.  Pickwick  may  wish  to  communi- 
cate. We  shall  have  a  consultation,  of  course."  With  this  hint  that  he 
had  been  interrupted  quite  long  enough,  Mr.  Sergeant  Snubbin,  who  had 
been  gradually  growing  more  and  more  abstracted,  applied  his  glass  to 
his  eyes  for  an  instant,  bowed  slightly  round,  and  was  once  more  deeply 
immersed  in  the  case  before  him,  which  arose  out  of  an  interminable  law- 
suit, originating  in  the  act  of  an  individual,  deceased  a  century  or  so 
ago,  who  had  stopped  up  a  pathway  leading  from  some  place  which, 
nobody  ever  came  from,  to  some  other  place  which  nobody  ever  went  to. 

Mr.  Phunky  would  not  hear  of  passing  through  any  door  until  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  his  solicitor  had  passed  through  before  him,  so  it  was 
some  time  before  they  got  into  the  Square ;  and  when  they  did  reach  it, 
they  walked  up  and  down,  and  held  a  long  conference,  the  result  of 
which,  was,  that  it  was  a  very  difficult  matter  to  say  how  the  verdict 
would  go ;  that  nobody  could  presume  to  calculate  on  the  issue  oi  an 
action ;  that  it  was  very  lucky  they  had  prevented  the  other  party  from 
getting  Serjeant  Snubbin  ;  and  other  topics  of  doubt  and  consolation, 
common  in  such  a  position  of  affairs. 

Mr.  Weller  was  then  roused  by  his  master  from  a  sweet  sleep  of  an 
hour's  duration  ;  and,  bidding  adieu  to  Lowten,  they  returned  to  the  City, 


Q'2S  POSTHUMOUS  papers  of 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

DESCRIBES,  FAR  MORE  FULLY  THAN  THE  COURT  NEWSMAN  EVER 
DID,  A  bachelor's  PARTY,  GIVEN  BY  MR.  BOB  SAWYER  AT  HIS 
LODGINGS    IN    THE    BOROUGH. 

There  is  a  repose  about  Lant  Street,  in  the  Borough,  which 
sheds  a  gentle  melancholy  upon  the  soul.  There  are  always  a  good 
many  houses  to  let  in  the  street :  it  is  a  bye-street  too,  and  its  dulness 
is  soothing.  A  house  in  Lant  Street  would  not  come  within  the  deno- 
mination of  a  first-rate  residence,  in  the  strict  acceptation  of  the  term  ; 
but  it  is  a  most  desirable  spot  nevertheless.  If  a  man  wished  to  abstract 
himself  from  the  world  ;  to  remove  himself  from  within  the  reach  of 
temptation  ;  to  place  himself  beyond  the  possibility  of  any  inducement 
to  look  out  of  the  window,  we  should  recommend  him  by  all  means  to 
go  to  Lant  Street. 

In  this  happy  retreat  are  colonised  a  few  clear-starchers,  a  sprinkling 
of  journeymen  bookbinders,  one  or  two  prison  agents  for  the  Insolvent 
Court,  several  small  housekeepers  who  are  employed  in  the  Docks,  a 
handful  of  mantua-makers,  and  a  seasoning  of  jobbing  tailors.  The 
majority  of  the  inhabitants  either  direct  their  energies  to  the  letting  ot 
furnished  apartments,  or  devote  themselves  to  the  healthful  and  invigo- 
rating pursuit  of  mangling.  The  chief  features  in  the  still  life  of  the 
street,  are  green  shutters,  lorlging-bills,  brass  door-plates,  and  bell- 
handles  ;  the  principal  specimens  of  animated  nature,  the  pot-boy,  the 
muffin  youth,  and  the  baked-potato  man.  The  population  is  migratory, 
urually  disappearing  on  the  verge  of  quarter-day,  and  generally  by  night. 
His  Majesty's  revenues  are  seldom  collected  in  this  happy  valley,  the 
rents  are  dubious,  and  the  water  communication  is  very  frequently  cut 
off. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  embellished  one  side  of  the  fire,  in  his  first-floor  front, 
early  on  the  evening  for  which  he  had  invited  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  and  Mr. 
Ben  Allen  the  other.  The  preparations  for  the  reception  of  visiters 
appeared  to  be  completed.  The  umbrellas  in  the  passage  had  been 
heaped  into  the  little  corner  outside  the  back-parlour  door ;  the  bonnet 
and  shawl  of  the  landlady's  servant  had  been  removed  from  the  bannis- 
ters ;  there  were  not  more  than  two  pair  of  pattens  on  the  street-door 
mat ;  and  a  kitchen  candle,  with  a  very  long  snuff,  burnt  cheerfully  on 
the  ledge  of  the  staircase  window.  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  had  himself  pur- 
chased the  spirits  at  a  wine  vaults  in  High  Street,  and  had  returned 
home  preceding  the  bearer  thereof,  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  their 
delivery  at  the  wrong  house.  The  punch  was  ready-made  in  a  red  pan 
in  the  bed-room  ;  a  little  table,  covered  with  a  green  baize  cloth,  had  been 
borrowed  from  the  parlour,  to  play  at  cards  on  ;  and  the  glasses  of  the 
establishment,  together  with  those  which  had  been  borrowed  for  the 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB.  329 


L........... 

^■^deposited  on  the  landings  outside  the  door. 

Notwithstanding  the  highly  satisfactocy  nature  of  all  these  arrange- 
ments, there  was  a  cloud  on  the  countenance  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  as  he 
sat  by  the  fire  side.  There  was  a  sympathising  expression,  too,  in  the 
features  of  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  as  he  gazed  intently  on  the  coals  ;  and  a 
tone  of  melancholy  in  his  voice,  as  he  said,  after  a  long  silence — 

"  Well,  it  if  unlucky  that  she  should  have  taken  it  in  her  head  to 
turn  sour,  just  on  this  occasion.  She  might  at  least  have  waited  till 
to-morrow." 

"  That's  her  malevolence ;  that's  her  malevolence,"  returned  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  vehemently.  "  She  says  that  if  I  can  afford  to  give  a  party 
I  ought  to  be  able  to  afford  to  pay  her  confounded  '  little  bill'." 

"  How  long  has  it  been  running?"  inquired  Mr.  Ben  Allen.  A  bill, 
by  the  bye,  is  the  most  extraordinary  locomotive  engine  that  the  genius 
of  man  ever  produced.  It  would  keep  on  running  during  the  longest 
life-time,  without  ever  once  stopping  of  its  own  accord. 

"Only  a  quarter,  and  a  month  or  so,"  replied  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

Ben  Allen  coughed  hopelessly,  and  directed  a  searching  look  between 
the  two  top  bars  of  the  stove. 

"  It'll  be  a  deuced  unpleasant  thing  if  she  takes  it  into  her  head  to  let 
out,  when  those  fellows  are  here,  won't  it  ?  "  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen  at 
length. 

"  Horrible,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer,  "  horrible." 

A  low  tap  was  heard  at  the  room  door.  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  looked 
expressively  at  his  friend,  and  bade  the  tapper  come  in ;  whereupon  a 
dirty  slipshod  girl  in  black  cotton  stockings,  who  might  have  passed  for 
the  neglected  daughtei  of  a  superannuated  dustman  in  very  reduced 
circumstances,  thrust  in  her  head,  and  said, 

"  Please,  Mister  Savvyer,  Missis  Raddle  wants  to  speak  to  i/ou." 

Before  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  could  return  any  answer,  the  girl  suddenly 
disappeared  with  a  jerk,  as  if  somebody  had  given  her  a  violent  pull 
behind  ;  this  mysterious  exit  was  no  sooner  accomplished,  than  there 
was  another  tap  at  the  door — a  smart  pointed  tap,  which  seemed  to  say, 
"  Here  I  am,  and  in  I'm  coming." 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  glanced  at  his  friend  with  a  look  of  abject  appre- 
hension, and  once  more  cried  "  Come  in." 

The  permission  was  not  at  all  necessary,  for,  before  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer 
had  uttered  the  words,  a  little  fierce  woman  bounced  into  the  room,  all 
in  a  tremble  with  passion,  and  pale  with  rage. 

"  Now  Mr.  Sawyer,"  said  the  little  fierce  woman,  trying  to  appear  very 
calm-,  "  if  you'll  have  the  kindness  to  settle  that  little  bill  of  mine  I'll 
thank  you,  because  I've  got  my  rent  to  pay  this  afternoon,  and  my  land- 
lord's a  waiting  below  now."  Here  the  little  woman  rubbed  her  hands, 
and  looked  steadily  over  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  head,  at  the  wall  behind  him. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  put  you  to  any  inconvenience,  Mrs.  Raddle," 
said  Bob  Sawyer  deferentially,  "  but — " 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  any  inconvenience,"  replied  the  little  woman,  with  a 
shrill  titter.     "  I  didn't  want  it  particular  before  to-day  ;  leastways>  a» 


330  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

it  has  to  go  to  my  landlord  directly,  it  was  as  well  for  you  to  keep  it  as 
me.  You  promised  me  this  afternoon,  Mr.  Sawyer,  and  every  gentleman 
as  has  ever  lived  here  has  kept  his  word,  Sir,  as  of  course  anybody  as 
calls  himself  a  gentleman,  does."  And  Mrs.  Raddle  tossed  her  head, 
bit  her  lips,  rubbed  her  hands  harder,  and  looked  at  the  wall  more 
steadily  than  ever.  It  was  plain  to  see,  as  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  remarked 
in  a  style  of  eastern  allegory  on  a  subsequent  occasion,  that  she  was 
"getting  the  steam  up." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Mrs.  Raddle,"  said  Bob  Sawyer  with  all  imaginable 
humility,  "  but  the  fact  is,  that  I  have  been  disappointed  in  the  City 
to-day." — Extraordinary  place  that  city.  We  know  a  most  astonishing 
number  of  men  who  always  are  getting  disappointed  there. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Sawyer,"  said  Mrs.  Raddle,  planting  herself  firmly  on  a 
purple  cauliflower  in  the  Kidderminster  carpet,  "  and  what's  that  to  me, 
Sir?" 

"  I — I — have  no  doubt,  Mrs.  Raddle,"  said  Bob  Sawyer,  blinking  this 
last  question,  "  that  before  the  middle  of  next  week  we  shall  be  able  to 
set  ourselves  quite  square,  and  go  on  on  a  better  system,  afterwards." 

This  was  all  Mrs.  Raddle  wanted.  She  had  bustled  up  to  the 
apartment  of  the  unlucky  Bob  Sawyer  so  bent  upon  going  into  a  pas- 
sion, that  in  all  probability  payment  would  have  rather  disappointed  her 
than  otherwise.  She  was  in  excellent  order  for  a  little  relaxation  of 
the  kind,  having  just  exchanged  a  few  introductory  compliments  with 
Mr.  R.  in  the  front  kitchen. 

"  Do  you  suppose,  Mr.  Sawyer,"  said  Mrs.  Raddle,  elevating  her 
voice  for  the  information  of  the*neighbours,  "  do  you  suppose  that  I'm 
a-going  day  after  day  to  let  a  fellar  occupy  my  lodgings  as  never  thinks 
of  paying  his  rent,  nor  even  the  very  money  laid  out  for  the  fresh  butter 
and  lump  sugar  that's  bought  for  his  breakfast,  and  the  very  milk  that's 
took  in,  at  the  street  door?  Do  you  suppose  a  hard-working  and 
industrious  woman  as  has  lived  in  this  street  for  twenty  years  (ten 
years  over  the  way,  and  nine  years  and  three  quarters  in  this  very  house) 
has  nothing  else  to  do,  but  to  work  herself  to  death  after  a  parcel  of  lazy 
iale  fellars,  that  are  always  smoking  and  drinking,  and  lounging,  when 
they  ought  to  be  glad  to  turn  their  hands  to  anything  that  would  help 
*em  to  pay  their  bills?    Do  you — " 

*'  My  good  soul,"  interposed  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  soothingly. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  keep  your  observashuns  to  yourself  Sir,  I 
beg,"  said  Mrs.  Raddle,   suddenly   arresting  the    rapid  torrent  of  her 
speech,  and  addressing  the  third  party  with  impressive  slowness  and  so- 1 
lemnity.  "  I  am  not  aweer.  Sir,  that  you  have  any  right  to  address  youri 
conversation  to  me.     I  don't  think  I  let  these  apartments  to  you,  Sir."] 

*'  No,  you  certainly  did  not,"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

"  Very  good.   Sir,"  responded  Mrs.   Raddle,   with  lofty   politeness. 
"  Then  p'raps.  Sir,  you'll  confine  yourself  to  breaking  the  arms  and  legs 
of  the  poor  people  in  the  hospitals,  and  keep  yourself  to  yourself  Sir,« 
or  there  may  be  some  persons  here  as  will  make  you,  Sir." 

"  But  you  are  such  an  unreasonable  woman,"  remonstrated  Mr. 
Benjamin  Allen.  • 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB.  331 

"  I  beg  your  parding,  young  man,"  said  Mrs.  Raddle,  in  a  cold  per- 
spiration of  anger.  "  But  will  you  have  the  goodness  just  to  call  me 
that,  again.  Sir?" 

*'  I  didn't  make  use  of  the  word  in  any  invidious  manner,  ma'am," 
replied  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  growing  somewhat  uneasy  on  his  own 
tccount. 

"  I  beg  your  parding,  young  man,"  demanded  Mrs.  Raddle  in  a  louder 
and  more  imperative  tone.  *'  But  who  do  you  call  a  woman  ?  Did 
you  make  that  remark  to  me.  Sir  ?  " 

"  Why,  bless  my  heart  I"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

"  Did  you  apply  that  name  to  me,  I  ask  of  you,  Sir  ?"  interrupted 
Mrs.  Raddle  with  intense  fierceness,  throwing  the  door  wide  open. 

''  Why,  of  course  I  did,"  replied  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

*'  Yes,  of  course  you  did,"  said  Mrs.  Raddle,  backing  gradually  to 
the  door,  and  raising  her  voice  to  its  loudest  pitch,  for  the  special  behoof 
of  Mr.  Raddle  in  the  kitchen.  "  Yes,  of  course  you  did,  and  everybody 
knows  that  they  may  safely  insult  me  in  my  own  ouse  while  my  hus- 
band sits  sleeping  down  stairs,  and  taking  no  more  notice  than  if  I  was 
a  dog  in  the  streets.  He  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself  (here  Mrs. 
Raddle  sobbed)  to  allow  his  wife  to  be  treated  in  this  way  by  a  parcel 
of  young  cutters  and  carvers  of  live  people'^  bodies,  that  disgraces  the 
lodgings  (another  sob),  and  leaving  her  exposed  to  all  manner  of  abuse ; 
a  base  faint-hearted,  timorous  wretch,  that's  afraid  to  come  up  stairs,  and 
face  the  ruffinly  creatures — that's  afra»d — that's  afraid  to  come,"  Mrs. 
Raddle  paused  to  listen  whether  the  repetition  of  the  taunt  had  roused 
her  better  half ;  and,  finding  that  it  had  not  been  successful,  proceeded  to 
descend  the  stairs  with  sobs  innumerable,  when  there  came  a  loud  dou- 
ble knock  at  the  street  door :  whereupon  she  burst  into  an  hysterical 
fit  of  weeping,  accompanied  with  dismal  moans,  which  was  prolonged 
until  the  knock  had  been  repeated  six  times,  when,  in  an  uncontrollable 
burst  of  mental  agony,  she  threw  down  all  the  umbrellas,  and  disap- 
peared into  the  back  parlour,  closing  the  door  after  her  with  an  awful  crash. 

"  Does  Mr.  Sawyer  live  here  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  the  door 
was  opened. 

'•  Yes,"  said  the  girl,  "  first  floor.  It's  the  door  straight  afore  you, 
when  you  gets  to  the  top  of  the  stairs." — Having  given  this  instruc- 
tion, the  handmaid,  who  had  been  brought  up  among  the  aboriginal  in- 
habitants of  Southwark,  disappeared  with  the  candle  in  her  hand  down 
the  kitchen  stairs,  perfectly  satisfied  that  she  had  done  every  thing  that 
could  possibly  be  required  of  her  under  the  circumstances. 

Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  entered  last,  secured  the  street  door,  after  several 
ineffectual  efforts,  by  putting  up  the  chain  ;  and  the  friends  stumbled  up 
stairs,  where  they  were  received  by  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had  been 
afraid  to  go  down  lest  he  should  be  waylaid  by  Mrs.  Raddle. 

"  How  are  you  ?"  said  the  discomfited  student — "  Glad  to  see  you, 
—take  care  of  the  glasses."  This  caution  was  addressed  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, who  had  put  his  hat  in  the  tray. 

•'  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  '*  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  Don't  mention  it,  don't  mention  it,"  said  Bob  Sawyer.     "I'm  rather 


332  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

confined  for  room  here,  but  you  must  put  up  with  all  that,  when  you 
come  to  see  a  young-  bachelor.  Walk  in.  YouVe  seen  this  gentleman 
before,  I  think?"  Mr.  Pickwick  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen, 
and  his  friends  followed  his  example.  They  had  scarcely  taken  their 
seats  when  there  was  another  double  knock, 

"  I  hope  that's  Jack  Hopkins  ! "  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer.  "  Hush. 
Yes,  it  is.     Come  up.  Jack ;  come  up." 

A  heavy  footstep  was  heard  upon  the  stairs,  and  Jack  Hopkins  pre- 
sented himself.  He  wore  a  black  velvet  waistcoat,  with  thunder-and- 
lightning  buttons  ;  and  a  blue  striped  shirt,  with  a  white  false  collar. 

"  You're  late,  Jack  ?"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

"  Been  detained  at  Bartholomew's," — replied  Hopkins. 

"  Anything  new  ?  " 

"  No,  nothing  particular.  Rather  a  good  accident  brought  into  the 
casualty  ward." 

"  What  was  that,  Sir  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

**  Only  a  man  fallen  out  of  a  four  pair  of  stairs'  window ; — but  it's  a 
very  fair  case — very  fair  case  indeed." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  the  patient  is  in  a  fair  way  to  recover  ?  "  in- 
quired Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  No,"  replied  Hopkins,  carelessly.  "  No,  I  should  rather  say  he 
wouldn't.  There  must  be  a  splendid  operation  though,  to-morrow- 
magnificent  sight  if  Slasher  does  it." 

"  You  consider  Mr.  Slasher  a  good  operator?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Best  alive,"  replied  Hopkins.  "  Took  a  boy's  leg  out  of  the 
socket  last  week — boy  ate  five  apples  and  a  gingerbread  cake — exactly 
two  minutes  after  it  was  all  over,  boy  said  he  wouldn't  lie  there  to  be 
made  game  of;  and  he'd  tell  his  mother  if  they  didn't  begin." 

"  Dear  me  ! "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  astonished. 

"  Pooh !  that's  nothing,  that  ain't,"  said  Jack  Hopkins.  "  Is  it, 
Bob?" 

*•  Nothing  at  all,"  replied  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

^'  By  the  bye.  Bob,"  said  Hopkins,  with  a  scarcely  perceptible  glance 
at  Mr.  Pickwick's  attentive  face,  '^  we  had  a  curious  accident  last 
flight.     A  child  was  brought  in,  who  had  swallowed  a  necklace." 

"  Swallowed  what.  Sir?"  interrupted  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  A  necklace,"  replied  Jack  Hopkins.  "  Not  all  at  once,  you  know, 
that  would  be  too  much — you  couldn't  swallow  that,  if  the  child  did — eh, 
Mr.  Pickwick,  ha  !  ha  I  " — Mr.  Hopkins  appeared  highly  gratified  with 
his  own  pleasantry  ;  and  continued — "  No,  the  way  was  this  ; — child's 
parents  were  poor  people  who  lived  in  a  court.  Child's  eldest  sister 
bought  a  necklace, — common  necklace,  made  of  large  black  wooden 
beads.  Child,  being  fond  of  toys,  cribbed  the  necklace,  hid  it,  played 
with  it,  cut  the  string,  and  swallowed  a  bead.  Child  thought  it  capital 
fun,  went  back  next  day,  and  swallowed  another  bead." 

"  Bless  my  heart,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "what  a  dreadful  thing  I  I 
beg  your  pardon,  Sir.     Go  on." 

''  Next  day,  child  swallowed  two  beads ;  the  day  after  that,  he  treated 
himself  to  three,  and  so  on,  till  in  a  week's  time  he  had  got  through 


■ 


THE  PICKWICK   CLUB  333 

the  necklace,  fire-and-twenty  beads  in  all.  The  sister,  who  was  an 
industrious  g-irl,  and  seldom  treated  herself  to  a  bit  of  finery,  cried  her 
eyes  out,  at  the  loss  of  the  necklace  ;  looked  high  and  low  for  it ;  but 
I  needn't  say  didn't  find  it.  A  few  days  afterwards,  the  family  were  at 
dinner — baked  shoulder  of  mutton,  and  potatoes  under  it — the  child, 
who  wasn't  hungry,  was  playing  about  the  room,  when  suddenly  there 
was  heard  a  devil  of  a  noise,  like  a  small  hail  storm.  *  Don't  do  that, 
my  boy,'  said  the  father.  '  I  ain't  a  doin'  nothing,'  said  the  child. 
*  Well,  don't  do  it  again,'  said  the  father.  There  was  a  short  silence, 
and  then  the  noise  began  again,  worse  than  ever.  '  If  you  don't  mind 
what  I  say,  my  boy,'  said  the  father,  *  you'll  find  yourself  in  bed,  in 
something  less  than  a  pig's  whisper.'  He  gave  the  child  a  shake  to 
make  him  obedient,  and  such  a  rattling  ensued  as  nobody  ever  heard 
before.  '  Why,  damme,  it's  in  the  child  I '  said  the  father,  '  he's  got  the 
croup  in  the  wrong  place  !'  '  No  I  haven't,  father,'  said  the  child,  begin- 
ning to  cry,  *  it's  the  necklace  ;  I  swallowed  it,  father.' — The  father 
caught  the  child  up,  and  ran  with  him  to  the  hospital :  the  beads  in  the 
boy's  stomach  rattling  all  the  way  with  the  jolting ;  and  the  people 
looking  up  in  the  air,  and  down  in  the  cellars,  to  see  where  the  unusual 
sound  came  from.  He's  in  the  hospital  now,"  said  Jack  Hopkin-s, 
"  and  he  makes  such  a  devil  of  a  noise  when  he  walks  about,  that 
they're  obliged  to  muffle  him  in  a  watchman's  coat,  for  fear  he  should 
wake  I  he  patients  I " 

**  That's  the  most  extraordinary  case  I  ever  heard  of,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, with  an  emphatic  blow  on  the  table. 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing,"  said  Jack  Hopkins  ;  "  is  it.  Bob  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer.  » 

"  Very  singular  things  occur  in  our  profession,  I  can  assure  you, 
Sir,"  said  Hopkins. 

"  So  I  should  be  disposed  to  imagine,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Another  knock  at  the  door,  announced  a  large-headed  young  man  in 
a  black  wig,  who  brought  with  him  a  scorbutic  youth  in  a  long  stock. 
The  next  comer  was  a  gentleman  in  a  shirt  emblazoned  with  pink 
anchors,  who  was  closely  followed  by  a  pale  youth  with  a  plated  watch- 
guard.  The  arrival  of  a  prim  personage  in  clean  linen  and  cloth  boots 
rendered  the  party  complete.  The  little  table  with  the  green  baize 
cover  was  wheeled  out ;  the  first  instalment  of  punch  was  brought  in,  in 
a  white  jug ;  and  the  succeeding  three  hours  were  devoted  to  vingt-un 
at  sixpence  a  dozen,  which  was  only  once  interrupted  by  a  slight  dis- 
pute between  the  scorbutic  youth  and  the  gentleman  with  the  pink 
anchors  ;  in  the  course  of  which,  the  scorbutic  youth  intimated  a  burn- 
ing desire  to  pull  the  nose  of  the  gentleman  with  the  emblems  of  hope, 
in  reply  to  which,  that  individual  expressed  his  decided  unwillingness  to 
accept  of  any  "  sauce"  on  gratuitous  terms,  either  from  the  irascible 
young  gentleman  with  the  scorbutic  countenance,  or  any  other  person 
who  was  ornamented  with  a  head. 

When  the  last  "  natural "  had  been  declared,  and  the  profit  and  loss 
account  of  fish  and  sixpences  adjusted,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  parties, 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  rang  for  supper,  and  the  visiters  squeezed  themselves 
.into  corners  while  it  was  getting  ready. 


334  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

It  was  not  so  easily  got  ready  as  some  people  may  imagine.  First  of 
all,  it  was  necessary  to  awaken  the  girl,  who  had  fallen  asleep  with  her 
face  on  the  kitchen  table  ;  this  took  a  little  time,  and,  even  when  she  did 
answer  the  bell,  another  quarter  of  an  hour  was  consumed  in  fruitless 
endeavours  to  impart  to  her  a  faint  and  distant  glimmering  of  reason. 
The  man  to  whom  the  order  for  the  oysters  had  been  sent,  had  not  been 
told  to  open  them ;  it  is  a  very  difficult  thing  to  open  an  oyster  with  a 
limp  knife  or  a  two-pronged  fork,  and  very  little  was  done  in  this  way. 
Very  little  of  the  beef  was  done  either ;  and  the  ham  (which  was  also 
from  the  German  sausage-shop  round  the  corner)  was  in  a  similar  predi- 
cament. However,  there  was  plenty  of  porter  in  a  tin  can ;  and  the 
cheese  went  a  great  way,  for  it  was  very  strong.  So  upon  the  whole, 
perhaps,  the  supper  was  quite  as  good  as  such  matters  usually  are. 

After  supper  another  jug  of  punch  was  put  upon  the  table,  together 
with  a  paper  of  cigars,  and  a  couple  of  bottles  of  spirits.  Then  there 
was  an  awful  pause;  and  this  awful  pause  was  occasioned  by  a  very 
common  occurrence  in  this  sort  of  places,  but  a  very  embarrassing  one 
notwithstanding. 

The  fact  is,  that  the  girl  was  washing  the  glasses.  The  establish- 
ment boasted  four ;  we  do  not  record  the  circumstance  as  at  all  deroga- 
tory to  Mrs.  Raddle,  for  there  never  was  a  lodging-house  yet,  that  was 
not  short  of  glasses.  The  landlady's  glasses  were  little  thin  blown 
glass  tumblers,  and  those  which  had  been  borrowed  from  the  public 
house  were  great,  dropsical,  bloate'l  articles,  each  supported  on  a  huge 
gouty  leg.  This  would  have  been  in  itself  sufficient  to  have  possessed 
the  company  with  the  real  state  of  affairs ;  but  the  young  woman  of  all 
worl^  had  prevented  the  possibility  of  any  misconception  arising  in  the 
mind  of  any  gentleman  upon  the  subject,  by  forcibly  dragging  every 
man's  glass  away,  long  before  he  had  finished  his  beer,  and  audibly 
stating,  despite  the  winks  and  interruptions  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  that  it 
was  to  be  conveyed  down  stairs,  and  washed  forthwith. 

It  is  a  very  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  any  good.  The  prim  man  in 
the  cloth  boots,  who  had  been  unsuccessfully  attempting  to  make  a  joke 
during  the  whole  time  the  round  game  lasted,  saw  his  opportunity,  and 
availed  himself  of  it.  The  instant  the  glasses  disappeared  he  com- 
menced a  long  story  about  a  great  public  character,  whose  name  he  had 
forgotten,  making  a  particularly  happy  reply  to  another  eminent  and 
illustrious  individual  whom  he  had  never  been  able  to  identify.  He 
enlarged  at  some  length  and  with  great  minuteness  upon  divers  colla- 
teral circumstances,  distinctly  connected  with  the  anecdote  in  hand,  but 
for  the  life  of  him  he  couldn't  recollect  at  that  precise  moment  what  the 
anecdote  was,  although  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  telling  the  story  with 
great  applause  for  the  last  ten  years. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  the  prim  man  in  the  cloth  boots,  "it  is  a  very 
extraordinary  circumstance."  ^      { 

"  I  am  sorry  you  have  forgotten  it,"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  glancing 
eagerly  at  the  door,  as  he  thought  he  heard  the  noise  of  glasses  jingling 
— *'  very  sorry." 

"  So  ami,"  responded  the  prim  man,  "because  I  know  it  wonM  have 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB.  835 

afforded  so  much  amusement.     Never  mind ;  I  dare  say  I  shall  manage 
to  recollect  it,  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour  or  so." 

The  prim  man  arrived  at  this  point,  just  as  the  glasses  came  back, 
when  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had  been  absorbed  in  attention  during  the 
whole  time,  said  he  should  very  much  like  to  hear  the  end  of  it,  for,  so 
far  as  it  went,  it  was,  without  exception,  the  very  best  story  he  had  ever 
heard. 

The  sight  of  the  tumblers  restored  Bob  Sawyer  to  a  degree  of  equa- 
nimity which  he  had  not  possessed  since  his  interview  with  his  landlady. 
His  face  brightened  up,  and  he  began  to  feel  quite  convivial. 

"  Now,  Betsy,"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  great  suavity,  and  dis- 
persing, at  the  same  time,  the  tumultuous  little  mob  of  glasses  that  the 
girl  had  collected  in  the  centre  of  the  table ;  "  now,  Betsy,  the  warm 
water  :  be  brisk,  there's  a  good  girl." 

"  You  can't  have  no  warm  water,"  replied  Betsy. 

"  No  warm  water  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  No,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  shake  of  the  head  which  expressed  a 
more  decided  negative  than  the  most  copious  language  could  have  con- 
veyed.    "  Missis  Raddle  said  you  warn't  to  have  none." 

The  surprise  depicted  on  the  countenances  of  his  guests  imparted 
new  courage  to  the  host. 

"Bring  up  the  warm  water  instantly — instantly!"  said  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer,  with  desperate  sternness. 

"  No ;  I  can't,"  replied  the  girl ;  "  Missis  Raddle  raked  out  the 
kitchen  fire  afore  she  went  to  bed,  and  locked  up  the  kittle." 

"  Oh,  never  mind ;  never  mind.  Pray  don't  disturb  yourself  about 
such  a  trifle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  observing  the  conflict  of  Bob 
Sawyer's  passions,  as  depicted  in  his  countenance,  "  cold  water  will  do 
very  well." 

*'  Oh,  admirably,"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

*'  My  landlady  is  subject  to  some  slight  attacks  of  mental  derange- 
ment," remarked  Bob  Sawyer  with  a  ghastly  smile ;  **  I  fear  I  must  give 
her  warning." 

"  No,  don't,"  said  Ben  Allen. 

''  I  fear  I  must,"  said  Bob  with  heroic  firmness.  "  I'll  pay  her  what 
I  owe  her,  and  give  her  warning  to-morrow  morning."  Poor  fellow  I 
how  devoutly  he  wished  he  could ! 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  heart-sickening  attempts  to  rally  under  this  last 
blow  communicated  a  dispiriting  influence  to  the  company,  the  greater 
part  of  whom,  with  the  view  of  raising  their  spirits,  attached  themselves 
with  extra  cordiality  to  the  cold  brandy  and  water,  the  first  perceptible 
effects  of  which  were  displayed  in  a  renewal  of  hostilities  between  the 
scorbutic  youth  and  the  gentleman  in  the  sanguine  shirt.  The  belli- 
gerents vented  their  feelings  of  mutual  contempt,  for  some  time,  in  a 
variety  of  frownings  and  snortings,  until  at  last  the  scorbutic  youth  felt 
it  necessary  to  come  to  a  more  explicit  understanding  on  the  "matter, 
when  the  following  clear  understanding  took  place. 

"  Sawyer,"  said  the  scorbutic  youth,  in  a  loud  voice. 

"  Well,  Noddy,"  replied  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 


336  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS   OF 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry.  Sawyer,"  said  Mr.  Noddy,  '<  to  create  any 
unpleasantness  at  any  friend's  table,  and  much  less  at  yours,  Sawyer, — 
very ;  but  I  must  take  this  opportunity  of  informing-  Mr.  Gunter  that 
he  is  no  g-entleman." 

"  And  /  should  be  very  sorry,  Sawyer,  to  create  any  disturbance  in 
the  street  in  which  you  resrde,"  said  Mr.  Gunter,  "  but  I'm  afraid  I 
shall  be  under  the  necessity  of  alarming  the  neighbours  by  throwing  the 
person  who  has  just  spoken,  out  o'  window." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that.  Sir  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Noddy. 

"  What  I  say.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Gunter. 

*'  I  should  like  to  see  you  do  it.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Noddy. 

"  You  shall  j^e^  me  do  it  in  half  a  minute.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Gunter. 

"  I  request  that  you'll  favour  me  with  your  card,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Noddy. 

"  I'll  do  nothing"  of  the  kind.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Gunter. 

"Why  not.  Sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Noddy. 

*'  Because  you'll  stick  it  up  over  your  chimney-piece,  and  delude  your 
visiters  into  the  false  belief  that  a  gentleman  has  been  to  see  you.  Sir," 
replied  Mr.  Gunter. 

*'  Sir,  a  friend  of  mine  shall  wait  on  you  in  the  morning,"  said  Mr. 
Noddy. 

'*  Sir,  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  caution,  and  I'll  leave 
particular  directions  with  the  servant  to  lock  up  the  spoons,"  replied 
Mr.  Gunter. 

At  this  point  the  remainder  of  the  guests  interposed,  and  remon- 
strated with  both  parties  on  the  impropriety  of  their  conduct,  on 
which  Mr.  Noddy  begged  to  state  that  his  father  was  quite  as  respectable 
as  Mr.  Gunter's  father ;  to  which  Mr.  Gunter  replied  that  his  father 
was  to  the  full  as  respectable  as  Mr.  Noddy's  father,  and  that  his  father's 
son  was  as  good  a  man  as  Mr.  Noddy,  any  day  in  the  week.  As  this 
announcement  seemed  the  prelude  to  a  recommencement  of  the  dispute, 
there  was  another  interference  on  the  part  of  the  company ;  and  a  vast 
quantity  of  talking  and  clamouring  ensued,  in  the  course  of  which  Mr. 
Noddy  gradually  allowed  his  feelings  to  overpower  him,  and  professed 
that  he  had  ever  entertained  a  devoted  personal  attachment  towards  Mr. 
Gunter.  To  this  Mr.  Gunter  replied  that,  upon  the  whole,  he  rather 
preferred  Mr.  Noddy  to  his  own  brother ;  on  hearing  which  admission 
Mr.  Noddy  magnanimously  rose  from  his  seat,  and  proffered  his  hand 
to  Mr.  Gunter.  Mr.  Gunter  grasped  it  with  affecting  fervour ;  and 
everybody  said  that  the  w^hole  dispute  had  been  conducted  in  a  manner 
which  was  highly  honourable  to  both  parties  concerned. 

<•  Now,"  said  Jack  Hopkins,  "  just  to  set  us  going  again,  Bob,  I 
don't  mind  singing  a  song."  And  Hopkins,  incited  thereto,  by  tumul- 
tuous applause,  plunged  himself  at  once  into  'The  King,  God  bless  him,' 
which  he  sang  as  loud  as  he  could,  to  a  novel  air,  compounded  of  the 
*  Bay  of  Biscay,'  and  *  A  Frog  he  would.' — The  chorus  was  the  essence 
of  the  song,  and,  as  each  gentleman  sang  it  to  the  tune  he  knew  best, 
the  effect  was  very  striking  indeed. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  the  chorus  to  the  first  verse,  that  Mr.  Pickwick 
held  up  his  hand  in  a  listening  attitude,  and  said,  as  soon  as  silence  was 
restored — 


THE  PICKWICK   CLUB.  387 


|H  "  Hush  !  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  thought  I  heard  somebody  calling 
from  up  stairs/' 

A  profound  silence  immediately  ensued ;  and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was 
observed  to  turn  pale. 

"  I  think  I  hear  it  now,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Have  the  goodness 
to  open  the  door." 

The  door  was  no  sooner  opened  than  all  doubt  on  the  subject  was 
removed. 

"  Mr.  Sawyer — Mr.  Sawyer* '^screamed  a  voice  from  the  two-pair 
landing. 

"  It's  my  landlady,"  said  Bob  Sawyer,  looking  round  him  with  great 
dismay.     ''  Yes,  Mrs.  Raddle." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  this,  Mr.  Sawyer  ?  "  replied  the  voice,  with 
great  shrillness  and  rapidity  of  utterance.  "  Ain't  it  enough  to  be 
swindled  out  of  one's  rent,  and  money  lent  out  of  pocket  besides,  and 
abused  and  insulted  by  your  friends  that  dares  to  call  themselves  men, 
without  having  the  house  turned  out  of  window,  and  noise  enough 
made  to  bring  the  fire-engines  here,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  ? — 
Turn  them  wretches  away." 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves,"  said  the  voice  of  Mr. 
Raddle,  which  appeared  to  proceed  from  beneath  some  distant  bed- 
clothes. 

*^  Ashamed  of  themselves  ! "  said  Mrs.  Raddle.  "  Why  don't  yoU  go 
down  and  knock  'em  every  one  down  stairs  ?  you  would  if  you  was  a 
man." 

"  I  should  if  I  was  a  dozen  men,  my  dear/'  replied  Mr.  Raddle,  paci- 
fically, "  but  they've  rather  the  advantage  of  me  in  numbers,  my  dear." 

"  Ugh,  you  coward  !"  replied  Mrs.  Raddle,  with  supreme  contempt. 
"  Do  you  mean  to  turn  them  wretches  out,  or  not,  Mr.  Sawyer  ?" 

"  They're  going,  Mrs.  Raddle,  they're  going/'  said  the  miserable  Bob. 
'*  I  am  afraid  you'd  better  go,"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  to  his  friends. 
"  I  thought  you  were  making  too  much  noise." 

"  It's  a  very  unfortunate  thing,"  said  the  prim  man.  "  Just  as  we 
were  getting  so  comfortable  too  !"  The  fact  was,  that  the  prim  man 
was  just  beginning  to  have  a  dawning  recollection  of  the  story  he  had 
forgotten. 

"  It's  hardly  to  be  borne,"  said  the  prim  man,  looking  round. 
"  Hardly  to  be  borne,  is  it  ?" 

"  Not  to  be  endured,"  replied  Jack  Hopkins  ;  "  let's  have  the  other 
verse.  Bob  ;  come,  here  goes." 

"  No,  no.  Jack,  don't/'  interposed  Bob  Sawyer ;  "  it's  a  capital  song, 
but  I  am  afraid  we  had  better  not  have  the  other  verse.  They  are  very 
violent  people,  the  people  of  the  house." 

"  Shall  I  step  up  stairs,  and  pitch  into  the  landlord  ?"  inquired  Hop- 
kins, *'  or  keep  on  ringing  the  bell,  or  go  and  groan  on  the  staircase  ? 
You  may  command  me.  Bob/' 

"  I  am  very  much  indebted  to  you  for  your  friendship  and  good 
nature,  Hopkins,"  said  the  wretched  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  "  but  I  think 
the  best  plan  to  avoid  any  further  dispute  is  for  us  to  break  up  at 
once/' 


338  POSTHUMOUS   PAi'£kS   of 

"  Now,  Mr.  Sawyer,"  screamed  the  shrill  voice  of  Mrs.  Raddle,  "  are 
them  brutes  going  ?" 

"  They're  only  looking  for  their  hats,  Mrs.  Raddle,"  said  Bob  ;  "  they 
are  going  directly." 

"  Going!"  said  Mrs.  Raddle,  thrusting  her  night-cap  over  the  ban- 
nisters just  as  iMr.  Pickwick,  followed  by  Mr.  Tupman,  emerged  from 
the  sitting-room.     "  Going  !  What  did  they  ever  come  for?" 

"  My  dear  ma'am,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  up. 

"  Get  along  with  you,  you  old  wretch !"  replied  Mrs.  Raddle,  hastily 
withdrawing  the  night-cap.  "  Old  enough  to  be  his  grandfather^  you 
villin  !     You're  worse  than  any  of  'em." 

Mr.  Pickwick  found  it  in  vain  to  protest  his  innocence,  so  hurried 
down  stairs  into  the  street,  whither  he  was  closely  followed  by  Mr.  Tup- 
man,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass.  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  who  was  dis- 
mally depressed  with  spirits  and  agitation,  accompanied  them  as  far  as 
London  Bridge,  and  in  the  course  of  the  walk  confided  to  Mr.  Winkle, 
as  an  especially  eligible  person  to  intrust  the  secret  to,  that  he  was 
resolved  to  cut  the  throat  of  any  gentleman  except  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  who 
should  aspire  to  the  affections  of  his  sister  Arabella.  Having  expressed 
his  determination  to  perform  this  painful  duty  of  a  brother  with  proper 
firmness,  he  burst  into  tears,  knocked  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and,  making 
the  best  of  his  way  back,  knocked  double  knocks  at  the  door  of  the 
Borough  Market,  and  took  short  naps  on  the  steps  alternately,  till  day- 
break, under  the  firm  impression  that  he  lived  there,  and  had  forgotten 
the  key. 

The  visiters  having  all  departed,  in  compliance  with  the  rather  press- 
ing request  oi  Mrs.  Raddle,  the  luckless  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  left 
alone,  to  meditate  on  the  probable  events  of  the  morrow,  and  the  plea- 
sures of  the  evening. 


THE   riCXWICRCLUB.  339 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

MR.  WELLER  THE  ELDER  DELIVERS  SOME  CRITICAL  SENTIMENTS 
RESPECTING  LITERARY  COMPOSITION;  AND,  ASSISTED  BY  HIS  SON 
SAMUEL,  PAYS  A  SMALL  INSTALMENT  OF  RETALIATION  TO  THE 
ACCOUNT    OF    THE    REVEREND    GENTLEMAN  WITH    THE    RED  NOSE. 

The  morning  of  the  thirteenth  of  February,  which  the  readers  of  this 
authentic  narrative  know,  as  well  as  we  do,  to  have  been  the  day  im- 
mediately preceding  that  which  was  appointed  for  the  trial  of  Mrs. 
Bardell's  action,  was  a  busy  time  for  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  who  was 
perpetually  engaged  in  travelling  from  the  George  and  Vulture  to  Mr. 
Perker's  chambers  and  back  again,  from  and  between  the  hours  of  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning  and  two  in  the  afternoon,  both  inclusive.  Not 
that  there  was  anything  whatever  to  be  done,  for  the  consultation  had 
taken  place,  and  the  course  of  proceeding  to  be  adopted,  had  been 
finally  determined  on,  but  Mr.  Pickwick  being  in  a  most  extreme  state 
of  excitement,  persevered  in  constantly  sending  small  notes  to  his 
attorney,  merely  containing  the  enquiry,  "  Dear  Perker — Is  all  going 
on  well  ?  "  to  which  Mr.  Perker  invariably  forwarded  the  reply,  "  Dear 
Pickwick — As  well  as  possible  ;"  the  fact  being  as  we  have  already  hinted 
that  there  was  nothing  whatever  to  go  on,  either  well  or  ill,  until  the 
sitting  of  the  court  on  the  following  morning. 

But  people  who  go  voluntarily  to  law,  or  are  taken  forcibly  there, 
for  the  first  time,  may  be  allowed  to  labour  under  some  temporary  irri- 
tation and  anxiety :  and  Sam,  with  a  due  allowance  for  the  frailties  of 
human  nature,  obeyed  all  his  master's  behests  with  that  imperturbable 
good  humour  and  unruffable  composure,  which  formed  one  of  his  most 
striking  and  amiable  characteristics. 

Sam  had  solaced  himself  with  a  most  agreeable  little  dinner,  and  was 
waiting  at  the  bar  for  the  glass  of  warm  mixture  in  which  Mr.  Pick- 
wick had  requested  him  to  drown  the  fatigues  of  his  morning's  walks, 
when  a  young  boy  of  about  three  feet  high,  or  thereabouts,  in  a  hairy 
cap  and  fustian  overalls,  whose  garb  bespoke  a  laudable  ambition  to 
attain  in  time  the  elevation  of  an  hostler,  entered  the  passage  of  the 
George  and  Vulture,  and  looked  first  up  the  stairs,  and  then  along  the 
passage,  and  then  into  the  bar,  as  if  in  search  of  somebody  to 
whom  he  bore  a  commission  ;  whereupon  the  barmaid,  conceiving  it  not 
improbable  that  the  said  commission  might  be  directed  to  the  tea  or 
table  spoons  of  the  establishment,  accosted  the  boy  with 

"  Now,  young  man,  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Is  there  anybody  here,  named  Sam  ?  "  inquired  the  youth,  in  a  loud 
voice  of  treble  quality. 

c  c 


340  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  What's  the  t'other  name  ?  "  said  Sam  Weller,  looking  round. 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  "  briskly  replied  the  young  gentleman  below 
the  hairy  cap. 

«  You're  a  sharp  boy,  you  are."  said  Mr.  Weller;  "  only  I  wouldn't 
show  that  wery  fine  edge  too  much,  if  I  was  you,  in  case  anybody  took 
it  off.  What  do  you  mean  by  comin*  to  a  hot-el,  and  asking  arter  Sam, 
vith  as  much  politeness  as  a  vild  Indian  ?  " 

"  'Cos  an  old  gen'hn'n  told  me  to,"  replied  the  boy. 

*-'  What  old  gen'lm'n  ?  "  inquired  Sam,  with  deep  disdain. 

"Him  as  drives  a  Ipswich  coach,  and  uses  our  parlour" — rejoined  the 
boy.  He  told  me  yesterday  mornin'  to  come  to  the  George  in  Wultur 
this  arternoon,  and  ask  for  Sam." 

"It's  my  father,  my  dear" — said  Mr.  Weller,  turning  with  an  expla- 
natory air  to  the  young  lady  in  the  bar ; ."  blessed  if  I  think  he  hardly 
knows  wot  my  other  name  is.  Veil,  young  brockiley  sprout,  wot 
then?" 

"  Why  then,*'  said  the  boy,  "  you  wos  to  come  to  him  at  six  o'clock 
to  our  'ouse  'cos  he  wants  to  see  you — Blue  Boar,  Leaden'all  Markit, 
Shall  I  say  you're  comin'  ?  " 

"You  mat/  wenture  on  that  'ere  statement,  Sir,"  replied  Sam.  And 
thus  empowered,  the  young  gentleman  walked  away,  awakening  all  the, 
echoes  in  George  Yard  as  he  did  so,  with  several  chaste  and  extremely 
correct  imitations  of  a  drover's  whistle,  delivered  in  a  tone  of  peculiar 
richness  and  volume. 

Mr.  Weller  having  obtained  leave  of  absence  from  Mr.  Pickwick, 
who,  in  his  then  state  of  excitement  and  worry  was  by  no  means 
displeased  at  being  left  alone,  set  forth  long  before  the  appointed  hour^ 
and  having  plenty  of  time  at  his  disposal,  sauntered  down  as  far  as  the 
Mansion  House,  where  he  paused  and  contemplated,  with  a  face  of 
great  calmness  and  philosophy,  the  numerous  cads  and  drivers  of  short; 
stages  who  assemble  near  that  famous  place  of  resort,  to  the  great 
terror  and  confusion  of  the  old-lady  population  of  these  realms. 
Having  loitered  here,  for  half  an  hour  or  so,  Mr.  Weller  turned,  and 
began  wending  his  way  towards  Leadenhall  Market,  through  a  variety 
of  bye  streets  and  courts.  As  he  was  sauntering  away  his  spare  time, 
and  stopped  to  look  at  almost  every  object  that  met  his  gaze,  it  is  by 
no  means  surprising  that  Mr.  Weller  should  have  paused  before  a  small 
stationer's  and  print-seller's  window  ;  but  without  further  explanation  it 
does  appear  surprising  that  his  eyes  should  have  no  sooner  rested  on 
certain  pictures  which  were  exposed  for  sale  therein,  than  he  gave  a 
sudden  start,  smote  his  right  leg  with  great  vehemence,  and  exclaimed 
with  energy,  "If  it  hadn't  been  for  this,  I  should  ha'  forgot  all  about 
it,  till  it  was  too  late  ! " 

The  particular  picture  on  which  Sam  Weller's  eyes  were  fixed,  as  he 
said  this,  was  a  highly  coloured  representation  of  a  couple  of  human 
hearts  skewered  together  with  an  arrow,  cooking  before  a  cheerful  fire, 
while  a  male  and  female  cannibal  in  modern  attire,  the  gentleman  being 
clad  in  a  blue  coat  and  white  trousers,  and  the  lady  in  a  deep  red  pelisse 
with  a  parasol  of  the  same,  were  apnroaching  the  meal  with  hurigrvL 


THE  PICKWICK    CLUB.  PAl 

eyes,  up  a  serpentine  gravel  path  leading  thereunto.  A  decidedly  inbe- 
licate  young  gentleman,  in  a  pair  of  wings  and  nothing  else,  was  de- 
picted as  superintending  the  cooking;  a  representation  of  the  spire  of 
the  church  in  Langham  Place,  appeared  in  the  distance;  and  the' whole 
formed  a  "  valentine,"  of  which,  as  a  written  inscriptino  in  the  window 
testified,  there  was  a  large  assortment  within,  which  the  shopkeeper 
pledged  himself  to  dispose  of  to  his  countrymen  generally,  at  the  reduced 
rate  of  one  and  sixpence  each. 

"  I  should  ha'  forgot  it ;  I  should  certainly  ha'  forgot  it !  "  said  Sara  ; 
and  so  saying,  he  at  once  stepped  into  the  stationer's  shop,  and  request- 
ed to  be  served  with  a  sheet  of  the  best  gilt-edged  letter-paper,  and  a 
hard-nibbed  pen  which  could  be  warranted  not  to  splutter.  These 
articles  having  been  promptly  supplied,  he  walked  on  direct  towards 
Leadenhall  Market  at  a  good  round  pace,  very  different  from  his  recent 
lingering  one.  Looking  round  him,  he  there  beheld  a  sign-board  on 
which  the  painter's  art  had  delineated  something  remotely  resembling  a 
cerulean  elephant  with  an  aquiline  nose  in  lieu  of  trunk.  Rightly  con- 
jecturing that  this  was  the  Blue  Boar  himself,  he  stepped  into  the 
house,  and  inquired  concerning  his  parent. 

"  He  won't  be  here  this  three  quarters  of  an  hour  or  more,"  said 
the  young  lady  who  superintended  the  domestic  arrangements  of  the 
Blue  Boar. 

"  Wery  good,  my  dear,"  replied  Sam.  "  Let  me  have  nine  penn'orth 
o'  brandy  and  water  luke,  and  the  inkstand,  will  you,  miss  ?  " 

The  brandy  and  water  luke  and  the  inkstand  having  been  carried  into 
the  little  parlour,  and  the  young  lady  having  carefully  flattened  down 
the  coals  to  prevent  their  blazing,  and  carried  away  the  poker  to  pre- 
clude the  possibility  of  the  fire  being  stirred,  without  the  full  privity 
and  concurrence  of  the  Blue  /Boar  being  first  had  and  obtained,  Sam 
Weller  sat  himself  down  in  a  box  near  the  stove,  and  pulled  out  the 
sheet  of  gilt-edged  letter-paper,  and  the  hard-nibbed  pen.  Then,  looking 
carefully  at  the  pen  to  see  that  there  were  no  hairs  in  it,  and  dusting 
down  the  table,  so  that  there  might  be  no  crumbs  of  bread  under  the 
paper,  Sam  tucked  up  the  cuffs  of  his  coat,  squared  his  elbows,  and 
composed  himself  to  write. 

To  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  are  not  in  the  habit  of  devoting  them- 
selves practically  to  the  science  of  penmanship,  writing  a  letter  is  no 
very  easy  task,  it  being  always  considered  necessary  in  such  cases  for 
Ihe  writer  to  recline  his  head  on  his  left  arm  so  as  to  place  his  eyes  as 
nearly  as  possible  on  a  level  with  the  paper,  and  while  glancing  side^ 
ways  at  the  letters  he  is  constructing,  to  form  with  his  tongue  ima- 
ginary characters  to  correspond.  These  motions,  although  unquestion- 
ably of  the  greatest  assistance  to  original  composition,  retard  in  some 
degree  the  progress  of  the  writer,  and  Sam  had  unconsciously  been  a 
full  hour  and  a  half  writing  words  in  small  text,  smearing  out  wrong 
letters  with  his  little  finger,  and  putting  in  new  ones  which  required 
going  over  very  often  to  render  them  visible  through  the  old  blots, 
when  he  was  roused  by  the  opening  of  the  door  and  the  entrance  of  his 
irent. 

c  c  2 


342  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OH 

"  Veil,  Sammy,'*  said  the  father. 

"Veil,  my  Prooshan  Blue,"  responded  the  son,  laying  down  his 
pen.     *'  What's  the  last  bulletin  about  mother-in-law  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Veller  passed  a  wery  good  night,  but  is  uncommon  perwerse, 
and  unpleasant  this  mornin' — signed  upon  oath — S.  Veller,  Esquire, 
Senior.  That's  the  last  vun  as  was  issued,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller,  untying  his  shawl. 

"  No  better  yet  ?  "  inquired  Sam. 

«  All  the  symptoms  aggerawated,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  shaking  his 
head.  "  But  wot's  that,  you're  a  doin*  of — pursuit  of  knowledge  under 
difficulties — eh  Sammy?" 

"  I've  done  now,"  said  Sam  with  slight  embarrassment ;  "  I've  been 
a  writinV* 

*'  So  I  see,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "  Not  to  any  young  'ooman,  I 
hope,  Sammy.** 

**  Why  it's  no  use  a  sayin'  it  ain't,"  replied  Sam,  "  It's  a  walentine." 

"  A  what  I  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  apparently  horror-stricken  by 
the  word. 

"  A  walentine,"  replied  Sam. 

**Samivel,  Samivel,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  reproachful  accents,  "  I  didn't 
think  you'd  ha*  done  it.  Arter  the  warnin'  you're  had  o'  your  father's 
wicious  perpensities,  arter  all  I've  said  to  you  upon  this  here  wery  sub- 
ject; arter  actiwally  seein'  and  bein'  in  the  company  o*  your  own  mother- 
in-law,  vich  I  should  ha'  thought  wos  a  moral  lesson  as  no  man  could 
ever  ha*  forgotten  to  his  dyin'  day  I  I  didn't  think  you'd  ha'  done  it, 
Sammy,  I  didn't  think  you'd  ha'  done  it."  These  reflections  were  too 
much  for  the  good  old  man.  He  raised  Sam's  tumbler  to  his  lips  and 
drank  off  its  contents. 

"  Wot's  the  matter  now  !  "  said  Sam. 

"  Nev'r  mind,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr. Weller, "  it'll  be  a  wery  agonizin* 
trial  to  me  at  my  time  of  life,  but  I'm  pretty  tough,  that's  vun  conso- 
lation, as  the  wery  old  turkey  remarked  ven  the  farmer  said  he  wos 
afeerd  he  should  be  obliged  to  kill  him,  for  the  London  market." 

*' Wot'U  be  a  trial?"  inquired  Sam. 

'*  To  see  you  married,  Sammy — to  see  you  a  dilluded  wictim,  and 
thinkin*  in  your  innocence  that  it's  all  wery  capital,"  replied  Mr.  Wel- 
ler.  "  It's  a  dreadful  trial  to  a  father's  feelin's,  that  'ere,  Sammy." 

**  Nonsense,"  said  Sam.  ''  I  ain't  a  goin*  to  get  married,  don't  you 
fret  yourself  about  that ;  I  know  you're  a  judge  o'  these  things.  Order 
in  your  pipe,  and  I'll  read  you  the  letter — there." 

We  cannot  distinctly  say  whether  it  was  the  prospect  of  the  pipe,  or 
the  consolatory  reflection  that  a  fatal  disposition  to  get  married  ran  in 
the  family  and  couldn't  be  helped,  which  calmed  Mr.  Weller's  feelings, 
and  caused  his  grief  to  subside.  We  should  be  rather  disposed  to  say 
that  the  result  was  attained  by  combining  the  two  sources  of  consola- 
tion, for  he  repeated  the  second  in  a  low  tone,  very  frequently  ;  ringing 
the  bell  meanwhile,  to  order  in  the  first.  He  then  divested  himself  of 
his  upper  coat ;  and  lighting  the  pipe  and  placing  himself  in  front  of 
the  fire  with  his  back  towards  it,  so  that  he  could  feel  its  full  heat,  and 


il 


I 


C-'^ 


/9" 


aoA'  J/ 3 


■* 


THE    PICWK.ICK   CLUB.  343 

recline  against  the  mantel-piece  at  the  same  time,  turned  towards  Sara, 
and,  with  a  countenance  greatly  mollified  by  the  softening  induence  of 
tobacco,  requested  hira  to  "  fire  away." 

Sam  dipped  his  pen  into  the  ink  to  be  ready  for  any  corrections, 
and  began  with  a  very  theatrical  air — 

"'Lovely "' 

*'  Stop,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  ringing  the  bell.  "  A  double  glass  o'  the 
inwariable,  my  dear." 

"  Very  well.  Sir,"  replied  the  girl ;  who  with  great  quickness  appeared, 
vanished,  returned,  and  disappeared. 

''  They  seem  to  know  your  ways  here,"  observed  Sam. 

'^  Yes,"  replied  his  father,  "  I've  been  here  before,  in  my  time.      Go 
on,  Sammy." 
__     "  '  Lovely  creetur,' "  repeated  Sam. 
H^   **  'Tain't  in  poetry,  is  it  ?"  interposed  the  father, 
^k  *'  No  no,"  replied  Sam. 

^H  <f  Werry  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  Poetry's  unnat'ral;  no  man 
^^irer  talked  in  poetry  'cept  a  beadle  on  boxin'  day,  or  Warren's  blackin' 
!  or  Rowland's  oil,  or  some  o'  them  low  fello\Y§ ;  never  you  let  yourself 
down  to  talk  poetry,  my  boy.     Begin  again,  Sammy." 

Mr.  Weller  resumed  his  pipe  with  critical  solemnity,  and  Sam  once 
more  commenced,  and  read  as  follows. 

"  'Lovely  creetur  i  feel  myself  a  dammed  ' — ." 

*'  That  ain't  proper,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  taking  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth. 

"  No ;  it  aint  dammed,"  observed  Sam,  holding  the  letter  up  to  the 
light,  "  it's  '  shamed,*  there's  a  blot  there  —  '  I  feel  myself  ashamed. 

"  Wery  good,"  said  Mr.  Weller.     "  Go  on." 

"  *  Feel  myself  ashamed,  and  completely  cir — '  I  forget  wot  this 
here  word  is,"  said  Sam,  scratching  his  head  with  the  pen,  in  vain 
attempts  to  remember. 

"  Why  don't  you  look  at  it,  then  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"  So  I  am  a  lookin'  at  it,"  replied  Sam,  "  but  there's  another  blot : 
here's  a  'c,*  and  a   'i,**  and  a  'd.'" 

"  Circumwented,  p'raps,"  suggested  Mr.  Weller. 

"  No  it  ain't  that,"  said  Sam,  *'  circumscribed,  that's  it." 

*'  That  ain't  as  »good  a  word  as  circumwented,  Sammy,"  said  Mr. 
Weller  gravely. 

''Think  not?"  said  Sam. 

"  Nothin'  like  it,"   replied  his  father. 

"  But  don't  you  think  it  means  more  ?  "    inquired  Sam. 

"  Veil  p'raps  it  is  a  more  tenderer  word,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  after  a  few 
moments'  reflection.     "  Go  on,  Sammy." 

"  '  Feel  myself  ashamed  and  completely  circumscribed  in  a  dressin' 
of  you,  for  you  are  a  nice  gal  and  nothin'  but  it.'  " 

"  That's  a  wery  pretty  sentiment,"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  remov- 
ing his  pipe  to  make  way  for  the  remark. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is  rayther  good,"  observed  Sam,  highly  flattered. 

'*  Wot  I    like  in  that  'ere   style  of  writin',"    said   the    elder    M'' 


844  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Weller,  *'  is,  that  there  ain*t  no  callin'  names  in  it, — no  Wenuses,  nor 
nothin'  o'  that  kind ;  wot's  the  good  o*  callin'  a  young  'ooman  a  Wenus 
or  a  angel,  Sammy?" 

"  Ah!  what,  indeed?"  replied  Sam. 

'<  You  might  jist  as  veil  call  her  a  griffin,  or  a  unicorn,  or  a  king's 
arms  at  once,  which  is  wery  veil  known  to  be  a  col-lection  o*  fabulous 
animals,"  added  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Just  as  well,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Drive  on,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

Sam  complied  with  the  request,  and  proceeded  as  follows  ;  his  father 
continuing  to  smoke,  with  a  mixed  expression  of  wisdom  and  compla- 
cency, which  was  particularly  edifying. 

"  '  Afore  I  see  you  I  thought  all  women  was  alike.'  "  JL 

"  So  they  are,"  observed  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  parenthetically.  m 

"  *  But  now,'  continued  Sam,  '  now  I  find  what  a  reg'lar  soft-headed, 
ink-red'lous  turnip  I  must  ha'  been  for  there  ain't  nobody  like  you 
though  /like  you  better  than  nothin'  at  all.'  I  thought  it  best  to 
make  that  rayther  strong,"  said  Sam,  looking  up. 

Mr.  Weller  nodded  approvingly,  and  Sam  resumed. 

"  '  So  I  take  the  privilidgeof  the  day,  Mary,  my  dear — as  the  gen'lem'n 
in  difficulties  did,  ven  he  valked  out  of  a  Sunday, — to  tell  you  that  the 
first  and  only  time  I  see  you  your  likeness  was  took  on  my  hart  in 
much  quicker  time  and  brighter  colours  than  ever  a  likeness  was  took 
by  the  profeel  macheen  (wich  p'r'aps  you  may  have  heerd  on  Mary 
my  dear)  altho  it  does  finish  a  portrait  and  put  the  frame  and  glass  on 
complete  with  a  hook  at  the  end  to  hang  it  up  by  and  all  in  two 
minutes  and  a  quarter.'  " 

"  I  am  afeerd  that  werges  on  the  poetical,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
dubiously. 

"  No  it  don't,"  replied  Sam,  reading  on  very  quickly,  to  avoid  con- 
testing the  point. 

''  *  Except  of  me  Mary  my  dear  as  your  walentine  and  think  over 
what  I've  said. — My  dear  Mary  I  will  now  conclude.'  That's  all,"  said 
Sam. 

"  That's  rayther  a  sudden  pull  up,  ain't  it,  Sammy?"  inquired  Mr. 
Weller. 

"  Not  a  bit  on  it,"  said  Sam  ;  *^  shellvish  there  wos  more,  and  that's 
the  great  art  o'  letter  writin'." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "  there's  somethin'  in  that ;  and  I  wish 
your  mother-in-law  'ud  only  conduct  her  conwersation  on  the  same 
gen-teel  principle.     Ain't  you  a  goin'  to  sign  it  ?" 

*'  That's  the  difficulty,"  said  Sam  ;  "  I  don't  know  what  to  sign  it." 

"  Sign  it — Veller,"  said  the  oldest  surviving  proprietor  of  that 
name. 

"  Won't  do,"  said  Sam.  "  Never  sign  a  walentine  with  your  own 
name."  lj 

*'  Sign  it  '  Pickvick,'  then,"  said  Mr.  Weller ;  "  it's  a  wery  gooflt 
name,  and  a  easy  one  to  spell." 


i 

v4 


THE    PICKWICK  CLUB.  345 

«  The  wery  thing,"  said  Sam.  *'  I  could  end  with  a  werse  ;  what  do 
you  think  ?" 

"  I  don't  like  it,  Sam,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.    "  I  never  know'd   a 
respectable  coachman  as  wrote  poetry,  'cept  one,  us  made  an  affectin' 
copy  o'  werses  the  night  afore  he  wos  hung  for  a  highway  robbery 
and  he  wos  only  a  Cambervell  man,  so  even  that's  no  rule." 

But  Sara  was  not  to  be  dissuaded  from  the  poetical  idea  that  had 
occurred  to  him,  so  he  signed  the  letter — 

*'  Your  love-sick 
Pickwick." 

And  having  folded  it,  in  a  very  intricate  manner,  squeezed  a  down-hill 
direction  in  one  corner :  "  To  Mary,  Housemaid,  at  Mr.  Nupkins's 
Mayor's,  Ipswich,  Suffolk  " ;  and  put  it  into  his  pocket,  wafered,  and 
ready  for  the  General  Post.  This  important  business  having  been 
transacted,  Mr.  Weller  the  elder  proceeded  to  open  that,  on  which  he 
had  summoned  his  son. 

"  The  first  matter  relates  to  your  governor,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Wel- 
ler.    "  He's  a  goin'  to  be  tried  to-morrow,  ain't  he?  " 

**  The  trials  a  comin'  on,"  replied  Sam. 

«  Veil,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  «  Now  I  s'pose  he'll  want  to  call  some 
witnesses  to  speak  to  his  character,  or  p'raps  to  prove  a  alley  bi.  I've  been  a 
turnin  the  bus'ness  over  in  my  mind,  and  he  may  make  his-self  easy 
Sammy.  I've  got  some  friends  as'll  do  either  for  him,  but  my  adwice 
'ud  be  this  here — never  mind  the  character,  and  stick  to  the  alleybi. 
Nothing  like  a  alleybi,  Sammy,  nothing."  Mr.  Weller  looked  very 
profound  as  he  delivered  this  legal  opinion  ;  and  burying  his  nose  in 
his  tumbler,  winked  over  the  top  thereof,  at  his  astonished  son. 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  said^  Sam  ;  "  you  don't  think  he's  a 
goin'  to  be  tried  at  the  Old  Bailey,  do  you  ?  " 

"  That  ain't  no  part  of  the  present  con-sideration,  Sammy,"  replied 
Mr.  Weller.  **  Verever  he's  a  goin'  to  be  tried,  my  boy,  a  alleybi's 
the  thing  to  get  him  off.  Ve  got  Tom  Vildspark  off  that  'ere  man- 
slaughter, with  a  alleybi,  ven  all  the  big  vigs  to  a  man  said  as  nothing 
couldn't  save  him.  And  my  'pinion  is,  Sammy,  that  if  your  governor 
don't  prove  a  alleybi,  he'll  be  what  the  Italians  call  reg'larly  flummoxed, 
and  that's  all  about  it." 

As  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  entertained  a  firm  and  unalterable  conviction 
that  the  Old  Barley  was  the  supreme  court  of  judicature  in  this  country, 
and  that  its  rules  and  forms  of  proceeding  regulated  and  controlled  the 
practice  of  all  other  courts  of  justice  whatsoever,  he  totally  disregarded 
the  assurances  and  arguments  of  his  son,  tending  to  show  that  the  alibi 
was  inadmissible  ;  and  vehemently  protested  that  Mr.  Pickwick  was 
heing  "  wictimised."  Finding  that  it  was  of  no  use  to  discuss  the 
matter  further,  Sam  changed  the  subject,  and  inquired  what  the  second 
topic  was,  on  which  his  revered  parent  wished  to  consult  him. 

"  That's  a  pint  o'  domestic  policy,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 
"  This  here  Stiggins — " 

"  Red-nosed  man  ?"  inquired  Sam. 


346  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 

"  The  wery  same,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "  This  here  red-nosed  man, 
Sammy,  wisits  your  mother-in-law  vith  a  kindness  and  constancy  as  I 
never  see  equalled.  He's  sitch  a  friend  o'  the  family,  Sammy,  that  ven 
he's  avay  from  us,  he  can't  be  comfortable  unless  he  has  somethin'  to 
remember  us  by." 

"  And  I'd  give  him  somethin'  as  'ud  turpentine  and  bees'-vax  his 
memory  for  the  next  ten  years  or  so,  if  I  wos  you,"  interposed  Sam. 

"  Stop  a  minute,"  said  Mr.  Weller;  "  I  wos  a  goin  to  say,  he  always 
brings  now,  a  flat  bottle  as  holds  about  a  pint  and  ahalf,  and  fills  it  vith 
the  pine-apple  rum  afore  he  goes  avay." 

"  And  empties  it  afore  he  comes  back,  I  s'pose,"  said  Sam. 

"  Clean  I"  replied  Mr.  Weller  ;  "  never  leaves  nothin'  in  it  but  the 
cork  and  the  smell:  trust  him  for  that,  Sammy.  Now  these  here 
fellows,  ray  boy,  are  a  goin',  to-night,  to  get  up  the  monthly  meetin' 
o*  the  Brick  Lane  Branch  o'  the  United  Grand  Junction  Ebenezer 
Temperance  Association.  Your  mother-in-law  wos  a  goin',  Sammy, 
but  she's  got  the  rheumatics,  and  can't ;  and  I,  Sammy, — I've  got  the 
two  tickets  as  wos  sent  her."  Mr.  Weller  communicated  this  secret 
with  great  glee,  and  winked  so  indefatigably  after  doing  so,  that  Sam 
began  to  think  he  must  have  got  the  tic  dolouretix  in  his  right  eye-lid. 

"  Well  ?"  said  that  young  gentleman. 

"  Well,"  continued  his  progenitor,  looking  round  him  very  cautiously, 
*'  you  and  I'll  go,  punctiwal  to  the  time.  The  deputy  shepherd  won't, 
Sammy  ;  the  deputy  sheph'erd  won't."  Here  Mr.  Weller  was  seized 
with  a  paroxysm  of  chuckles,  which  gradually  terminated  in  as  near  an 
approach  to  a  choke,  as  an  elderly  gentleman  can,  with  safety,  sustain. 

"  Well,  I  never  see  sitch  an  old  ghost  in  all  my  born  days,"  exclaimed 
Sam,  rubbing  the  old  gentleman's  back,  hard  enough  to  set  him  on  fire 
with  the  friction.     •«  What  are  you  a  laughin*  at,  corpilence  ?" 

"  Hush  !  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  WfeUer,  looking  round  him  with  increased 
caution,  and  speaking  in  a  whisper  :  "  Two  friends  o'  mine,  as  works 
on  the  Oxford  Road,  and  is  up  to  all  kinds  o'  games,  has  got  the  deputy 
shepherd  safe  in  tow,  Sammy ;  and  ven  he  does  come  to  the  Ebenezer 
Junction,  (vich  he's  sure  to  do  :  for  they'll  see  him  to  the  door,  and 
shove  him  in  if  necessary)  he'll  be  as  far  gone  in  rum  and  water,  as 
ever  he  wos  at  the  Markis  o'  Granby,  Dorkin',  and  that's  not  sayin'  a  little 
either  "  And  with  this,  Mr.  Weller  once  more  laughed  immoderately, 
and  once  more  relapsed  into  a  state  of  partial  suffocation,  in  con- 
sequence. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  in  accordance  with  Sam  Weller's 
feeh'ngs,  than  the  projected  exposure  of  the  real  propensities  and 
qualities  of  the  red-nosed  man;  and  it  being  very  near  the  appointed 
hour  of  meeting,  the  father  and  son  took  the  way  at  once  to  Brick 
Lane  :  Sam  not  forgetting  to  drop  his  letter  into  a  general  post-office 
as  they  walked  along. 

The  monthly  meetings  of  the  Brick  Lane  Branch  of  the  United 
Grand  Junction  Ebenezer  Temperance  Association,  were  held  in  a 
large  room,  pleasantly  and  airily  situated  at  the  top  of  a  safe  and  com- 
modious ladder.     The  president  was  the  straight-walking  Mr.  Anthony 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  347 

Hiimm,  a  converted  fireman,  now  a  schoolmaster,  and  occasionally  an 
itinerant  preacher  ;  and  the  secretary  was  Mr.  Jonas  Mudge,  chandler's 
shop-keeper,  an  enthusiastic  and  disinterested  vessel,  who  sold  tea  to 
the  members.  Previous  to  the  commencement  of  business,  the  ladies 
sat  upon  forms,  and  drank  tea,  till  such  time  as  they  considered  it 
expedient  to  leave  off ;  and  a  large  wooden  money-box  was  conspi- 
cuously placed  upon  the  green  baize  cloth  of  the  business  table,  be- 
hind which  the  secretary  stood,  and  acknowledged,  with  a  gracious 
smile,  every  addition  to  the  rich  vein  of  copper  which  lay  concealed 
within. 

On  this  particular  occasion  the  women  drank  tea  to  a  most  alarming 
extent  ;  greatly  to  the  horror  of  Mr.  Weller  senior,  who,  utterly  regard- 
less of  all  Sam's  admonitory  nudgings,  stared  about  him  in  every  direc- 
tion with  the  most  undisguised  astonishment. 

*'  Sammy,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller,  "  if  some  o'  these  here  people 
don't  want  tappin'  to-morrow  mornin',  I  ain't  your  father,  and  that's 
wot  it  is.  Why,  this  here  old  lady  next  me  is  a  drownin'  herself 
in  tea." 

'*  Be  quiet,  can't  you  ?"  murmured  Sara. 

*'  Sam,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller,  a  moment  afterwards,  in  a  tone  of 
deep  agitation,  "  mark  my  vords,  my  boy  :  if  that  'ere  secretary  feller 
keeps  on  for  only  five  minutes  more,  he'll  blow  himself  up  with  toast 
and  water." 

"  Well,  let  him,  if  he  likes,"  replied  Sa'm ;  '^  it  ain't  no  bis'ness  o' 
yourn." 

"  If  this  here  lasts  much  longer,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  the 
same  low  voice,  "  I  shall  feel  it  my  duty,  as  a  human  bein',  to  rise  and 
address  the  cheer.  There's  a  young  'oman  on  the  next  form  but  two, 
as  has  drank  nine  breakfast  cups  and  a  half;  and  she's  a  swellin'  wisibly 
before  my  wery  eyes." 

There  is  little  doubt  that  Mr.  Weller  would  have  carried  his  bene- 
volent intention  into  immediate  execution,  if  a  great  noise,  occasioned 
by  putting  up  the  cups  and  saucers,  had  not  very  fortunately  announced 
that  the  tea-drinking  was  over.  TTie  crockery  having  been  removed, 
the  table  with  the  green  baize  cover  was  carried  out  into  the  centre  of 
the  room,  and  the  business  of  the  evening  was  commenced  by  a  little 
emphatic  man,  with  a  bald  head,  and  drab  shorts,  who  suddenly  rushed 
up  tne  ladder,  at  the  imminent  peril  of  snapping  the  two  little  legs 
encased  in  the  drab  shorts,  and  said : 

'*  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  move  our  excellent  brother,  Mr.  Anthony 
Humm,  into  the  chair." 

The  ladies  waved  a  choice  collection  of  pocket-handkerchiefs  at  this 
proposition ;  and  the  impetuous  little  man  literally  moved  Mr.  Humm 
into  the  chair,  by  taking  him  by  the  shoulders  and  thrusting  him  into  a 
mahogany  frame  which  had  once  represented  that  article  of  furniture. 
The  waving  of  handkerchiefs  was  renewed  ;  and  Mr.  Humm,  who  was 
a  sleek,  white-faced  man,  in  a  perpetual  perspiration,  bowed  meekly,  to 
the  great  admiration  of  the  females,  and  formally  took  his  seat. 
Silence  was  then  proclaimed  by  the  little  man  in  the  drab  shorts,  and 
Mr.  Humm  rose  and  said — That,  with   the  permission   of  his   Brick 


348  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Lane  Branch  brothers  and  sisters,  then  and  there  present,  the  secretary- 
would  read  the  report  of  the  Brick  Lane  Branch  committee  ; — a  propo- 
sition which  was  ag-ain  received  with  a  demonstration  of  pocket-hand- 
kerchiefs. 

The  secretary  having-  sneezed  in  a  very  impressive  manner,  and  the 
cough  which  always  seizes  an  assembly,  when  anything  particular  is 
going  to  be  done,  having  been  duly  performed,  the  following  document 
was  read : 


"  REPORT  OF  THE  COMMITTEE  OF  THE  BRICK  LANE  BRANCH  OF  THE 
UNITED  GRAND  JUNCTION  EBENEZER  TEMPERANCE  ASSOCIATION. 

*'  Your  committee  have  pursued  their  grateful  labours  during  the 
past  month,  and  have  the  unspeakable  pleasure  of  reporting  the  follow- 
ing additional  cases  of  converts  to  Temperance. 

"  H.  Walker,  tailor,  wife,  and  two  children.  When  in  better  cir- 
cumstances, owns  to  having  been  in  the  constant  habit  of  drinking  ale 
and  beer  ;  says  he  is  not  certain  whether  he  did  not  twice  a  week,  for 
twenty  years,  taste  *  dog's  nose,*  which  your  committee  find  upon 
inquiry,  to  be  compounded  of  warm  porter,  moist  sugar,  gin,  and 
nutmeg  (a  groan,  and  <  So  it  is  !'  from  an  elderly  female).  Is  now  out 
of  work  and  pennyless ;  thinks  it  must  be  the  porter  (cheers)  or  the 
loss  of  the  use  of  his  right  hand  ;  is  not  certain  which,  but  thinks  it 
very  likely  that,  if  he  had  drank  nothing  but  water  all  his  life,  his  fellow 
workman  would  never  have  stuck  a  rusty  needle  in  him,  and  thereby 
occasioned  his  accident  (tremendous  cheering).  Has  nothing  but  cold 
water  to  drink,  and  never  feels  thirsty  (great  applause). 

*'  Betsy  Martin,  widow,  one  child,  and  one  eye.  Goes  out  charing 
and  washing,  by  the  day ;  never  had  more  than  one  eye,  but  knows  her 
mother  drank  bottled  stout,  and  shouldn't  wonder  if  that  caused  it 
(immense  cheering).  Thinks  it  not  impossible  that  if  she  had  always 
abstained  from  spirits,  she  might  have  had  two  eyes  by  this  time 
(tremendous  applause).  Used,  at  every  place  she  went  to,  to  have 
eighteen  pence  a  day,  a  pint  of  porter,  and  a  glass  of  spirits  ;  but  since 
she  became  a  member  of  the  Brick  Lane  Branch,  has  always  demanded 
three  and  sixpence  instead  (the  announcement  of  this  most  interesting 
fact  was  received  with  deafening  enthusiasm). 

"  Henry  Beller  was  for  many  years  toast-master  at  various  corpora- 
tion dinners,  during  which  time  he  drank  a  great  deal  of  foreign  wine; 
may  sometimes  have  carried  a  bottle  or  two  home  with  him ;  is  not 
quite  certain  of  that,  but  is  sure  if  he  did,  that  he  drank  the  contents. 
Feels  very  low  and  melancholy,  is  very  feverish,  and  has  a  constant 
thirst  upon  him  ;  thinks  it  must  be  the  wine  he  used  to  drink  (cheers). 
Is  out  of  employ  now ;  and  never  touches  a  drop  of  foreign  wine  by  any 
chance  (tremendous  plaudits). 

"  Thomas  Burton  is  purveyor  of  cat's-meat  to  the  Lord  Mayor  and 
Sheriffs,  and  several  members  of  the  Common  Council  (the  announce- 
ment of  this  gentleman's  name  was  received  with  breathless  interest). 
Has  a  wooden  leg ;  finds  a  wooden  leg  expensive  going  over  the  stones ; 
used  to  wear  second-hand  wooden  legs,  and  drink  a  glass  of  hot  gin  and 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB  849 

water  regularly  every  night — sometimes  two  (deep  sighs).  Found  the 
second-hand  wooden  leg^  split  and  rot  very  quickly  ;  is  firmly  per- 
suaded that  their  constitution  was  undermined  by  the  gin  and  water 
(prolonged  cheering).  Buys  new  wooden  legs  now,  and  drinks  nothing 
but  water  and  weak  tea.  The  new  legs  last  twice  as  long  as  the  others 
used  to  do,  and  he  attributes  this  solely  to  his  temperate  habits  (tri- 
umphant cheers)." 

Anthony  Humm  now  moved  that  the  assembly  do  regale  itself 
with  a  song.  With  a  view  to  their  rational  and  moral  enjoy- 
ment, brother  Mordlin  had  adapted  the  beautiful  words  of  "Who 
hasn't  heard  of  a  Jolly  Young  Waterman?"  to  the  tune  of  the  Old  Hun- 
dredth, which  he  would  request  them  to  join  him  in  singing  (great 
applause).  He  might  take  that  opportunity  of  expressing  his  firm, 
persuasion  that  the  late  Mr.  Dibdin,  seeing  the  errors  of  his  former 
life,  had  written  that  song  to  show  the  advantages  of  abstinence.  It 
was  a  Temperance  song  (whirlwinds  of  cheers).  The  neatness  of  the 
interesting  young  man's  attire,  the  dexterity  of  his  feathering,  the 
enviable  state  of  mind  which  enabled  him,  in  the  beautiful  words  of  the 
poet,  to 

"  Row  along,  thinking  of  nothing  at  all," 

all  combined  to  prove  that  he  must  have  been  a  water-drinker  (cheers). 
Oh.  what  a  state  of  virtuous  jollity  !  (rapturous  cheering.)  And  what 
was  the  young  man's  reward  ?     Let  all  young  men  present  mark  this : 

"  The  maidens  all  flock'd  to  his  boat  so  readily." 

(Loud  cheers,  in  which  the  ladies  joined.)  What  a  bright  example ! 
The  sisterhood,  the  maidens,  flocking  round  the  young  waterman,  and 
urging  him  along  the  path  of  duty  and  of  temperance.  But,  was  it  the 
maidens  of  humble  life  only,  who  soothed,  consoled,  and  supported 
him  ?     No  ! 

"  He  was  always  fij^t  oars  with  the  fine  city  ladies." 

(Immense  cheering).  The  soft  sex  to  a  man — he  begged  pardon, 
to  a  female — rallied  round  the  young  waterman,  and  turned  with  disgust 
from  the  drinker  of  spirits  (cheers).  The  Brick  Lane  Branch  brothers 
were  watermen  (cheers  and  laughter).  That  room  was  their  boat;  that 
audience  were  the  maidens  ;  and  he  (Mr.  Anthony  Humm),  however 
unworthily,  was  *^  firstoars  "  (unbounded  applause). 

"Wot  does  he  mean  by  the  soft  sex,  Sammy?"  inquired  Mr. 
Weller,  in  a  whisper. 

"  The  womin,"  said  Sam,  in  the  same  tone. 

"  He  ain't  far  out  there,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller ;  "  they  must 
be  a  soft  sex, — a  wery  soft  sex,  indeed,  if  they  let  themselves  be  gam- 
moned by  such  fellers  as  him." 

Any  further  observations  from  the  indignant  old  gentleman  were  cut 
short  by  the  commencement  of  the  song,  which  Mr.  Anthony  Humm 
gave  out,  two  lines  at  ^  time,  for  the  information  of  such  of  his  hearers 


350  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

as  were  unacquainted  with  the  legend.  While  it  was  being  sung,  the  little 
man  with  the  drab  shorts  disappeared ;  he  returned  immediately  on  its 
conclusion,  and  whispered  Mr.  Anthony  Humm,  with  a  face  of  the 
deepest  importance. 

"  My  friends,"  said  Mr.  Humm,  holding  up  his  hand  in  a  depre- 
catory manner,  to  bespeak  the  silence  of  such  of  the  stout  old  ladies  as 
were  yet  a  line  or  two  behind ;  "  my  friends,  a  delegate  from  the  Dork- 
ing branch  of  our  society.  Brother  Stiggins,  attends  below." 

Out  came  the  pocket-handkerchiefs  again,  in  greater  force  than  ever, 
for  Mr.  Stiggins  was  excessively  popular  among  the  female  consti- 
tuency of  Brick  Lane. 

"  He  may  approach,  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Humm,  looking  round  him, 
with  a  fat  smile.  "  Brother  Tadger,  let,  him  come  forth  and  greet  us." 
The  little  man  in  the  drab  shorts  who  answered  to  the  name  of 
Brother  Tadger,  bustled  down  the  ladder  with  great  speed,  and  was 
immediately  afterwards  heard  tumbling  up  with  the  reverend  Mr. 
Stiggins. 

"  He's  a  comin',  Sammy,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller,  purple  in  the 
countenance  with  suppressed  laughter. 

"  Don't  say  nothin'  to  me,"  replied  Sam,  "  for  I  can't  bear  it. 
He's  close  to  the  door.  1  hear  him  a-knockin'  his  head  again  the  lath 
and  plaster  now." 

As  Sam  Weller  spoke,  the  little  door  flew  open,  and  brother  Tadger 
appeared,  closely  followed  by  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins,  who  no  sooner 
entered,  then  there  was  a  great  clapping  of  hands,  and  stamping  of  feet, 
and  flourishing  of  handkerchiefs  ;  to  all  of  which  manifestations  of 
delight,  Brother  Stiggins  returned  no  other  acknowledgment  than 
staring  with  a  wild  eye,  and  a  fixed  smile,  at  the  extreme  top  of  the 
wick  of  the  candle  on  the  table :  swaying  his  body  to  and  fro,  mean- 
while, in  a  very  unsteady  and  uncertain  manner. 

*^  Are  you  unwell,  brother  Stiggins  ? "  whispered  Mr.  Anthony 
Humm. 

"  I  am  all  right.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Stiggins,  in  a  tone  in  which 
ferocity  was  blended  with  an  extreme  thickness  of  utterance  ;  "  I  am 
all  right,  Sir." 

'^  Oh,  ver}'  well,"  rejoined  Mr.  Anthony  Humm,  retreating  a  few 
paces. 

"  I  believe  no  man  here,  has  ventured  to  say  that  I  am  not  all  right. 
Sir,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins. 

"  Oh,  certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Humm. 

"  r  should  advise  him  not  to.  Sir ;  I  should  advise  him  not,"  said  Mr. 
Stiggins. 

Bv  this  time  the  audience  were  perfectly  silent,  and  waited  with  some 
anxiety  for  the  resumption  of  business. 

'•'  Will  you  address  the  meeting,  brother  ?"  said  Mr.  Humm,  with  a 
smile  of  invitation. 

"  No,  Sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Stiggins  ;  "  No  Sir.    I  will  not,  Sir." 
The    meeting   looked  at    each    other  with    raised    eye-hds,    ami  a 
murmur  of  astonishment  ran  through  the  room. 


I 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  851 

"  It's  my  opinion,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  unbuttoning  his  coat,  and 
speaking  very  loudly  ;  ''  it's  my  opinion.  Sir,  that  this  meeting  is 
drunk,  Sir.  Brother  Tadger,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  suddenly  in- 
creasing in  ferocity,  and  turning  sharp  round  on  the  little  man  in  the 
drab  shorts,  "  you  are  drunk.  Sir."  With  this,  Mr.  Stiggins,  entertain- 
ing a  praiseworthy  desire  to  promote  the  sobriety  of  the  meeting,  and 
to  exclude  therefrom  all  improper  characters,  hit  brother  Tadger  on  the 
summit  of  the  nose  with  such  unerring  aim,  that  the  drab  shorts  disap- 
peared like  a  flash  of  lightning.  Brother  Tadger  had  been  knocked, 
head  first,  down  the  ladder. 

Upon  this,  the  women  set  up  a  loud  and  dismal  screaming  ;  and 
rushing  in  small  parties  before  their  favourite  brol*ners.  Hung  their 
arms  round  them  to  preserve  them  from  danger.  An  instance  of  affec- 
tion, which  had  nearly  proved  fatal  to  Humm,  who,  being  extremely 
popular,  was  all  but  suffocated  by  the  crowd  of  female  devotees  that 
hung  about  his  neck,  and  heaped  caresses  upon  him  ;  the  greater 
part  of  the  lights  were  quickly  put  out,  and  nothing  but  noise  and  con- 
fusion resounded  on  all  sides. 

"  Now  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  taking  off  his  great  coat  with  much 
deliberation,  "just  you  step  out,  and  fetch  in  a  watchman." 

"  And  wot  are  you  a  goin*  to  do,  the  while  ?"  inquired  Sam. 

''  Never  you  mind  me,  Sammy,"  replied  the  old  gentleman  ;  "  I  shall 
ockipy  myself  in  havin'  a  small  settlement  with  that  'ere  Stiggins." 
And  before  Sam  could  interfere  to  prevent  it,  his  heroic  parent  had 
penetrated  into  a  remote  corner  of  the  room,  and  attacked  the  reverend 
Mr.  Stiggins  with  manual  dexterity. 

"  Come  off,"  said  Sam. 

"  Come  on,"  cried  Mr.  Weller  ;  and  without  further  invitation  he 
gave  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins  a  preliminary  tap  on  the  head,  and 
began  dancing  round  him  in  a  buoyant  and  cork -like  manner,  which  in 
a  gentleman  at  his  time  of  life  was  a  perfect  marvel  to  behold. 

Finding  all  remonstrances  unavailing,  Sam  pulled  his  hat  firmly  on, 
threw  his  father's  coat  over  his  arm,  and  taking  the  old  man  round  the 
waist,  forcibly  dragged  him  down  the  ladder,  and  into  the  street ;  never 
releasing  his  hold,  or  permitting  him  to  stop,  until  they  reached  the 
corner.  As  they  gained  it,  they  could  hear  the  shouts  of  the  populace, 
who  were  witnessing  the  removal  of  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins  to  strong 
lodgings  for  the  night,  and  hear  the  noise  occasioned  by  the  dispersion 
in  various  directions  of  the  Members  of  the  Brick  Lane  Branch  of 
the  United  Grand  Junction  Ebenezer  Temperance  Association. 


352  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

IS   WHOLLY   DEVOTED    TO  A  FULL   AND    FAITHFUL  REPORT  OF    THE 
MEMORABLE    TRIAL    OF    BARDELL    AGAINST    PICKWICK. 

"  I  wonder  what  the  foreman  of  the  jury,  whoever  he'll  he,  has  got 
for  hreakfast,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  by  way  of  keeping  np  a  conver- 
sation on  the  eventful  morning  of  the  fourteenth  of  February. 

"  Ah  1*'  said  Perker,  "  I  hope  he's  got  a  good  one." 

"  Why  so  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick, 

"  Highly  important — very  important,  my  dear  Sir/'  replied  Perker. 
*' A  good,  contented,  well-breakfasted  juryman,  is  a  capital  thing  to  get 
hold  of.  Discontented  or  hungry  jurymen,  my  dear  Sir,  always  find  for 
the  plaintiff." 

"  Bless  my  heart,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  very  blank  ;  "  what 
do  they  do  that  for  ? ' 

*'  Why,  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  little  man,  coolly  ;  "  saves  time, 
I  suppose.  If  it's  near  dinner-time,  the  foreman  takes  out  his  watch 
when  the  jury  have  retired,  and  says,  *  Dear  me,  gentlemen,  ten  minutes 
to  five,  I  declare  I  I  dine  at  five,  gentlemen.'  « So  do  1,'  says  every 
body  else,  except  two  men  who  ought  to  have  dined  at  three,  and  seem 
more  than  half  disposed  to  stand  out  in  consequence.  The  foreman 
smiles,  and  puts  up  his  watch  : — *  Well,  gentlemen,  what  do  we  say  ? — 
plaintiff  or  defendant,  gentlemen  ?  I  rather  think,  so  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned, gentlemen, — I  say?  I  rather  think, — but  don't  let  that  influence 
you — I  rather  think  the  plaintiff's  the  man.'  Upon  this,  two  or  three 
other  men  are  sure  to  say  that  they  think  so  too — as  of  course  they  do ; 
and  then  they  get  on  very  unanimously  and  comfortably.  Ten  minutes 
past  nine ! "  said  the  little  man,  looking  at  his  watch.  "  Time  we 
were  off,  my  dear  Sir ;  breach  of  promise  trial — court  is  generally  full 
in  such  cases.  You  had  better  ring  for  a  coach,  my  dear  Sir,  or  we 
shall  be  rather  late." 

Mr.  Pickwick  immediately  rang  the  bell,  and  a  coach  having  been 
procured,  the  four  Pickwickians  and  Mr.  Perker  ensconced  themselves 
therein,  and  drove  to  Guildhall ;  Sam  Weller,  Mr.  Lowten,  and  the 
blue  bag,  following  in  a  cab. 

"  Lowten,"  said  Perker,  when  they  reached  the  outer  hall  of  the 
court,  "  put  Mr.  Pickwick's  friends  in  the  students'  box ;  Mr.  Pickwick 
himself  had  better  sit  by  me.  This  way,  my  dear  Sir, — this  way  ; " 
and  taking  Mr.  Pickwick  by  the  coat-sleeve,  the  little  man  led  him  to 
the  low  seat  just  beneath  the  desks  of  the  King's  Counsel,  which  is 
constructed  for  the  convenience  of  attorneys,  who  from  that  spot  can 
whisper  into  the  ear  of  the  leading  counsel  in  the  case,  any  instructions 
that  may  be  necessary  during  the  progress  of  the  trial.  The  occupants 
of  this  seat  are  invisible  to  the  great  body  of  spectators,  inasm.uch  as 
they  sit  on  a  much  lower  level  than  either  the  barristers  or  the  audience, 
whose  seats  are  raised  above  the  floor.  Of  course  they  have  their  backs 
to  both,  and  their  faces  towards  the  judge. 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB.  853 

*<  That's  the  witness-box,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  pointing 
to  a  kind  of  pulpit,  with  a  brass  rail,  on  his  left  hand. 

"  That's  the  witness-box,  my  dear  Sir,"  replied  Perker,  disinterring 
a  quantity  of  papers  from  the  blue  bag,  which  Lowten  had  just  depo- 
sited at  his  feet< 

"  And  that,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  pointing  to  a  couple  of  enclosed 
seats  on  his  right,  *'  that's  where  the  jurymen  sit,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  The  identical  place,  my  dear  Sir,"  replied  Perker,  tapping  the  iid 
of  his  snuff-box. 

Mr.  Pickwick  stood  up  in  a  state  of  great  agitation,  and  took  a 
glance  at  the  court.  There  were  already  a  pretty  large  sprinkling  of 
spectators  in  the  gallery,  and  a  numerous  muster  of  gentlemen  in 
wigs  in  the  barristers'  seats,  who  presented,  as  a  body,  all  that  pleasing 
and  extensive  variety  of  nose  and  whisker  for  which  the  bar  of  England 
is  so  justly  celebrated.  Such  of  the  gentlemen  as  had  got  a  brief 
to  carry,  carried  it  in  as  conspicuous  a  manner  as  possible,  and 
occasionally  scratched  their  noses  therewith,  to  impress  the  fact 
more  strongly  on  the  observation  of  the  spectators.  Other  gentle- 
men, who  had  no  briefs  to  show,  carried  under  their  arms  goodly 
octavos,  with  a  red  label  behind,  and  that  under-done-pie-crust-coloured 
cover,  which  is  technically  known  as  "  law  calf."  Others,  who  had 
neither  briefs  nor  books,  thrust  their  hands  into  their  pockets,  and 
looked  as  wise  as  they  conveniently  could  ;  while  others,  again,  moved 
here  and  there  with  great  restlessness  and  earnestness  of  manner,  content 
to  awaken  thereby,  the  admiration  and  astonishment  of  the  uninitiated 
strangers.  The  whole,  to  the  great  wonderment  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  were 
divided  into  little  groups,  who  were  chatting  and  discussing  the  news 
of  the  day  in  the  most  unfeeling  manner  possible, — ^just  as  if  no  trial 
at  all  were  coming  on. 

A  bow  from  Mr.  Phunky,  as  he  entered,  and  took  his  seat  behind  the 
row  appropriated  to  the  King's  Counsel,  attracted  Mr.  Pickwick's 
attention ;  and  he  had  scarcely  returned  it,  when  Mr.  Sergeant 
Snubbin  appeared,  followed  by  Mr.  Mallard,  who  half  hid  the  Sergeant 
behind  a  large  crimson  bag,  which  he  placed  on  his  table,  and,  after 
shaking  hands  with  Perker,  withdrew.  Then  there  entered  two  or 
three  more  Sergeants,  and  among  them,  one  with  a  fat  body  and  a  red 
face,  who  nodded  in  a  friendly  manner  to  Mr.'  Sergeant  Snubbin,  and 
said  it  was  a  fine  morning. 

"  Who's  that  red-faced  man,  who  said  it  was  a  fine  morning,  and 
nodded  to  our  counsel  ?  "  whispered  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Mr.  Sergeant  Buzfuz,"  replied  Perker.  "  He's  opposed  to  us ; 
he  leads  on  the  other  side.  That  gentleman  behind  him,  is  Mr.  Skim- 
pin,  his  junior." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  just  on  the  point  of  inquiring,  with  great  abhorrence 
of  the  man's  cold-blooded  villainy,  how  Mr.  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  who  was 
counsel  for  the  opposite  party,  dared  to  presume  to  tell  Mr.  Sergeant 
Snubbin,  who  was  counsel  for  him,  that  it  was  a  fine  morning, — when 
he  was  interrupted  by  a  general  rising  of  the  barristers,  and  a  loud  cry 

C  Silence  ! "  from  the  officers  of  the   court.     Looking   round,   he 
d  that  this  was  caused  by  the  entrance  of  the  judge. 


S54  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh  (who  sat  in  the  absence  of  the  Chief  Justice, 
occasioned  by  indisposition,)  was  a  most  particularly  short  man,  and  so 
fat,  that  he  seemed  all  face  and  waistcoat.  He  rolled  in,  upon  two  little 
turned  legs,  and  having-  bobbed  gravely  to  the  bar,  who  bobbed  gravely 
to  him,  put  his  little  legs  underneath  his  table,  and  his  little  three- 
cornered  hat  upon  it ;  and  when  Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh  had  done  this, 
all  you  could  see  of  him  was  two  queer  little  eyes,  one  broad  pink  face, 
and  somewhere  about  half  of  a  big  and  very  comical-looking  wig. 

The  judge  had  no  sooner  taken  his  seat,  than  the  officer  on  the  floor 
of  the  court  called  out  "  Silence !  "  in  a  commanding  tone,  upon 
which  another  officer  in  the  gallery  cried  "  Silence !  "  in  an  angry 
manner,  whereupon  three  or  four  more  ushers  shouted  ''  Silence ! "  in 
a  voice  of  indignant  remonstrance.  This  being  done,  a  gentleman  in 
black,  who  sat  below  the  judge,  proceeded  to  call  over  the  names  of  the 
jury  ;  and  after  a  great  deal  of  bawling,  it  was  discovered  that  only  ten 
special  jurymen  were  present.  Upon  this,  Mr.  Sergeant  Buzfuz  prayed 
a  tales  ;  the  gentleman  in  black  then  proceeded  to  press  into  the  special 
jury  two  of  the  common  jurymen ;  and  a  green-grocer  and  a  chemist 
were  caught  directly. 

"  Answer  to  your  names,  gentlemen,  that  you  may  be  sworn,"  said 
the  gentleman  in  black.     "  Richard  Upwitch." 

"  Here,"  said  the  green-grocer. 

"  Thomas  Groffin." 

*'  Here,"  said  the  chemist. 

"  Take  the  book,  gentlemen.     You  shall  well  and  truly  try — " 

"  I  beg  this  court's  pardon,"  said  the  chemist,  who  was  a  tall,  thin, 
yellow-visaged  man,  *'  but  I  hope  this  court  will  excuse  my  attendance.* 

"  On  what  grounds,  Sir?"  said  Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh. 

"  I  have  no  assistant,  my  Lord,"  said  the  chemist. 

«« I  can't  help  that,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh.  "  You 
should  hire  one." 

"  I  can't  afford  it,  my  Lord,"  rejoined  the  chemist. 

"  Then  you  ought  to  be  able  to  afford  it.  Sir,"  said  the  Judge,  red- 
dening ;  for  Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh's  temper  bordered  on  the  irritable, 
and  brooked  not  contradiction. 

"  I  know  I  ought  to  do,  if  I  got  on  as  well  as  I  deserved,  but  I  don't, 
my  Lord,"  answered  the  chemist. 

*<  Swear  the  gentleman,"  said  the  Judge,  peremptorily. 

The  officer  had  got  no  further  than  the  "  You  shall  well  and  truly 
try,"  when  he  was  again  interrupted  by  the  chemist. 

"I  am  to  be  sworn,  my  Lord,  am  I?"  said  the  chemist. 

"  Certainly,  Sir,"  replied  the  testy  little  Judge. 

'•  Very  well,  my  Lord,"  replied  the  chemist  in  a  resigned  manner. 
"  Then  there'll  be  murder  before  this  trial's  over ;  that's  all.  Swear  me 
if  you  please,  Sir ;"  and  sworn  the  chemist  was,  before  the  Judge  could 
find  words  to  utter. 

"  I  merely  wanted  to  observe,  my  Lord,"  said  the  chemist,  taking  his 
seat  with  great  deliberation,  "  that  I've  left  nobody  but  an  errand-boy 
in  my  shop.  He  is  a  very  nice  boy,  my  Lord,  but  he  is  not  much  ac- 
quainted with  drugs ;  and  I  know  that  the  prevailing  impression  on  his 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  355 

mind  is,  that  Epsom  salts  means  oxalic  acid ;  and  syrup  of  senna,  lauda- 
num. That's  all,  my  Lord."  With  this,  the  tall  chemist  composed  him- 
self into  a  comfortable  attitude,  and,  assuming-  a  pleasant  expression  of 
countenance,  appeared  to  have  prepared  himself  for  the  worst. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  reg-ardinj^  the  chemist  with  feelings  of  the  deepest 
horror,  when  a  slight  sensation  was  perceptible  in  the  body  of  the  court; 
and  immediately  afterwards  Mr*.  Bardell,  supported  by  Mrs.  Cluppins, 
was  led  in,  and  placed,  in  a  drooping-  state,  at  the  other  end  of  the  seat 
on  which  Mr.  Pickwick  sat.  An  extra  sized  umbrella  was  then  handed 
in  by  Mr.  Dodson,  and  a  pair  of  pattens  by  Mr.  Fogg,  each  of  whom 
had  prepared  a  most  sympathising  and  melancholy  face  for  the  occasion. 
Mrs.  Sanders  then  appeared,  leading  in  Master  Bardell.  At  si^-ht  of 
her  child,  Mrs.  Bardell  started  ;  suddenly  recollecting  herself,  she  kissed 
him  in  a  frantic  manner;  and  then  relapsing  into  a  state  of  hysterical 
imbecility,  the  good  lady  requested  to  be  informed  where  she  was.  In 
reply  to  this,  Mrs.  Cluppins  and  Mrs.  Sanders  turned  their  heads  away 
and  wept,  while  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg  intreated  the  plaintiff  to 
compose  herself.  Sergeant  Buzfuz  rubbed  his  eyes  very  hard  with  a 
large  white  handkerchief,  and  gave  an  appealing  look  towards  the  jury, 
while  the  Judge  was  visibly  affected,  and  several  of  the  beholders  tried 
to  cough  down  their  emotions. 

"  Very  good  notion  that,  indeed,"  whispered  Perker  to  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"  Capital  fellows  those  Dodson  and  Fogg ;  excellent  ideas  of  effect,  my 
dear  Sir,  excellent." 

As  Perker  spoke,  Mrs.  Bardell  began  to  recover  by  slow  degrees, 
while  Mrs.  Cluppins,  after  a  careful  survey  of  Master  Bardell's  buttons 
and  the  button-holes  to  which  they  severally  belonged,  placed  him  on 
the  floor  of  the  court  in  front  of  his  mother, — a  commanding  position  in 
which  he  could  not  fail  to  awaken  the  full  commiseration  and  sympathy 
of  both  Judge  and  jury.  This  was  not  done  without  considerable  oppo- 
sition, and  many  tears  on  the  part  of  the  young  gentleman  himself,  who 
had  certain  inward  misgivings  that  the  placing  him  within  the  full  glare 
of  the  Judge's  eye  was  only  a  formal  prelude  to  his  being  immediately 
ordered  away  for  instant  execution,  or  for  transportation  beyond  the 
seas  during  the  whole  term  of  his  natural  life,  at  the  very  least. 

"  Bardell  and  Pickwick,"  cried  the  gentleman  in  black,  calling  on  the 
case,  which  stood  first  on  the  list. 

"  I  am  for  the  plaintiff,  my  Lord/'  said  Mr.  Sergeant  Buzfuz. 

"Who  is  with  you,  brother  Buzfuz?"  said  the  Judge.  Mr.  Skim- 
pin  bowed,  to  intimate  that  he  was. 

*'  I  appear  for  the  defendant,  my  Lord,"  said  Mr.  Sergeant  Snubbin. 

'*  Anybody  with  you,  brother  Snubbin  ?"  inquired  the  court. 

"Mr.  Phunky,  my  Lord,"  replied  Sergeant  Snubbin. 

"  Sergeant  Buzfuz  and  Mr.  Skimpin  for  the  plaintiff,"  said  the  Judge, 
writing  down  the  names  in  his  note-book,  and  reading  as  he  wrote; 
*'for  the  defendant.  Sergeant  Snubbin  and  Mr.  Monkey." 

"  Beg  your  Lordship's  pardon,  Phunky." 

"  Oh,  very  good,"  said  the  Judge  ;  "  I  never  had  the  pleasure  of  hear- 
ing the  gentleman's  name   before."     Here  Mr.  Phunky  bowed  and 

D  D 


356  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS    OF 

smiled,  and  the  Judge  bowed  and  smiled  too,  and  then  Mr.  Phunky,  | 
blushing-  into  the  very  whites  of  his  eyes,  tried  to  look  as  if  he  didn't  f 
know  that  everybody  was  gazing  at  him,  a  thing  which  no  man  ever 
succeeded  in  doing  yet,  and  in  all  reasonable  probability,  never  will. 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  judge. 
*  The  ushers  again  called  silence,  and  Mr.  Skimpin  proceeded  to  "  open 
the  case  ;  "  and  the  case  appeared  to  have  very  little  inside  it  when  he 
had  opened  it,  for  he  kept  such  particulars  as  he  knew,  completely  to  h 
himself,  and  sat  down,  after  a  lapse  of  three  minutes,  leaving  the  jury  | 
in  precisely  the  same  advanced  stage  of  wisdom  as  they  were  in  before.    ■; 

Sergeant  Buzfuz  then  rose  with  all  the  majesty  and  dignity  which  !■ 
the  grave  nature  of  the  proceedings  demanded,  and  having  whispered  to  . 
Dodson,  and  conferred  briefly  with  Fogg,  pulled  his  gown  over  his  }. 
shoulders,settled  his  wig,  and  addressed  the  jury.  < 

Sergeant  Buzfuz  began  by  saying,  that  never,  in  the  whole  course  } 
of  his  professional  experience — never,  from  the  very  first  moment  of  ; 
his  applying  himself  to  the  study  and  practice  of  the  law — had  he 
approached  a  case  with  feelings  of  such  deep  emotion,  or  with  such  a 
heavy  sense  of  the  responsibility  imposed  upon  him — a  responsibility, 
he  would  say,  which  he  could  never  have  supported,  were  he  not  buoyed 
up  and  sustained  by  a  conviction  so  strong,  that  it  amounted  to  posi- 
tive certainty  that  the  cause  of  truth  and  justice,  or,  in  other  words,  the 
cause  of  his  much-injured  and  most  oppressed  client,  must  prevail  with 
the  high-minded  and  intelligent  dozen  of  men  whom  he  now  saw  in 
that  box  before  him. 

Counsel  always  begin  in  this  way,  because  it  puts  the  jury  on  the 
very  best  terms  with  themselves,  and  makes  them  think  what  sharp 
fellows  they   must  be.     A  visible  effect  was   produced  immediately 
several  jurymen  beginning  to  take  voluminous  notes  with  the  utmost 
eagerness. 

"  You  have  heard  from  my  learned  friend,  gentlemen  " — continued 
Sergeant  Buzfuz,  well  knowing  that,  from  the  learned  friend  alluded 
to,  the  gentlemen  of  the  jury  had  heard  just  nothing  at  all — ^'  you 
have  heard  from  my  learned  friend,  gentlemen,  that  this  is  an  action 
for  a  breach  of  promise  of  marriage,  in  which  the  damages  are  laid  at 
1500/.  But  you  have  not  heard  from  my  learned  friend,  inasmuch  as 
it  did  not  come  within  my  learned  friend's  province  to  tell  you,  what 
are  the  facts  and  circumstances  of  the  case.  Those  facts  and  circum- 
stances, gentlemen,  you  shall  hear  detailed  by  me,  and  proved  by  the 
unimpeachable  female  whom  I  will  place  in  that  box  before  you." 

Here  Mr.  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  with  a  tremendous  emphasis  on  the 
word  "box,"  smote  his  table  with  a  mighty  sound,  and  glanced  at 
Dodson  and  Fogg,  who  nodded  admiration  of  the  sergeant,  and  indig- 
nant defiance  of  the  defendant. 

"  The  plaintiff,  gentlemen,"  continued  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  in  a  soft 
and  melancholy  voice,  "  the  plaintiff  is  a  widow ;  yes,  gentlemen,  a 
widow.  The  late  Mr.  Bardell,  after  enjoying,  for  many  years,  the 
esteem  and  confidence  of  his  sovereign,  as  one  of  the  guardians  of  his 
royal  revenues,  glided  almost   imperceptibly  from  the  world,  to  seel^ 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  857 

elsewhere  for  that  repose  and  peace  which  a  custom-house  can  never 
aiiord." 

At  this  pathetic  description  of  the  decease  of  Mr.  Bardell,  who  had 
been  knocked  on  the  head  with  a  quart-pot  in  a  public-house  cellar, 
the  learned  sergeant's  voice  faltered,  and  he  proceeded  with  great 
emotion — 

"  Some  time  before  his  death,  he  had  stamped  his  likeness  upon  a 
little  boy.  With  this  little  boy,  the  only  pledge  of  her  departed  excise- 
man, Mrs.  Bardell  shrunk  from  the  world,  and  courted  the  retirement 
and  tranquillity  of  Goswell-street ;  and  here  she  placed  in  her  front 
parlour-window  a  written  placard,  bearing  this  inscription — *  Apart- 
ments furnished  for  a  single  gentleman.  Enquire  within.'"  Here 
Sergeant  Buzfuz  paused,  while  several  gentlemen  of  the  jury  took  a 
note  of  the  document. 

"  There  is  no  date  to  that,  is  there,  Sir  ?  "  enquired  a  juror. 

"  There  is  no  date,  gentlemen,"  replied  Sergeant  Buzfuz ;  "  but  I  am 
instructed  to  say  that  it  was  put  in  the  plaintiff's  parlour-window  just 
this  time  three  years.  I  entreat  the  attention  of  the  jury  to  the  word- 
ing of  this  document — '  Apartments  furnished  for  a  single  gentleman  I  * 
Mrs.  Bardell's  opinions  of  the  opposite  sex,  gentlemen,  were  derived 
from  a  long  contemplation  of  the  inestimable  qualities  of  her  lost  hus- 
band. She  had  no  fear — she  had  no  distrust — she  had  no  suspicion — 
all  was  confidence  and  reliance.  *  Mr.  Bardell,*  said  the  widow ;  *  Mr. 
Bardell  was  a  man  of  honour — Mr.  Bardell  was  a  man  of  his  word — 
Mr.  Bardell  was  no  deceiver — Mr.  Bardell  was  once  a  single  gentleman 
himself ;  to  single  gentlemen  I  look  for  protection,  for  assistance,  for 
comfort,  and  for  consolation — in  single  gentlemen  I  shall  perpetually 
see  something  to  remind  me  of  what  Mr.  Bardell  was,  when  he  first  won 
my  young  and  untried  affections ;  to  a  single  gentleman,  then,  shall 
my  lodgings  be  let.'  Actuated  by  this  beautiful  and  touching  im- 
pulse, (among  the  best  impulses  of  our  imperfect  nature,  gentlemen,) 
the  lonely  and  desolate  widow  dried  her  tears,  furnished  her  first  floor, 
caught  her  innocent  boy  to  her  maternal  bosom,  and  put  the  bill  up  in 
her  parlour  window.  Did  it  remain  there  long  ?  No.  The  serpent 
was  on  the  watch,  the  train  was  laid,  the  mine  was  preparing,  the  sap- 
per and  miner  was  at  work.  Before  the  bill  had  been  in  the  parJour- 
window  three  days — three  days,  gentlemen — a  being,  erect  upon  two 
legs,  and  bearing  all  the  outward  semblance  of  a  man,  and  not  of  a 
monster,  knocked  at  the  door  of  Mrs.  Bardell's  house.  He  enquired 
within ;  he  took  the  lodgings ;  and  on  the  very  next  day  he  entered 
into  possession  of  them.  This  man  was  Pickwick — Pickwick,  the 
defendant." 

Sergeant  Buzfuz,  who  had  proceeded  with  such  volubility  that  his 
face  was  perfectly  crimson,  here  paused  for  breath.  The  silence  awoke 
Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh,  who  immediately  wrote  down  something  with  a 
pen  without  any  ink  in  it,  and  looked  unusually  profound,  to  impress 
the  jury  with  the  belief  that  he  always  thought  most  deeply  with  his 
eyes  shut.     Sergeant  Buzfuz  proceeded. 

"  Of  this  man  Pickwick  I  will  say  little ;  the  subject  presents   but 

D  D  2 


358  POSTHUxMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


1 


few  attractions  ;  and  I,  gentlemen,  am  not  the  man,  nor  are  you,  g-entle- 
men,  the  men,  to  delight  in  the  contemplation  of  revolting  heartless- 
ness,  and  of  systematic  villany." 

Here  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been  writhing  in  silence  for  some  time, 
gave  a  violent  start,  as  if  some  vague  idea  of  assaulting  Sergeant  Buzfuz, 
in  the  august  presence  of  justice  and  law,  suggested  itself  to  his  mind. 
An  admonitory  gesture  from  Perker  restrained  him,  and  he  listened  to 
the  learned  gentleman's  continuation  with  a  look  of  indignation,  which 
contrasted  forcibly  with  the  admiring  faces  of  Mrs.  Cluppins  and  Mrs. 
Sanders. 

"  I  say  systematic  villany,  gentlemen,"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  looking 
through  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  talking  at  him  ;  "  and  when  I  say  systematic 
villany,  let  me  tell  the  defendant,  Pickwick,  if  he  be  in  court,  as  I  am 
informed  he  is,  that  it  would  have  been  more  decent  in  him,  more  be- 
coming, in  better  judgment  and  in  better  taste,  if  he  had  stopped  away. 
Let  me  tell  him,  gentlemen,  that  any  gestures  of  dissent  or  disapproba- 
tion in  which  he  may  indulge  in  this  court  will  not  go  down  with  you ; 
that  you  will  know  how  to  value  and  how  to  appreciate  them ;  and  let 
me  tell  him  further,  as  my  lord  W'ill  tell  you,  gentlemen,  that  a  counsel, 
in  the  discharge  of  his  duty  to  his  client,  is  neither  to  be  intimidated 
nor  bullied,  nor  put  down  ;  and  that  any  attempt  to  do  either  the  one 
or  the  other,  or  the  first,  or  the  last,  will  recoil  on  the  head  of  the 
attempter,  be  he  plaintiff  or  be  he  defendant,  be  his  name  Pickwick,  or 
Noakes,  or  Stoakes,  or  Stiles,  or  Brown,  or  Thompson." 

This  little  divergence  from  the  subject  in  hand,  had  of  course  the  in- 
tended effect  of  turning  all  eyes  to  Mr.  Pickwick.  Sergeant  Buzfuz, 
haying  partially  recovered  from  the  state  of  moral  elevation  into  which 
he  had  lashed  himself,  resumed — 

"  I  shall  show  you,  gentlemen,  that  for  two  years  Pickwick  conti- 
nued to  reside  constantly,  and  without  interruption  or  intermission,  at 
Mrs.  Bardell's  house.  I  shall  show  you  that  Mrs.  Bardell,  during  the 
whole  of  that  time,  waited  on  him,  attended  to  his  comforts,  cooked  his 
nieals,  looked  out  his  linen  for  the  washerwoman  when  it  went  abroad, 
darned,  aired,  and  prepared  it  for  wear,  when  it  came  home,  and,  in  short, 
enjoyed  his  fullest  trust  and  confidence.  I  shall  show  you  that,  on 
many  occasions,  he  gave  halfpence,  and  on  some  occasions  even  six- 
pences, to  her  little  boy  ;  and  I  shall  prove  to  you,  by  a  witness  whose 
testimony  it  will  be  impossible  for  my  learned  friend  to  weaken  or 
controvert,  that  on  one  occasion  he  patted  the  boy  on  the  head,  and, 
after  enquiring  whether  he  had  won  any  alley  tors  or  commoneys 
lately  (both  of  which  I  understand  to  be  a  particular  species  of  marbles 
much  prized  by  the  youth  of  this  town),  made  use  of  this  remarkable 
expression — 'How  should  you  like  to  have  another  father ?  '  I  shall 
prove  to  you  farther,  gentlemen,  that  about  a  year  ago,  Pickwick  sud- 
denly began  to  absent  himself  from  home,  during  long  intervals,  as  if 
with  the  intention  of  gradually  breaking  ofl'  from  ray  client ;  but  I  shall 
show  you  also,  that  his  resolution  was  not  at  that  time  sufficiently 
strong,  or  that  his  better  feelings  conquered,  if  better  feelings  he  (^ 
has — or  that  the  charms  and  accomplishments  of  my  client  prevailed  .V 


1 


f 


m^-  -W 


^.y,-    J.'. 


w 


1 


I 


i 


\ 


^ 


I 


^ 


THE    I'ICKVVICK    CLUB.  359 

over  his  unmanly  intentions,  by  proving-  to  you,  that,  on  one 
occasion,  when  he  returned  from  the  country,  he  distinctly  and  in 
terms,  offered  her  marriage  :  previously  however,  taking  special  care 
that  there  should  be  no  witnesses  to  their  solemn  contract ;  and  I  am  in 
a  situation  to  prove  to  you,  on  the  testimony  of  three  of  his  own  friends, 
— most  unwilling-  witnesses,  gentlemen — most  unwilling  witnesses — 
that  on  that  morning  he  was  discovered  by  them  holding  the  plaintiff 
in  his  arms,  and  soothing  her  agitation  by  his  caresses  and  endear- 
ments." 

A  visible  impression  was  produced  upon  the  auditors  by  this  part 
of  the  learned  sergeant's  address.  Drawing  forth  two  very  small  scraps 
of  paper,  he  proceeded — 

"  And  now,  gentlemen,  but  one  word  more.  Two  letters  have  passed 
between  these  parties,  letters  which  are  admitted  to  be  in  the  hand- 
writing of  the  defendant,  and  which  speak  volumes  indeed.  These  let- 
ters, too,  bespeak  the  character  of  the  man.  They  are  not  open,  fer- 
vent, eloquent  epistles,  breathing  nothing  but  the  language  of  affec- 
tionate attachment.  They  are  covert,  sly,  underhanded  communications, 
but,  fortunately,  far  more  conclusive  than  if  couched  in  the  most  glow- 
ing language  and  the  most  poetic  imagery — letters  that  must  be  viewed 
with  a  cautious  and  suspicious  eye — letters  that  were  evidently  intended 
at  the  time,  by  Pickwick,  to  m.islead  and  delude  any  third  parties  mto 
whose  hands  they  might  fall.  Let  me  read  the  first : — *  Garraway's, 
twelve  o'clock. — Dear  Mrs.  B. — Chops  and  Toraata  sauce.  Yours, 
PiCKW^iCK.'  Gentlemen,  what  doey  this  mean  ?  Chops  and  Tomata 
sauce.  Yours,  Pickwick  !  Chops  !  Gracious  heavens !  and  Tomata 
sauce  I  Gentlemen,  is  the  happiness  of  a  sensitive  and  confiding  female 
to  be  trifled  away,  by  such  shallow  artifices  as  these  ?  The  next  has  no 
date  whatever,  which  is  in  itself  suspicious. — '  Dear  Mrs.  B.,  I  shall 
not  be  at  home  till  to-morrow.  Slow  coach.'  And  then  follows  this 
very  remarkable  expression — '  Dont  trouble  yourself  about  the  warming- 
pan.'  The  warming-pan  !  Why,  gentlemen,  who  does  trouble  himself 
about  a  warming-pan  ?  When  was  the  peace  of  mind  of  man  or  woman 
broken  or  disturbed  by  a  warming-pan,  which  is  in  itself  a  harmless,  a 
useful,  and  I  will  add,  gentlemen,  a  comforting  article  of  domestic  furni- 
ture ?  Why  is  JMrs.  Bardell  so  earnestly  entreated  not  to  agitate  her- 
self about  this  warming-pan,  unless  (as  is  no  doubt  the  case)  it  is  a  mere 
cover  for  hidden  fire — a  mere  substitute  for  some  endearing  word  or  pro- 
mise, agreably  to  a  preconcerted  system  of  correspondence,  artiully 
contrived  by  Pickwick  with  a  view  to  his  comtemplated  desertion,  and 
which  I  am  not  in  a  condition  to  explain  ?  And  what  does  this  allusion 
to  the  slow  coach  mean  ?  For  aught  I  know,  it  may  be  a  reference  to 
Pickwick  himself,  who  has  most  unquestionably  been  a  criminally  slow 
coach  during  the  whole  of  this  transaction,  but  whose  speed  will  now 
be  veiy  unexpectedly  accelerated,  and  whose  wheels,  gentlemen,  as  he 
will  find  to  his  cost,  will  very  soon  be  greased  by  you !  " 

Mr.  Sergeant  Buzfuz  paused  in  this  place,  to  see  whether  the  jury 
smiled  at  his  joke ;  biit  as  nobody  took  it  but  the  green  grocer,  whose 
sensitiveness  on  the  subject  was  very  probably  occasioned  by  his  having 


iJ60  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

subjected  a  chaise-cart  to  the  process  in  question  on  that  identical  morn- 
iug,  the  learned  sergeant  considered  it  advisable  to  underg-o  a  slight  re*- 
lapse  into  the  dismals  before  he  concluded. 

"  But  enough  of  this,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  '<  it  is 
difficult  to  smile  with  an  aching-  heart ;  it  is  ill  jesting  when  our 
deepest  sympathies  are  awakened.  My  client's  hopes  and  prospects  are 
ruined,  and  it  is  no  figure  of  speech  to  say  that  her  occupation  is  gone 
indeed.  The  bill  is  down — but  there  is  no  tenant.  Eligible  single 
gentlemen  pass  and  repass — but  there  is  no  invitation  for  them  to 
enquire  within,  or  without.  All  is  gloom  and  silence  in  the  house ; 
even  the  voice  of  the  child  is  hushed ;  his  infant  sports  are  disregarded 
when  his  mother  weeps  ;  his  '  alley  tors  '  and  his  '  commoneys  '  are 
alike  neglected ;  he  forgets  the  long  familiar  cry  of  '  knuckle  down,' 
and  at  tip-cheese,  or  odd  and  even,  his  hand  is  out.  But  Pickwick, 
gentlemen,  Pickwick,  the  ruthless  destroyer  of  this  domestic  oasis  in 
the  desert  of  Goswell-street — Pickwick,  who  has  choaked  up  the  well, 
and  thrown  ashes  on  the  sward — Pickwick,  who  comes  before  you  to- 
day with  his  heartless  tomata  sauce  and  warming  pans  —  Pickwick 
still  rears  his  head  with  unblushing  effrontery,  and  gazes  without  a 
sigh  on  the  ruin  he  has  made.  Damages,  gentlemen — heavy  damages 
is  the  only  punishment  with  which  you  can  visit  him  ;  the  only  recom- 
pence  you  can  award  to  my  client.  And  for  those  damages  she  now 
appeals  to  an  enlightened,  a  high-minded,  a  right-feeling,  a  conscientious, 
a  dispassionate,  a  sympathising,  a  contemplative  jury  of  her  civilized 
countrymen."  With  this  beautiful  peroration,  Mr.  Serjeant  Buzfuz 
sat  down,  and  Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh  woke  up. 

"  Call  Elizabeth  Cluppins,"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  rising  a  minute 
afterwards,  with  renewed  vigour. 

The  nearest  usher  called  for  Elizabeth  Tuppins  ;  another  one,  at  a 
little  distance  off,  demanded  Elizabeth  Jupkins  ;  and  a  third  rushed  in  a 
breathless  state  into  King-street,  and  screamed  for  Ehzabeth  Muffins 
till  he  was  hoarse.  * 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Cluppins,  with  the  combined  assistance  of  Mrs. 
Bardell,  Mrs.  Sanders,  Mr.  Dodson,  and  Mr.  Fogg,  was  hoisted  into  the 
witness-box ;  and  when  she  was  safely  perched  on  the  top  step,  Mrs. 
Bardell  stood  on  the  bottom  one,  with  the  pocket-handkerchief  and 
pattens  in  one  hand,  and  a  glass  bottle  that  might  hold  about  a  quarter 
of  a  pint  of  smelling  salts  in  the  other,  ready  for  any  emergency.  Mrs. 
Sanders,  whose  eyes  were  intently  fixed  on  the  judge's  face,  planted 
herself  close  by,  with  the  large  umbrella:  keeping  her  right  thumb 
pressed  on  the  spring  with  an  earnest  countenance,  as  if  she  were  fully 
prepared  to  put  it  up  at  a  moment's  notice. 

"  Mrs.  Cluppins,"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz,    "  pray  compose  yourself, 
ma'am ; "  and,  of  course,  directly  Mrs.  Cluppins  was  desired  to  compose 
herself  she  sobbed  with  increased  vehemence,  and  gave  divers  alarming 
manifestations  of  an  approaching  fainting  fit,  or,  as  she  afterwards  said,  . 
of  her  feelings  being  too  many  for  her.  * 

"  Do  you  recollect,  Mrs.  Cluppins  ?  "  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  after  a 
few  unimportant  questions — «  do  you  recollect  being  in  Mrs,  Bardell'* 


THE   PICKWICK    club'.  361 

back  one  pair  of  stairs,  on  one  particular  morning  in  July  last,  when 
she  was  dusting  Mr.  Pickwick's  apartment  ?" 

*♦  Yes,  my  Lord  and  Jury,  I  do,"  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

*'Mr.  Pickwick's  sitting-room  was  the  first-floor  front,  I  beliere? 

"  Yes,  it  were.  Sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

"What  were  you  doing  in  the  backroom,  ma'am?"  inquired  the 
little  Judge. 

*'  My  Lord  and  Jury,"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  with  interesting  agitation, 
"  I  will  not  deceive  you." 

"  You  had  better  not,  ma'am,"  said  the  little  Judge. 

"  I  was  there,"  resumed  Mrs.  Cluppins,  "  unbeknown  to  Mrs.  BardeJl ; 
I  had  been  out  with  a  little  basket,  gentlemen,  to  buy  three  pound  of 
red  kidney  pertaties,  which  was  three  pound  tuppense  ha'penny,  when 
I  see  Mrs.  Bardell's  street  door  on  the  jar." 

"  On  the  what  ?  exclaimed  the  little  Judge. 

"  Partly  open,  my  lord,"  said  Sergeant  Snubbin. 

"  She  said  on  the  jar,"  said  the  little  Judge,  with  a  cunning  look. 

"  It's  all  the  same,  my  lord,"  said  Sergeant  Snubbin.  The  little 
Judge  looked  doubtful,  and  said  he'd  make  a  note  of  it.  Mrs.  Cluppins 
then  resumed— 

"  I  walked  in,  gentlemen,  just  to  say  good  mornin',  and  went  in  a 
permiscuous  manner  up  stairs,  and  into  the  back  room.  Gentlemen, 
there  was  the  sound  of  voices  in  the  front  room,  and — " 

*•'  And  you  listened,  I  believe,  Mrs.  Cluppins,"  said  Sergeant  Bazfuz. 

'*  Beggin*  your  pardon,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins,  in  a  majestic 
manner,  "  I  would  scorn  the  haction.  The  voices  was  very  loud,  sir, 
and  forced  themselves  upon  my  ear." 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Cluppins,  you  were  not  listening,  but  you  heard  the 
voices.     Was  one  of  tho^e  voices  Mr.  Pickwick's  ? 

"  Yes,  it  were,  sir." 

And  Mrs.  Cluppins,  after  distinctly  stating  that  Mi*.  Pickwick  ad- 
dressed himself  to  Mrs.  Bardell,  repeated  by  slow  degrees,  and  by  dint 
of  many  questions,  the  conversation  with  which  our  readers  are  already 
acquainted. 

The  Jury  looked  suspicious,  and  Mr.  Sergeant  Buzfuz  smiled  and  sat 
down.  They  looked  positively  awful  when  Sergeant  Snubbin  intimated 
that  he  should  not  cross-examine  the  witness,  for  Mr.  Pickwick  wished 
it  to  be  distinctly  stated  that  it  was  due  to  her  to  say,  that  her  account 
was  in  substance  correct. 

Mrs.  Cluppins  having  once  broken  the  ice,  thought  it  a  very 
favourable  opportunity  of  entering  into  a  short  dissertation  on  her  own 
domestic  affairs  ;  so  she  straightway  proceeded  to  inform  the  court  that 
she  was  the  mother  of  eight  children  at  that  present  speaking,  and  that 
she  entertained  confident  expectations  of  presenting  Mr.  Cluppins  with 
a  ninth,  somewhere  about  that  day  six  months.  At  this  interesting 
point,  the  little  judge  interposed  most  irascibly ;  and  the  eftect  of  the 
interposition  was,  that  both  the  worthy  lady  and  Mrs.  Sanders  were 
politely  taken  out  of  court,  under  the  escort  of  Mr.  Jackson,  without 
further  parley. 


362  FOSTHUiMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Nathaniel  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Skirapin. 

"  Here  !  "  replied  a  feeble  voice.  And  Mr.  Winkle  entered  the 
witness-box,  and  having  been  duly  sworn,  bowed  to  the  judge  with 
considerable  deference. 

*'  Don't  look  at  me,  Sir,"  said  the  judge,  sharply,  in  acknowledg- 
ment  of  the  salute ;  *'  look  at  the  jury." 

Mr.  Winkle  obeyed  the  mandate,  and  looked  at  the  place  where  he 
thought  it  most  probable  the  jury  might  be  ;  for  seeing  anything  in  his 
then  state  of  intellectual  complication  was  wholly  out  of  the  question. 

Mr.  Winkle  was  then  examined  by  Mr.  Skimpin,  who,  being  a  pro- 
mising young  man  of  two  or  three  and  forty,  was  of  course  anxious  to 
confuse  a  witness  who  was  notoriously  predisposed  in  favour  of  the 
other  side,  as  much  as  he  could. 

<'  Now,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Skimpin,  "  have  the  goodness  to  let  his  Lord- 
ship and  the  jury  know  what  your  name  is,  will  you?"  And  Mr. 
Skimpin  inclined  his  head  on  one  side  to  listen  with  great  sharpness  to 
the  answer,  and  glanced  at  the  jury  meanwhile,  as  if  to  imply  that  he 
rather  expected  Mr.  Winkle's  natural  taste  for  perjury  would  induce 
him  to  give  some  name  which  did  not  belong  to  him. 

"  Winkle,"  replied  the  witness. 

"  What's   your    Christian   name,  Sir  ?  "    angrily  inquired  the  little 

"  Nathaniel,  Sir." 

"  Daniel, — anv  other  name  ?  " 

"  Nathaniel,  Sir — my  Lord,  I  mean." 

"  Nathaniel  Daniel,  or  Daniel  Nathaniel?  " 

*«  No,  my  Lord,  only  Nathaniel — not  Daniel  at  all." 

*'  W^hat  did  you  tell  me  it  was  Daniel  for,  then,  Sir?"  inquired 
the  judge. 

"I  didn't,  my  Lord, "  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  You  did,  Sir,"  replied  the  judge,  with  a  severe  frown.  "  How 
could  I  have  got  Daniel  on  my  notes,  unless  you  told  me  so,  Sir  ?  " 

This  argument  was,  of  course,  unanswerable. 

"  Mr.  Winkle  has  rather  a  short  memory,  my  Lord,"  interposed  Mr. 
Skimpin,  with  another  glance  at  the  jury.  "  We  shall  find  means  to 
refresh  it  before  we  have  quite  done  with  him,  I  dare  say." 

"  You  had  better  be  careful,  Sir,"  said  the  little  judge,  with  a  sinister 
look  at  the  witness. 

Poor  Mr.  Winkle  bowed,  and  endeavoured  to  feign  an  easiness  of 
manner,  which,  in  his  then  state  of  confusion,  gave  him  rather  the  air  of 
a  disconcerted  pickpocket. 

*'  Now,  Mr.  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Skimpin,  "  attend  to  me,  if  you 
p.ease.  Sir  ;  and  let  me  recommend  you,  for  your  own  sake,  to  bear  in 
mind  his  Lordship's  injunctions  to  be  careful.  I  believe  you  are  a  par- 
ticular friend  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  the  defendant,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  have  known  Mr.  Pickwick  now,  as  well  as  I  recollect  at  this 
moment,  nearly — " 

''  Pray,  Mr.  Winkle,  do  not  evade  the  question.  Are  you,  or  are 
you  not,  a  particular  friend  of  the  defendant's  ?  " 


THE  PICKWICK   CLUB.  3G3 

*<  I  was  just  about  to  say,  that —  " 

"  Will  you,  or  will  you  not,  answer  my  question,  Sir?  " 

"  If  you  don't  answer  the  question,  you'll  be  committed,  Sir,"  inter- 
posed the  little  judge,  looking-  over  his  note-book. 

'*  Come,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Skimpin,  "  yes  or  no,  if  you  please." 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Yes,  you  are.  And  why  couldn't  you  say  that  at  once,  Sir? 
Perhaps  you  know  the  plaintiff  too — eh,  Mr.  Winkle  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  her;  I've  seen  her." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  her,  but  you've  seen  her  ?  Now,  have  the 
goodness  to  tell  the  gentlemen  of  the  jury  what  you  mean  by  that, 
Mr.  Winkle." 

"  I  mean  that  I  am  not  intimate  with  her,  but  that  I  have  seen  her 
when  I  went  to  call  on  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  Goswell-street." 

"  How  often  have  you  seen  her,  Sir  ?  " 

"  How  often  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  W^inkle,  how  often  ?  I'll  repeat  the  question  for  you  a 
dozen  times,  if  you  require  it,  Sir."  And  the  learned  gentleman,  with 
a  firm  and  steady  frown,  placed  his  hands  on  his  hips,  and  smiled  sus- 
piciously to  the  jury. 

On  this  question  there  arose  the  edifying  brow-beating,  customary 
on  such  points.  First  of  all.  Mr.  Winkle  said  it  was  quite  impossible 
for  him  to  say  how  many  times  he  had  seen  Mrs.  Bardell.  Then  he 
was  asked  if  he  had  seen  her  twenty  times,  to  which  he  replied,  "  Cer- 
tainly,— more  than  that."  And  then  he  was  asked  whether  he  hadn't 
seen  her  a  hundred  times — whether  he  couldn't  swear  that  he  had  seen 
her  more  than  fifty  times — whether  he  didn't  know  that  he  had  seen 
her  at  least  seventy-five  times,  and  so  forth  ;  the  satisfactory  conclusion 
which  was  arrived  at,  at  last,  being — that  he  had  better  take  care  of 
himself,  and  mind  what  he  was  about.  The  witness  having  been  by 
these  means  reduced  to  the  requisite  ebb  of  nervous  perplexity,  the 
examination  was  continued  as  follows — 

"  Pray,  Mr.  Winkle,  do  you  remember  calling  on  the  defendant  Pick- 
wick at  these  apartments  in  the  plaintiff's  house  in  Goswell-street,  on 
one  particular  morning,  in  the  month  of  July  last  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  Were  you  accompanied  on  that  occasion  by  a  friend  of  the  name  of 
Tupman,  and  another  of  the  name  of  Snodgrass  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  was  ?  " 

"  Are  they  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  are  "—replied  Mr.  Winkle,  looking  very  earnestly  towards 
the  spot  where  his  friends  were  stationed. 

"  Pray  attend  to  me,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  never  mind  your  friends" — 
said  Mr.  Skimpin,  with  another  expressive  look  at  the  jury.  ''  They 
must  tell  their  stories  without  any  previous  consultation  with  you,  if 
none  has  yet  taken  place  (another  look  at  the  jury).  Now,  Sir,  tell  the 
gentlemen  of  the  jury  what  you  saw  on  entering  the  defendant's  room, 
on  this  particular  morning.  Come;  out  with  it,  Sir;  we  must  have  it, 
•ooner  or  later." 


364  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  The  defendant,  Mr.  Pickwick,  was  holding  the  plaintiff  in  his  arms, 
with  his  hands  clasping  her  waist,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle  with  natural 
hesitation,  "  and  the  plaintiff  appeared  to  have  fainted  away." 

"  Did  you  hear  the  defendant  say  anything  ?" 

"  I  heard  him  call  Mrs.  Bardell  a  good  creature,  and  I  heard  him  ask 
her  to  compose  herself,  for  what  a  situation  it  was,  if  any  hody  should 
come,  or  words  to  that  effect." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Winkle,  I  have  only  one  more  question  to  ask  you,  and  I 
beg  you  to  bear  in  mind  his  lordship's  caution.  Will  you  undertake  to 
swear  that  Pickwick,  the  defendant,  did  not  say  on  the  occasion  in  ques- 
tion— *  My  dear  Mrs.  Bardell,  you're  a  good  creature ;  compose  your- 
self to  this  situation,  for  to  this  situation  you  must  come,  or  words  to 
that  effect  ?  '  " 

"  I — I  didn't  understand  him  so,  certainly,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  astounded 
at  this  ingenious  dove-tailing  of  the  few  words  he  had  heard.  '*  I  was 
on  the  staircase,  and  couldn't  hear  distinctly ;  the  impression  on  my 
mind  is — " 

"  The  gentlemen  of  the  jury  want  none  of  the  impressions  on 
vour  mind,  Mr.  Winkle,  which  I  fear  would  be  of  little  service  to 
honest,  straight-forward  men,"  interposed  Mr.  Skimpin.  "  You  were  on 
the  staircase,  and  didn't  distinctly  hear ;  but  you  will  not  swear  that 
Pickwick  did  not  make  use  of  the  expressions  I  have  quoted  ?  Do  I  un- 
derstand that  ?" 

"  No  I  will  not,"  replied  Mr.  W'inkle  ;  and  down  sat  Mr.  Skimpin 
with  a  triumphant  countenance. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  case  had  not  gone  off  in  so  particularly  happy  a  man- 
ner, up  to  this  point,  that  it  could  very  well  afford  to  have  any  addi- 
tional suspicion  cast  upon  it.  But  as  it  could  afford  to  be  placed  in  a 
rather  better  light,  if  possible,  Mr.  Phunky  rose  for  the  purpose  of 
getting  something  important  out  of  Mr.  Winkle  in  cross-examination^ 
Whether  he  did  get  anything  important  out  of  him,  will  immediately 
appear. 

"  I  believe,  Mr.  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Phunky,  "  that  Mr.  Pickwick  is 
not  a  young  man  ?" 

«  Oh  no,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle ;  "  old  enough  to  be  my  father  ?" 

*«  You  have  told  my  learned  friend  that  you  have  known  Mr.  Pick- 
wick a  long  time.  Had  you  ever  any  reason  to  suppose  or  believe  that 
he  was  about  to  be  married?" 

"  Oh  no ;  certainly  not ;"  replied  Mr.  Winkle  with  so  much  eagerness, 
that  Mr.  Phunky  ought  to  have  got  him  out  of  the  box  with  all  pos- 
sible dispatch.     Lawyers  hold  that  there  are  two  kinds  of  particularly 
bad  witnesses,  a  reluctant  witness,  and  a  too-wiLing  witness;  it  was' 
Mr.  Winkle's  fate  to  figure  in  both  characters. 

*'  I  will  even  go  further  than  this,  Mr.  Winkle,"  continued  Mr. I 
Phunky  in  a  most  smooth  and  complacent  manner.     "  Did  you  even 
see  any  thing  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  manner  and  conduct  towards  the  oppo-j 
site  sex  to  induce  you  to  believe  that  he  ever  contemplated  matrimony 
of  late  years,  in  any  case  ?" 

"  Oh  no ;  certainly  not,"  replied  Ivir  Winkle. 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB.  365 

"  Mas  his  behaviour,  when  females  have  been  in  the  case,  always  been 
that  of  a  man,  who,  havings  attained  a  pretty  advanced  period  of  life, 
content  with  his  own  occupations  and  amusements,  treats  them  only  as 
II  father  might  his  daughters?" 

"  Not  the  least  doubt  of  it,"  repHed  Mr.  Winkle,  in  the  fulness  of  his 
heart.     "  That  is — yes — oh  yes — certainly." 

'♦  You  have  never  known  any  thing  in  his  behaviour  towards  Mrs. 
Bardell,  or  any  other  female,  in  the  least  degree  suspicious  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Phunky,  preparing  to  sit  down,  for  Sergeant  Snubbin  was  winking  at 
him, 

"  N— n— no,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  «'  except  on  one  trifling  occasion, 
which,  I  have  no  doubt,  might  be  easily  explained." 

Now,  if  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Phunky  had  sat  down  when  Sergeant 
Snubbin  winked  at  him,  or  if  Sergeant  Buzfuz  had  stopped  this  irre- 
gular cross-examination  at  the  outset  (which  he  knew  better  than 
to  do  ;  observing  Mr.  Winkle's  anxiety,  and  well  knowing  it 
would,  in  all  probability,  lead  to  something  serviceable  to  him), 
this  unfortunate  admission  would  not  have  been  elicited.  The  mo- 
ment the  words  fell  from  Mr.  Winkle's  lips,  Mr.  Phunky  sat  down, 
and  Sergeant  Snubbin  rather  hastily  told  him  he  might  leave  the  box, 
which  Mr.  Winkle  prepared  to  do  with  great  readiness,  when  Sergeant 
Buzfuz  stopped  him. 

"  Stay,  Mr.  Wrinkle — stay,"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  "  will  your  lordship 
have  the  goodness  to  ask  him,  what  this  one  instance  of  suspicious 
behaviour  towards  females  on  the  part  of  this  gentleman,  who  is  old 
enough  to  be  his  father,  was  ?" 

"  You  hear  what  the  learned  counsel  says.  Sir,"  observed  the  judge, 
turning  to  the  miserable  and  agonized  Mr.  Winkle.  "  Describe  the 
occasion  to  which  you  refer." 

«  My  lord,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  trembling  with  anxiety,  "  I— I'd 
rather  not." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  the  little  judge  ;  "  but  you  must." 

Amid  the  profound  silence  of  the  whole  court,  Mr.  Winkle  faltered 
out,  that  the  trifling  circumstance  of  suspicion  was  Mr.  Pickwick's 
being  found  in  a  lady's  sleeping  apartment  at  midnight,  which  had  ter- 
minated, he  believed,  in  the  breaking  off  of  the  projected  marriage  of 
the  lady  in  question,  and  led,  he  knew,  to  the  whole  party  being 
forcibly  carried  before  George  Nupkins,  Esq.,  magistrate  and  justice 
of  the  peace,  for  the  borough  of  Ipswich  ?" 

"  Y'ou  may  leave  the  box.  Sir,"  said  Sergeant  Snubbin.  Mr.  Winkle 
did  leave  the  box,  and  rushed  with  delirious  haste  to  the  George  and 
Vulture,  where  he  was  discovered  some  hours  after,  by  the  waiter, 
groaning  in  a  hollow  and  dismal  manner,  with  his  head  buried  beneath 
the  sofa  cushions. 

Tracy  Tupman,  and  Augustus  Snodgrass,  were  severally  called  into 
the  box ;  both  corroborated  the  testimony  of  their  unhappy  friend  ; 
and  each  was  driven  to  the  verge  of  desperation  by  excessive 
badgering. 


866  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Susannah  Sanders  was  then  called,  and  examined  by  Sergeant  Buz- 
fuz,  and  cross-examined  by  Serg-eant  Snubbin.  Had  always  said  and 
believed  that  Mr.  Pickwick  would  marry  Mrs.  Bardell ;  knew  that  Mrs. 
Bardell's  being  engaged  to  Mr.  Pickwick  was  the  current  topic  of  con- 
versation in  the  neighbourhood,  after  the  fainting  in  July ;  had  been 
told  it  herself  by  Mrs.  Mudberry  which  kept  a  mangle,  and  Mrs.  Bun- 
kin  which  clear-starched,  but  did  not  see  either  Mrs.  Mudberry  or  Mrs. 
Bunkin  in  court.  Had  heard  Mr.  Pickwick  ask  the  little  boy  how  he 
should  like  to  have  another  father.  Did  not  know  that  Mrs.  Bardell  was 
at  that  time  keeping  company  with  the  baker,  but  did  know  that  the 
baker  was  then  a  single  man  and  is  now  married.  Couldn't  swear  that 
Mrs.  Bardell  was  not  very  fond  of  the  baker,  but  should  think  that 
the  baker  was  not  very  fond  of  Mrs.  Bardell,  or  he  wouldn't  have 
married  somebody  else.  Thought  Mrs.  Bardell  fainted  away  on  the 
morning  in  July,  because  Mr.  Pickwick  asked  her  to  name  the  day; 
knew  that  she  (witness)  fainted  away  stone  dead  when  Mr.  Sanders 
asked  her  to  name  the  day,  and  believed  that  every  body  as  called  her- 
self a  lady  vv^ould  do  the  same,  under  similar  circumstances.  Heard 
Mr.  Pickwick  ask  the  boy  the  question  about  the  marbles,  but  upon 
her  oath  did  not  know  the  difference  between  an  alley  tor  and  a 
commoney. 

By  the  Court — During  the  period  of  her  keeping  company  with 
Mr.  Sanders  had  received  love  letters,  like  other  ladies.  In  the  course 
of  their  correspondence  Mr.  Sanders  had  often  called  her  a  *'  duck  " 
but  never  "  chops  "  or  "  tomata  sauce."  He  was  particularly  fond  of 
ducks.  Perhaps  if  he  had  been  as  fond  of  chops  and  tomata  sauce, 
he  might  have  called  her  that,  as  a  term  of  affection. 

Sergeant  Buzfuz  now  rose  with  more  importance  than  he  had  yet 
exhibited,  if  that  were  possible,  and  vociferated  "  Call  Samuel  Weller." 

It  was  quite  unnecessary  to  call  Samuel  Weller,  for  Samuel  Weller 
stepped  briskly  into  the  box  the  instant  his  name  was  pronounced ;  and 
placing  his  hat  on  the  floor,  and  his  arms  on  the  rail,  took  a  bird's- 
eye  view  of  the  bar,  and  a  comprehensive  survey  of  the  bench  with  a 
remarkably  cheerful  and  lively  aspect. 

"What's  your  name.  Sir?  "  enquired  the  Judge. 

"  Sam  Weller,  my  Lord,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

"  Do  you  spell  it  with  a  '  V '  or  a  '^  W  ?  ' "  enquired  the  Judge. 

"  That  depends  upon  the  taste  and  fancy  of  the  speller,  ray  Lord,"  re- 
plied Sam,  "  I  never  had  occasion  to  spell  it  more  than  once  or  twice 
in  my  life,  but  I  spells  it  with  a  '  V. '" 

Here  a  voice  in  the  gallery  exclaimed  aloud,  "  Quite  right  too,  Sami- 
vel  ;  quite  right.     Put  it  down  a  we,  my  Lord,  put  it  down  a  we." 

"  Who  is  that,  that  dares  to  address  the  Court  ?  "  said  the  little  Judg^^ 
looking  up,  "  Usher." 

"  Yes,  my  Lord." 

"  Bring  that  person  here  instantly." 

"  Yes,  my  Lord." 

But  as  the  usher  didn't  find  the  person,  he  didn't  bring  him  ;   and, 


I 


THE  PICKWICK   CLUB.  367 


after  a  great  commotion,  all  the  people  who  had  got  up  to  look  for  the 
culprit,  sat  down  again.  The  little  Judge  turned  to  the  witness  as  soon 
as  his  indignation  would  allow  him  to  speak,  and  said — 

*'  Do  you  know  who  that  was,  Sir  ?  " 

"  I  rayther  suspect  it  was  my  father,  my  Lord,"  replied  Sara. 

''  Do  you  see  lym  here  now  ?"  said  the  Judge. 

"  No,  I  don't,  my  Lord,"  replied  Sam,  staring  right  up  into  the  lan- 
tern in  the  roof  of  the  Court. 

"If  you  could  have  pointed  him  out,  I  would  have  committed  him 
instantly,"  said  the  Judge.  [Sam  bowed  his  acknowledgments  and 
turned,  with  unimpaired  cheerfulness  of  countenance,  towards  Ser"-eant 
Buzfuz. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz 

"  Now,  Sir,"  replied  Sara. 

"  I  believe  you  are  in  the  service  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  the  defendant  in 
this  case.      Speak  up,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Weller." 

"I  mean  to  speak  up,  Sir,"  replied  Sam,  "  I  am  in  the  service  o'  that 
'ere  gen'l'man,  and  a  wery  good  service  it  is." 

"  Little  to  do,  and  plenty  to  get,  I  suppose  ?"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz, 
with  jocularity. 

"  Oh,  quite  enough  to  get.  Sir,  as  the  soldier  said  ven  they  ordered 
him  three  hundred  and  fifty  lashes,"  replied  Sam. 

"  You  must  not  tell  us  \vhat  the  soldier,  or  any  other  man,  said,  Sir," 
interposed  the  Judge,  "  it's  not  evidence." 

"  Wery  good,  my  Lord,"  replied  Sam. 

"Do  you  recollect  anything  particular  happening  on  the  morning 
when  you  were  first  engaged  by  the  defendant,  eh,  Mr.  Weller  ?"  said 
Sergeant  Buzfuz. 

"  Yes  I  do,  Sir,"  rejilied  Sam. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  tell  the  Jury  what  it  was." 
■    "  I  had  a  reg'lar  new  fit  out  o'  clothes  that  mornin',  gen'l'men  of  the 
jury,"  said   Sam,   "  and  that  was  a  wery  partickler  and  uncommon  cir- 
cumstance vith  me  in  those  days." 

Hereupon  there  was  a  general  laugh  ;  and  the  little  Judge,  looking 
with  an  angry  countenance  over  his  desk,  said,  "  You  had  better  be 
careful.  Sir." 

"  So  Mr.  Pickwick  said  at  the  time,  my  Lord,"  replied  Sam,  "  and  I 
was  wery  careful  o'  that  'ere  suit  o'  clothes  ;  wery  careful  indeed,  my 
Lord." 

The  Judge  looked  sternly  at  Sam  for  full  two  minutes,  but  Sam's 
features  were  so  perfectly  calm  and  serene  that  he  said  nothing,  and 
motioned  Sergeant  Buzfuz  to  proceed. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  fold- 
ing his  arms  emphatically,  and  turning  half  round  to  the  Jury,  as  if  in 
mute  assurance  that  he  would  bother  the  witness  yet — "  Do  you  mean 
to  tell  me,  Mr.  Weller,  that  you  saw  nothing  of  this  fainting  on  the 
part  of  the  plaintiff  in  the  arms  of  the  defendant,  which  you  have  heard 
described  by  the  witnesses  ?  " 


1 


368  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Sam,  '-  I  was  in  the  passage  'till  they  called 
me  up,  and  then  the  old  lady  was  not  there." 

"  Now,  attend,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  dipping-  a  large 
pen  into  the  inkstand  before  him,  for  the  purpose  of  frightening  Sam 
with  a  show  of  taking  down  his  answer.  "  You  were  in  the  passage 
and  yet  saw  nothing  of  what  was  going  forward.  Have  you  a  pair  of 
eyes,  Mr.  Weller?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  a  pair  of  eyes,"  replied  Sam,  "  and  that's  just  it.  If  they 
wos  a  pair  o'  patent  double  million  magnifyin'  gas  miscroscopes  of 
hextra  power,  p'raps  I  might  be  able  to  see  through  a  flight  o'  stairs  and 
a  deal  door ;  but  bein'  only  eyes  you  see,  my  wision's  limited." 

At  this  answer,  which  was  delivered  without  the  slightest  appearance 
of  irritation,  and  with  the  most  complete  simplicity  and  equanimity  of 
manner,  the  spectators  tittered,  the  little  Judge  smiled,  and  Sergeant 
Buzfuz  looked  particularly  foolish.  After  a  short  consultation  with 
Dodson  and  Fogg,  the  learned  Sergeant  again  turned  towards  Sam,  and 
said,  with  a  painful  effort  to  conceal  his  vexation, "  Now,  Mr.  Weller, 
I'll  ask  you  a  question  on  another  point,  if  you  please." 

"  If  you  please,  Sir,"  rejoined  Sam,  with  the  utmost  good-humour. 

"  Do  you  remember  going  up  to  Mrs.  Bardell's  house,  one  night  in 
November  last  T' 

"  Oh  yes,  wery  well." 

"  Oh,  you  do  remember  that,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz, 
recovering  his  spirits,   ''  I  thought  we  should  get  at  something  at  last.'" 

"  I  ray  ther  thought  that,  too,  Sir,"  replied  Sam  ;  and  at  this  the  spec- 
tators tittered  again. 

'<  Well ;  I  suppose  you  went  up  to  have  a  little  talk  about  this  tria. 
—  eh,  Mr.  Weller?"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  looking  knowingly  at  the  jury. 

"  I  went  u-p  to  pay  the  rent ;  but  we  did  get  a  talkin'  about  the  trial," 
replied  Sam. 

"  Oh  you  did  get  a  talking  about  the  trial,"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz,' 
brightening  up  with  the  anticipation  of  some  important  discovery. 
''  Now  what  passed  about  the  trial ;  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  tell 
us,  Mr.  Weller?" 

'-'  Vith  all  the  pleasure  in  life,  Sir,"  replied  Sam.  "  Arter  a  few 
unimportant  obserwations  from  the  two  wirtuous  females  as  has  been 
examined  here  to-day,  the  ladies  gets  into  a  very  great  state  o'  admi- 
ration at  the  honorable  conduct  of  Mr.  Dodson  and  Fogg — them  two 
gen'l'men  as  is  settin'  near  you  now."  This,  of  course,  drew  general  at- 
tention to  Dodson  and  Fogg,  who  looked  as  virtuous  as  possible. 

"  The  attornies  for  the  plaintiff,"  said  Mr.  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  "  well 
they  spoke  in  high  praise  of  the  honorable  conduct  of  Messrs.  Dodson 
and  Fogg,  the  attornies  for  the  plaintiff,  did  they  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Sam,  "they  said  what  a  wery  gen'rous  thing  it  was  o'  them^ 
to  have  taken  up  the  case  on  spec,  and  to  charge  nothin'  at  all  for  costs 
unless  they  got  'em  out  of  Mr.  Pickwick." 

At  this  very  unexpected  reply,  the   spectators  tittered  again,  an 
Dodson  and  Fogg,  turning  very  red,  leant  over  to  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  and 
in  a  hurried  manner  whispered  something  in  his  ear.  -" 


n 

j 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB.  369 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz  aloud,  with  affected 
composure.  '^  It's  perfectly  useless,  my  Lord,  attempting  to  get  at  any 
evidence  through  the  impenetrable  stupidity  of  this  witness.  I  will 
not  trouble  the  court  by  asking  him  any  more  questions.  Stand  down, 
Sir." 

'*  Would  any  other  genTman  like  to  ask  me  anythin'  ?  "  inquired 
Sam,  taking  up  his  hat,  and  looking  round  most  deliberately. 

"  Not  I,  Mr.  Weller,  thank  you,"  said  Sergeant  Snubbin,  laughing. 

"  You  may  go  down.  Sir,"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  waving  his  hand  im- 
patiently. Sam  went  down  accordingly,  after  doing  Messrs.  Dodson  and 
Fogg's  case  as  much  harm  as  he  conveniently  could,  and  saying  just  as 
little  respecting  Mr.  Pickwick  as  might  be,  which  was  precisely  the 
object  he  had  had  in  view  all  along. 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  admit,  my  Lord,"  said  Sergeant  Snubbin,  "  if 
it  will  save  the  examination  of  another  witness,  that  Mr.  Pickwick 
has  retired  from  business,  and  is  a  gentleman  of  considerable_independent 
property." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Sergeant  Buzfuz,  putting  in  the  two  letters  for  the 
clerk  to  read,    "  Then  that's  my  case,  my  Lord." 

Sergeant  Snubbin  then  addressed  the  jury  on  behalf  of  the  defendant; 
and  a  very  long  and  a  very  emphatic  address  he  delivered,  in  which  he 
bestowed  the  highest  possible  eulogiums  on  the  conduct  and  character 
of  Mr.  Pickwick,  but  inasmuch  as  our  readers  are  far  better  able  to 
form  a  correct  estimate  of  that  gentleman's  merits  and  deserts,  than 
Sergeant  Snubbin  could  possibly  be,  we  do  not  feel  called  upon  to  enter 
at  any  length  into  the  learned  gentleman's  observations.  He  at- 
tempted to  shew  that  the  letters  which  had  been  exhibited,  merely 
related  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  dinner,  or  to  the  preparations  for  receiving 
him  in  his  apartments  on  his  return  from  some  country  excursion.  It 
is  sufficient  to  add  in  general  terms,  that  he  did  the  best  he  could  for 
Mr.  Pickwick;  and  the  best,  as  every  body  knows,  on  the  infallible 
authority  of  the  old  adage,  could  do  no  more. 

Mr.  Justice  Stareleigh  summed  up,  in  the  old-established  and  most  ap- 
proved form.  He  read  as  much  of  his  notes  to  the  jury  as  he  could 
decipher  on  so  short  a  notice,  and  made  running  comments  on  the  evi- 
dence as  he  went  along.  If  Mrs.  Bardell  was  right,  it  was  perfectly 
clear  Mr.  Pickwick  was  wrong,  and  if  they  thought  the  evidence  of  Mrs. 
Cluppins  worthy  of  credence  they  would  believe  it,  and,  if  they  didn't, 
why  they  wouldn't.  If  they  were  satisfied  that  a  breach  of  promise  of 
marriage  had  been  committed,  they  would  find  for  the  plaintiff  with 
such  damages  as  they  thought  proper;  and  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  appears  to  them,  that  no  promise  of  marriage  had  ever  been  given, 
they  would  find  for  the  defendant  with  no  damages  at  all.  The  jury 
then  retired  to  their  private  room  to  talk  the  matter  over,  and  the 
Judge  retired  to  his  private  room,  to  refresh  himself  with  a  mutton 
chop  and  a  glass  of  sherry. 

An  anxious  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed  ;  the  jury  came  back,  and  the 
judge  v'as  fetched  in.     Mr.  Pickwick  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  gazed 


870  posTHUxMors  papers  of 

at  the  foreman  with  an  agitated  countenance  and  a  quickly  beating 
heart. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  individual  in  black,  "  are  you  all  agreed  upon 
your  verdict  ?  " 

"  We  are,"  replied  the  foreman. 

"  Do  you  find  for  the  plaintiff,  gentlemen,  or  for  the  defendant  ?  " 
"  For  the  plaintiif." 
*'  With  what  damages,  gentlemen  ?  " 
"i  Seven  hundred  and  fifty  pounds." 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  off  his  spectacles,  carefully  wiped  the  glasses, 
folded  them  into  the  case,  and  put  them  in  his  pocket ;  then  having 
drawn  on  his  gloves  with  great  nicety,  and  stared  at  the  foreman  all 
the  while,  he  mechanically  followed  Mr.  Perker  and  the  blue  bag  out 
of  court. 

They  stopped  in  a  side  room  while  Perker  paid  the  court  fees ;  and 
here  Mr.  Pickwick  was  joined  by  his  friends.  Here,  too,  he  encoun- 
tered Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  rubbing  their  hands  with  every  token 
of  outward  satisfaction. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"  Well,  sir,"  said  Dodson,  for  self  and  partner. 
"  You  imagine  you'll  get  your  costs,  don't  you,  gentlemen  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

Fogg  said  they  thought  it  rather  probable ;  and  Dodson  smiled,  and 
said  they'd  try, 

"  You  may  try,  and  try,  and  try  again,  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick  vehemently,  "  but  not  one  farthing  of  costs  or 
damages  do  you  ever  get  from  me,  if  I  spend  the  rest  of  my  existence 
in  a  debtor's  prison." 

"  Ha,  ha  I"  said  Dodson,  "  You'll  think  better  of  that,  before  next 
term,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

**  He,  he,  he  !  we'll  soon  see  about  that,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  grinned 
Fogg. 

Speechless  with  indignation,  Mr.  Pickwick  allowed  himself  to  be  led 
by  his  solicitor  and  friends  to  the  door,  and  there  assisted  into  a  hack- 
ney-coach, which  had  been  fetched  for  the  purpose,  by  the  ever  watch- 
ful Sam  Weller. 

Sam  had  put  up  the  steps,  and  was  preparing  to  jump  upon  the  box, 
when  he  felt  himself  gently  touched  on  the  shoulder;  and,  looking  round, 
his  father  stood  before  him.  The  old  gentleman's  countenance  wore  a 
mournful  expression,  as  he  shook  his  head  gravely  and  said,  in  warning 
accents — 

"  I  know'd  what  'ud  come  o'  this  here  mode  o'  doin  bisness.  Oh 
Sammy,  Sammy,  vy  worn't  there  a  alleybi !  '* 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  371 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

IN   WHICH    MR.    PICKWICK   THINKS    HE    HAD    BETTER    GO    TO   BATH  ; 

AND  GOES  ACCORDINGLY. 

"  But  surely,  my  dear  Sir,"  said  little  Perker,  as  he  stood  in  oMr. 
Pickwick's  apartment  on  the  morning-  after  the  trial — '<  Surely  you 
don't  really  mean — really  and  seriously  now,  and  irritation  apart — that 
you  won't  pay  these  costs  and  damages  ?" 

"  Not  one  halfpenny/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  firmly ;  "  not  one  half- 
penny." 

"  Hooroar  for  the  principle,  as  the  money-lender  said  ven  he  vouldn*t 
renew  the  bill,"  observed  Mr.  Weller,  who  was  clearing  away  the  break- 
fast things. 

*<  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  have  the  goodness  to  step  down 
stairs." 

*'  Cert'nly,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller ;  and  acting  on  Mr.  Pickwick's 
gentle  hint,  Sam  retired. 

"  No,  Perker,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great  seriousness  of  manner, 
**  my  friends  here,  have  endeavoured  to  dissuade  me  fi*om  this  determi- 
nation, but  without  avail.  I  shall  employ  myself  as  usual,  until  the  oppo- 
site party  have  the  power  of  issuing  a  legal  process  of  execution  against 
me  ;  and  if  they  are  vile  enough  to  avail  themselves  of  it,  and  to  arrest 
my  person,  I  shall  yield  myself  up  with  perfect  cheerfulness  and  con- 
tent of  heart.     When  can  they  do  this?" 

"  They  can  issue  execution,  my  dear  Sir,  for  the  amount  of  the  da- 
mages and  taxed  costs,  next  term,"  replied  Perker,  "just  two  months 
hence,  my  dear  Sir." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Until  that  time,  my  dear  fel* 
low,  let  me  hear  no  more  of  the  matter.  And  now,"  continued  Mr. 
Pickwick,  looking  round  on  his  friends  with  a  good-humoured  smile, 
and  a  sparkle  in  the  eye  which  no  spectacles  could  dim  or  conceal,  "  the 
only  question  is.  Where  shall  we  go  to  next?" 

Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  were  too  much  affected  by  their 
friend's  heroism  to  offer  any  reply.  Mr.  Winkle  had  not  yet  suffi- 
ciently recovered  the  recollection  of  his  evidence  at  the  trial,  to  make 
any  observation  on  any  subject,  so  Mr.  Pickwick  paused  in  vain. 

"  Well,"  said  that  gentleman,  "  if  you  leave  me  to  suggest  our  des- 
tination, I  say  Bath.     I  think  none  of  us  have  ever  been  there." 

Nobody  had  ;  and  as  the  proposition  was  warmly  seconded  by  Perker, 
who  considered  it  extremely  probable  that  if  Mr.  Pickwick  saw  a  little 
change  and  gaiety  he  would  be  inclined  to  think  better  of  his  determi- 
nation, and  worse  of  a  debtor's  prison,  it  was  carried  unanimously  :  and 
Sam  was  at  once  dispatched  to  the  White  Horse  Cellar,  to  take  five 
places  by  the  half-past  seven  o'clock  coach,  next  morning. 

X  s 


372  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS   OF 

There  were  just  two  places  to  be  had  inside,  and  just  three  to  he  had 
out ;  so  Sam  Weller  booked  for  them  all,  and  having-  exchanged  a  few 
compliments  with  the  booking--office  clerk  on  the  subject  of  a  pewter 
half-crown  which  was  tendered  him  as  a  portion  of  his  "  chang-e,"  walked 
back  to  the  George  and  Vulture,  where  he  was  pretty  busily  employed 
till  bed-time  in  reducing-  clothes  and  linen  into  the  smallest  possible 
compass,  and  exerting  his  mechanical  genius  in  constructing  a  variety 
of  ingenious  devices  for  keeping  the  lids  on  boxes  which  had  neither 
locks  nor  hinges. 

The  next  was  a  very  unpropitious  morning  for  a  journey — muggy, 
damp,  and  drizzly.  The  horses  in  the  stages  that  were  going  out,  and 
had  come  through  the  city,  were  smoking  so,  that  the  outside  passen- 
gers were  invisible.  The  newspaper-sellers  looked  moist  and  smelt 
mouldy  ;  the  wet  ran  off  the  hats  of  the  orange- venders  as  they  thrust 
their  heads  into  the  coach  windows,  and  diluted  the  insides  in  a  refresh- 
ing manner.  The  Jews  with  the  fifty-bladed  penknifes  shut  them  up 
in  despair ;  and  the  men  with  the  pocket-books  made  pocket-books  of 
them.  Watch-guards  and  toasting-forks  were  alike  at  a  discount,  and 
pencil-cases  and  sponge  were  a  drug  in  the  market. 

Leaving  Sam  Weller  to  rescue  the  luggage  from  the  seven  or  eight 
porters  who  flung  themselves  savagely  upon  it,  the  moment  the  coach 
stopped,  and  finding  that  they  were  about  twenty  minutes  too  early, 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  went  for  shelter  into  the  travellers*  room 
— the  last  resource  of  human  dejection. 

The  travellers'  room  at  the  White  Eiorse  Cellar  is  of  course  uncom-? 
fortable ;  it  would  be  no  traveller's  room  if  it  were  not.  It  is  the  right- 
hand  parlour,  into  which  an  aspiring  kitchen  fire-place  appears  to  have 
walked,  accompanied  by  a  rebellious  poker,  tongs,  and  shovel.  It  is 
divided  into  boxes  for  the  solitary  confinement  of  travellers,  and  is  fur-^ 
nished  with  a  clock,  a  looking-glass,  and  a  live  waiter,  which  latter  article 
is  kept  in  a  small  kennel  for  washing  glasses,  in  a  corner  of  the  apart- 
ment. 

One  of  these  boxes  was  occupied  on  this  particular  occasion  by  a 
stern-eyed  man  of  about  five-and-forty,  who  had  a  bald  and  glossy 
forehead,  with  a  good  deal  of  black  hair  at  the  sides  and  back  of  his 
head,  and  large  black  whiskers.  He  was  buttoned  up  to  the  chin, 
in  a  brown  coat ;  and  had  a  large  seal-skin  travelling  cap,  and  a  great- 
coat and  cloak  lying  on  the  seat  beside  him.  He  looked  up  from  his 
breakfast  as  Mr.  Pickwick  entered,  with  a  fierce  and  peremptory  air, 
which  was  very  dignified;  and  having  scrutinized  that  gentleman  au4 
his  companions  to  his  entire  satisfaction,  hummed  a  tune,  in  a  manr 
ner  which  seemed  to  say  that  he  rather  suspected  somebody  wanted  to 
take  advantage  of  him,  but  it  wouldn't  do. 

"  Waiter,"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  whiskers. 

"  Sir  ?"  replied  a  man  with  a  dirty  complexion,  and  a  towel  of  th$ 
same,  emerging  from  the  kennel  before  mentioned. 

''  Some  more  toast." 

«  Yes,  Sir." 

««  Buttered  toast,  mind/'  said  the  gentleman,  fiercely. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  373 

"  DVectly,  Sir,"  replied  the  waiter. 

The  gentleman  with  the  whiskers  hummed  a  tune  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  before,  and  pending  the  arrival  of  the  toast,  advanced  to  the  front 
of  the  fire,  and,  taking  his  coat  tails  under  his  arms,  looked  at  his  boots 
and  ruminated. 

"  I  wonder  whereabouts  in  Bath  this  coach  puts  up,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, mildly  addressing  Mr.  Winkle. 

"Hum — eh — what's  that?"  said  the  strange  man. 

*'  I  made  an  observation  to  my  friend.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
always  ready  to  enter  into  conversation.  "I  wondered  at  what  house 
the  Bath  coach  put  up.     Perhaps  you  can  inform  me." 

"  Are  you  going  to  Bath?"  said  the  strange  man. 

"  I  am,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"And  those  other  gentlemen?" 

"  They  are  going  also,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Not  inside — I'll  be  damned  if  you're  going  inside,"  said  the  strange 
man. 

«  Not  all  of  us,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  No,  not  all  of  you,"  said  the  strange  man  emphatically.  "  Pve 
taken  two  places.  If  they  try  to  squeeze  six  people  into  an  infernal 
box  that  only  holds  four,  I'll  take  a  post-chaise  and  bring  an  action. 
I've  paid  my  fare.  It  won't  do;  I  told  the  clerk  wh«n  I  took  my 
places  that  it  wouldn't  do.  I  know  these  things  have  been  done.  I 
know  they  are  done  every  day,  but  I  never  was  done,  and  I  never  will 
be.  Those  who  know  me  best,  best  know  it ;  crush  me !"  Here  the 
fierce  gentleman  rang  the  bell  with  great  violence,  and  told  th(f  waiter 
he'd  better  bring  the  toast  in  five  seconds,  or  he'd  know  the  reason  why. 

"  My  dear  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  you  will  allow  me  to  observe 
that  this  is  a  very  unnecessary  display  of  excitement.  I  have  only 
taken  places  inside,  for  two." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  the  fierce  man.  "  I  withdraw  my  ex- 
pressions. I  tender  an  apology.  There's  my  card.  Give  me  your 
acquaintance." 

'  "  With  great  pleasure.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  We  are  to  be 
fellow  travellers,  and  I  hope  we  shall  find  each  other's  society  mutually 
agreeable." 

"  I  hope  we  shall,"  said  the  fierce  gentleman.  "  I  know  we  shall.  I 
like  your  looks ;  t-hey  please  me.  Gentlemen,  your  hands  and  names. 
Know  me." 

Of  course,  an  interchange  of  friendly  salutations  followed  this  gra- 
cious speech ;  and  the  fierce  gentleman  immediately  proceeded  to  inform 
the  friends  in  the  same  short  abrupt  jerking  sentences,  that  his  name 
was  Dowler,  that  he  was  going  to  Bath  on  pleasure,  that  he  was  for- 
merly in  the  army,  that  he  had  now  set  up  in  business  as  a  gentleman, 
that  he  lived  upon  the  profits,  and  that  the  individual  for  whom  the 
second  place  was  taken,  was  a  personage  no  less  illustrious  than  Mrs. 
Powler,  his  lady  wife. 

"  She's  a  fine  woman,"  said  Mr.  Dowler.  "  I  am  proud  of  her.  I 
have  reason." 

£  £  2 


■ 


374  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS    OF 

"  I  hope  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  judging,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick 
with  a  smile. 

"  You  shall,"  replied  Dowler.  *'  She  shall  know  you.  She  shall 
esteem  you.  I  courted  her  under  singular  circumstances.  I  won  her 
through  a  rash  vow.  Thus.  I  saw  her ;  I  loved  her ,  I  proposed ;  she 
refused  me. — '  You  love  another  ?* — *  Spare  my  blushes.' — '  I  know  him. 
— *  You  do.'     *  Very  good,  if  he  remains  here^  I'll  skin  him.* " 

"Lord  bless  me!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick  involuntarily, 

"  Did  you  skin  the  gentleman,  Sir  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  with  a 
very  pale  face. 

"  I  wrote  him  a  note.    I  said  it  was  a  painful  thing.    And  so  it  was." 

"  Certainly/'  interposed  Mr.  Winkle. 

*^  I  said  I  had  pledged  my  word  as  a  gentleman  to  skin  him.  My 
character  was  at  stake.  I  had  no  alternative.  As  an  officer  in  His 
Majesty's  service,  I  was  bound  to  do  it.  I  regretted  the  necessity,  but 
it  must  be  done.  He  was  open  to  conviction.  He  saw  that  the  rules 
of  the  service  were  imperative.  He  fled.  I  married  her.  Here's  the 
coach.     That's  her  head." 

As  Mr.  Dowler  concluded,  he  pointed  to  a  stage  which  had  just 
driven  up :  from  the  open  window  of  which,  a  rather  pretty  face  in  a 
bright  blue  bonnet  was  looking  among  the  crowd  on  the  pavement, 
most  probably  for  the  rash  man  himselK  Mr.  Dowler  paid  his  bill  and 
hurried  out  with  his  travelling-cap,  coat,  and  cloak ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  his  friends  followed  to  secure  their  places. 

Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  had  seated  themselves  at  the  back 
part  of  the  coach ;  Mr.  Winkle  had  got  inside,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  was 
preparing  to  follow  him,  when  Sam  Weller  came  up  to  his  master,  and 
whispering  in  his  ear,  begged  to  speak  to  him,  with  an  air  of  the  deepest 
mystery. 

''  Well,  Sam/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  What's  the  matter  now  ?  " 

"  Here's  rayther  a  rum  go,  Sir,"  replied  Sam. 

«  What  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  This  here,  Sir,"  rejoined  Sam,  "  I'm  wery  much  afeerd,  Sir, 
that  the  properiator  o*  this  here  coach  is  a  playin'  some  imperence 
vith  us." 

"  How  is  that,  Sam  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  "  aren't  the  names  down 

on  the  way-bill  ?  " 

"  The  names  is  not  only  down  on  the  vay-bill.  Sir,"  replied  Sara, 
*'  but  they've  painted  vun  on  'em  up,  on  the  door  o'  the  coach."  As 
Sam  spoke,  he  pointed  to  that  part  of  the  coach  door  on  which  the  pro- 
prietor's name  usually  appears ;  and  there  sure  enough,  in  gilt  letters  of 
a  goodly  size,  was  the  magic  name  of  Pickwick  ! 

"  Dear  me,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  quite  staggered  by  the  coiiv 
cidence;  "  what  a  very  extraordinary  thing !  " 

"  Yes,  but  that  ain't  all,"  said  Sam,  again  directing  his  master's  atten- 
tion to  the  coach  door ;  "  not  content  vith  writin'  up  Pickwick,  they 
puts  '  Moses '  afore  it,  vich  I  call  addin'  insult  to  injury,  as  the  parrot 
said  ven  they  not  only  took  him  from  his  native  ]and>  but  made  him 
talk  the  English  langvidge  artervards." 


THE    PICWKICK   CLUB.  375 

"  It's  odd  enough  certainly,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  '*  but  if  we 
stand  talking  here,  we  shall  lose  our  places." 

"Wot,  ain't  nothin'  to  be  done  in  consequence,  Sir?"  exclaimed  Sam, 
perfectly  aghast  at  the  coolness  with  which  Mr.  Pickwick  prepared  to 
ensconce  himself  inside. 

"  Done  I "  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     «  What  should  be  done  ?  '* 

"  Ain't  nobody  to  be  whopped  for  takin'  this  here  liberty.  Sir  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Weller,  who  had  expected  that  at  least  he  would  have  been  com- 
missioned to  challenge  the  guard  and  coachman  to  a  pugilistic  en- 
counter on  the  spot. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  eagerly;  "  not  on  any  account. 
Jump  up  to  your  seat  directly." 

"  I'm  wery  much  afeerd,"  muttered  Sam  to  himself,  as  he  turned 
away,  "  that  somethin'  queer's  come  over  the  governor,  or  he'd  never 
ha'  stood  this  so  quiet.  1  hope  that  'ere  trial  hasn't  broken  his  spirit, 
but  it  looks  bad :  wery  bad."  Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head  gravely ; 
and  it  is  worthy  of  remark,  as  an  illustration  of  the  manner  in  which 
he  took  this  circumstance  to  heart,  that  he  did  not  speak  another  word 
until  the  coach  reached  the  Kensington  turnpike,  which  was  so  long  a 
time  for  him  to  remain  taciturn,  that  the  fact  may  be  considered  wholly 
unprecedented. 

Nothing  worthy  of  special  mention  occurred  during  the  journey. 
Mr.  Dowler  related  a  variety  of  anecdotes,  all  illustrative  of  his  own 
personal  prowess  and  desperation,  and  appealea  to  Mrs.  Dowler  in  cor- 
roboration thereof ;  when  Mrs.  Dowler  invariably  brought  in,  in  the 
form  of  an  appendix,  some  remarkable  fact  or  circumstance  which  Mr. 
Dowler  had  forgotten,  or  had  perhaps  through  modesty  omitted,  for 
the  addenda  in  every  instance  went  to  show  that  Mr.  Dowler  was  even 
a  more  wonderful  fellow  than  he  made  himself  out  to  be.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  Mr.  Winkle  listened  with  great  admiration,  and  at  intervals 
conversed  with  Mrs.  Dowler,  who  was  a  very  agreeable  and  fascinating 
person.  So,  what  between  Mr.  Dowler's  stories,  and  Mrs.  Dowler's 
charms,  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  good  humour,  and  Mr.  Winkle's  good  list- 
ening, the  insides  contrived  to  be  very  companionable  all  the  way. 

The  outsides  did  as  outsides  always  do.  They  were  very  cheerful  and 
talkative  at  the  beginning  of  every  stage,  and  very  dismal  and  sleepy  in 
the  middle,  and  very  bright  and  wakeful  again,  towards  the  end.  There 
was  one  young  gentleman  in  an  India-rubber  cloak,  who  smoked  cigars 
all  day ;  and  there  was  another  young  gentleman  in  a  parody  upon  a 
great  coat,  who  lighted  a  good  many,  and  feeling  obviously  unsettled 
after  the  second  whiff,  threw  them  away  when  he  thought  nobody  was 
looking  at  him.  There  was  a  third  young  man  on  the  box  who  wished 
to  be  learned  in  cattle,  and  an  old  one  behind,  who  was  familiar  with 
farming.  There  was  a  constant  succession  of  Christian  names  in 
smock  frocks  and  white  coats,  who  were  invited  to  have  a  "  lift  "  by  the 
guard,  and  who  knew  every  horse  and  hostler  on  the  road  and  off  it ; 
and  there  was  a  dinner  which  would  have  been  cheap  at  half-a-crown  a 
mouth,  if  any  moderate  number  of  mouths  could  have  eat  it  in  the  time. 
And  at  seven  o'clock  p.  m.,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends,  and  Mr. 


376  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 

Dowler  and  his  wife,  respectively  retired  to  their  private  sitting-rooms 
at  the  White  Hart  hotel,  opposite  the  great  pump  room,  Bath,  where 
the  waiters,  from  their  costume,  might  be  mistaken  for  Westminster 
boys,  only  they  destroy  the  illusion  by  behaving  themselves  so  much 
better. 

Breakfast  had  scarcely  been  cleared  away  on  the  succeeding  morning, 
when  a  waiter  brought  in  Mr.  Dowler's  card,  with  a  request  to  be 
allowed  permission  to  introduce  a  friend.  Mr.  Dowler  at  once  followed 
up  the  delivery  of  the  card,  by  bringing  himself  and  the  friend  also. 

The  friend  was  a  charming  young  man  of  not  much  more  than  fifty, 
dressed  in  a  very  bright  blue  coat  with  resplendent  buttons,  black  trousers, 
and  the  thinnest  possible  pair  of  highly-polished  boots.  A  gold  eye-glass 
was  suspended  from  his  neck  by  a  short  broad  black  ribbon  ;  a  gold  snuff- 
box was  lightly  clasped  in  his  left  hand,  gold  rings  innumerable  glittered 
on  his  fingers,  and  a  large  diamond  pin  set  in  gold  glistened  in  his  shirt 
frill.  He  had  a  gold  watch,  and  a  gold  curb  chain  with  large  gold  seals ; 
and  he  carried  a  pliant  ebony  cane  with  a  heavy  gold  top.  His  linen 
was  of  the  very  whitest,  finest,  and  stiffest ;  his  wig  of  the  glossiest, 
blackest,  and  curliest.  His  snuif  was  princes'  mixture ;  his  scent  bouquet 
du  roi.  His  features  were  contracted  into  a  perpetual  smile ;  and  his  teeth 
were  in  such  perfect  order  that  it  was  difficult  at  a  small  distance  to  tell 
tne  real  ones  from  the  false. 

*'  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Dowler ;  "  my  friend,  Angelo  Cyrus  Bantam, 
Esquire,  M.  C     Bantam  ;  Mr.  Pickwick.     Know  each  other." 

"  Welcome  to  Ba — ath,  Sir.  This  is  indeed  an  acquisition.  Most 
welcome  to  Ba — ath,  Sir.  It  is  long — very  long,  Mr.  Pickwick,  since 
you  drank  the  waters.  It  appears  an  age,  Mr.  Pickwick.  Re — markable!" 

Such  were  the  expressions  with  which  Angelo  Cyrus  Bantam,  Esquire, 
M.  C,  took  Mr.  Pickwick's  hand ;  retaining  it  in  his  meantime,  and 
shrugging  up  his  shoulders  with  a  constant  succession  of  bows,  as  if  he 
really  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  the  trial  of  letting  it  go  again. 

"  It  is  a  very  long  time  since  I  drank  the  waters,  certainly,"  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick ;  "  for  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge,  I  was  never  here 
before." 

"Never  in  Ba — ath,  Mr.  Pickwick  I"  exclaimed  the  Grand  Master, 
etting  the  hand  fall  in  astonishment.    "  Never  in  Ba — ath !    He  !  he  I 
Mr.  Pickwick,  you  are  a  wag.  Not  bad,  not  bad.  Good,  good.  He!  he! 
he!   Re — markable!" 

"  To  my  shame,  I  must  say  that  I  am  perfectly  serious,"  rejoined 
Mr.  Pickwick,     "  I  really  never  was  here,  before." 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  exclaimed  the  Grand  Master,  looking  extremely  pleased ; 
"  Yes,  yes — good,  good — better  and  better.  You  are  the  gentleman  of 
whom  we  have  heard.  Yes ;  we  know  you,  Mr.  Pickwick ;  we  know 
you."  r 

"  The  reports  of  the  trial  in  those  confounded  papers,"  thought  Mr»M 
Pickwick.     "  They  have  heard  all  about  me."  ' 

"  You  are  the  gentleman  residing  on  Clapham  Green,"  resumed 
Bantam,  "  who  lost  the  use  of  his  limbs  from  imprudently  taking  cold 
after  port  wine — who  could  not  be  moved  in  consequence  of  acute  suf- 


THE  PICKWICK   CLUB.  377 

fering",  and  who  had  the  water  from  the  King's  Bath  hottled  at  one 
hundred  and  three  degrees,  and  sent  by  waggon  to  his  bed-room  in 
town,  where  he  bathed,  sneezed,  and  same  day  recovered.  Very  re- 
markable !" 

Mr.  Pickwick  acknowledged  the  compliment  which  the  supposition 
implied,  but  had  the  self-denial  to  repudiate  it,  notwithstanding ;  and 
taking  advantage  of  a  moment's  silence  on  the  part  of  the  M.  C,  begged 
to  introduce  his  friends,  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr.  Snod- 
grass — an  introduction  which  of  course  overwhelmed  the  M.  C.  with 
delight  and  honour. 

"  Bantam,"  said  Mr.  Dowler,  **  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  are 
strangers.     They  must  put  their  names  down.     Where's  the  book  ?" 

"  The  register  of  the  distinguished  visiters  in  Ba — ath  will  be  at 
the  Pump  Room  this  morning  at  two  o'clock,"  replied  the  M.  C. 
"  Will  you  guide  our  friends  to  that  splendid  building,  and  enable  me 
to  procure  their  autographs  ?" 

"  I  will,"  rejoined  Dowler.  '*  This  is  a  long  call.  It's  time  to  go ; 
I  shall  be  here  again  in  an  hour.     Come." 

"  This  is  a  ball  night,"  said  the  M.  C,  again  taking  Mr.  Pickwick's 
hand,  as  he  rose  to  go.  "  The  ball-nights  in  Ba — ath  are  moments 
snatched  from  Paradise ;  rendered  bewitching  by  music,  beauty,  ele- 
gance, fashion,  etiquette,  and — and — above  all,  by  the  absence  of  trades- 
people, who  are  quite  inconsistent  with  Paradise,  and  who  have  an  anal- 
gamation  of  themselves  at  the  Guildhall  every  fortnight,  which  is,  to 
say  the  least,  remarkable.  Good  bye,  good  bye !"  and  protesting  all 
the  way  down  stairs  that  he  was  most  satisfied,  and  most  delighted,  and 
most  overpowered,  and  most  flattered,  Angelo  Cyrus  Bantam,  Esquire, 
M.C.,  stepped  into  a  very  elegant  chariot  that  waited  at  the  door,  and 
rattled  off. 

At  the  appointed  hour,  Mr  Pickwick  and  his  friends,  escorted  by 
Dowler,  repaired  to  the  Assembly  Rooms,  and  wrote  their  names  down 
in  the  book— an  instance  of  condescension  at  which  Angelo  Bantam 
was  even  more  overpowered  than  before.  Tickets  of  admission  to  that 
evening's  assembly  were  to  have  been  prepared  for  the  whole  party,  but 
as  they  were  not  ready,  Mr.  Pickwick  undertook,  despite  all  the  protes- 
tations to  the  contrary  of  Angelo  Bantam,  to  send  Sam  for  them  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  to  the  M.  C.'s  house  in  Queen  Square. 
Having  taken  a  short  walk  through  the  city,  and  arrived  at  the  unani- 
mous conclusion  that  Park  Street  was  very  much  like  the  perpendicular 
streets  a  man  sees  in  a  dream,  which  he  cannot  get  up  for  the  life  of  him, 
they  returned  to  the  White  Hart,  and  dispatched  Sam  on  the  errand  to 
which  his  master  had  pledged  him. 

Sam  Weller  put  on  his  hat  in  a  very  easy  and  graceful  manner,  and 
thrusting  his  hands  in  his  waistcoat  pockets,  walked  with  great  delibe- 
ration to  Queen  Square,  whistling  as  he  went  along,  several  of  the  most 
popular  airs  of  the  day,  as  arranged  with  entirely  new  movements  for 
that  noble  instrument  the  organ,  either  mouth  or  barrel.  Arriving  at 
the  number  in  Queen  Square  to  which  he  had  been  directed,  he  left  off 
whistling,  and  gave  a  cheerful  knock    which  was  instantaneously  an- 


D78  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 

swered  by  a  powdered-headed  footman  in  gorgeous  livery,  and  symme* 
trical  stature. 

**  Is  this  here  Mr.  Bantam's,  old  feller  ?"  inquired  Sam  Weller,  no- 
thing abashed  by  the  blaze  of  splendour  which  burst  upon  his  sight,  in 
the  person  of  the  powdered-headed  footman  with  the  gorgeous  livery. 

"  Why,  young  man  ?**  was  the  haughty  inquiry  of  the  powdered- 
headed  footman. 

♦'  'Cos  if  it  is,  jist  you  step  into  him  with  that  'ere  card,  and  say  Mr. 
Veller's  a  waitin',  will  you,  six-foot  ?"  said  Sam.  And  saying  it,  he  very 
coolly  walked  into  the  hall,  and  sat  down. 

The  powdered-headed  footman  slammed  the  door  very  hard,  and 
scowled  very  grandly,  but  both  the  slam  and  the  scowl  were  lost  upon 
Sam,  who  was  regarding  a  mahogany  umbrella  stand  with  every  out- 
ward token  of  critical  approval. 

Apparently  his  master's  reception  of  the  card  had  impressed  the 
powdered-headed  footman  in  Sam's  favour,  for  when  he  came  back  from 
delivering  it,  he  smiled  in  a  friendly  manner,  and  said  that  the  answer 
would  be  ready  directly. 

*'  Wery  good,"  said  Sam.  "  Tell  the  old  gen'lm'n  not  to  put  himself 
in  a  pesperation.     No  hurry,  six-foot.     I've  had  my  dinner." 

"  You  dine  early.  Sir,"  said  the  powdered-headed  footman. 

"  I  find  I  gets  on  better  at  supper  when  I  does,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Have  you  been  long  in  Bath,  Sir  ?"  inquired  the  powdered-headed 
footman.     "  I  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  of  you  before." 

'*  I  haven't  created  any  wery  surprisin'  sensation  here  yet,"  rejoined 
Sam,  "  for  me  and  the  other  lash'nables  only  come,  last  night." 

"  Nice  place.  Sir,"  said  the  powdered-headed  footman. 

"  Seems  so,"  observed  Sam. 

"  Pleasant  society,  Sir,"  remarked  the  powdered-headed  footman. 
"  Very  agreeable  servants.  Sir." 

<'  I  should  think  they  wos,"  replied  Sam.  "  Aflfable,  unaffected^ 
say-nothin'-to-nobody  sort  o'  fellers." 

"  Oh,  very  much  so,  indeed,  Sir,"  said  the  powdered-headed  footman, 
evidently  taking  Sam's  remark  as  a  high  compliment.  "  Very  much 
so  indeed.  Do  you  do  any  thing  in  this  way,  sir?"  inquired  the  tall 
footman,  producing  a  small  snuff-box  with  a  fox's  head  on  the  top  of  it.. 

*'  Not  without  sneezing,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Why,  it  is  difBcult,  Sir,  I  confess,"  said  the  tall  footman.  "  It 
may  be  done  by  degrees,  Sir.  Coffee  is  the  best  practice.  I  carried 
coffee,  Sir,  for  a  long  time.     It  looks  very  like  rappee,  Sir." 

Here  a  sharp  peal  at  the  bell  reduced  the  powdered-headed  foot- 
man to  the  ignominious  necessity  of  putting  the  fox's  head  in  hisL 
pocket,  and  hastening  with  a  humble  countenance  to  Mr.  Bantam's 
"  study."  By  the  by,  we  scarcely  ever  knew  a  man  who  never  read, 
or  wrote  either,  who  hadn't  got  some  small  back  parlour  which  he  would^l 
call  a  study. 

"  There  is  the  answer,  Sir,"  said  the  powdered-headed  footman. 
"  I  am  afraid  you'll  find  it  inconveniently  large." 


I 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  379 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  said  Sam,  taking  a  letter  with  a  small  enclosure. 
*  It's  just  possible  as  exhausted  natur  may  manag^e  to  surwive  it." 

"  I  hope  we  shall  meet  again,  Sir,"  said  the  powdered-headed  foot- 
man, rubbing  his  hands,  and  following  Sam  out  to  the  door-step. 

"  You  are  wery  obligin'.  Sir,"  replied  Sam.  "  Now,  don't  allow 
yourself  to  be  fatigued  beyond  your  powers,  there's  a  amiable  bein*. 
Consider  what  you  owe  to  society,  and  don't  let  yourself  be  injured  by 
too  much  work.  For  the  sake  o'  your  feller  creeturs,  keep  yourself  as 
quiet  as  you  can ;  only  think  what  a  loss  you  would  be."  With  these 
pathetic  words,  Sam  Weller  departed. 

"  A  very  singular  young  man  that,"  said  the  powdered-headed  foot- 
man, looking  after  Mr.  Weller  with  a  countenance  which  clearly  showed 
he  could  make  nothing  of  him. 

Sam  said  nothing  at  all.  He  winked,  shook  his  head,  smiled,  winked 
again ;  and  with  an  expression  of  countenance  which  seemed  to  de- 
note that  he  was  greatly  amused  with  something  or  other,  walked  mer- 
rily away. 

At  precisely  twenty  minutes  before  eight  o'clock  that  night,  Angelo 
Cyrus  Bantam,  Esquire,  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies,  emerged  from 
his  chariot  at  the  door  of  the  Assembly  Rooms  in  the  same  wig,  the 
same  teeth,  the  same  eye-glass,  the  same  watch  and  seals,  the  same 
rings,  the  same  shirt-pin,  and  the  same  cane.  The  only  observable 
alterations  in  his  appearance,  were,  that  he  wore  a  brighter  blue  coat, 
with  a  white  silk  lining,  black  tights,  black  silk  stockings,  and  pumps, 
and  a  white  waistcoat,  and  was,  if  possible,  just  a  thought  more  scented. 

Thus  attired,  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies,  in  strict  discharge  of  the 
important  duties  of  his  all-important  office,  planted  himself  in  the  rooms 
to  receive  the  com.pany. 

Bath  being  full,  the  company,  and  the  sixpences  for  tea,  poured  in, 
in  shoals.  In  the  ball-room,  the  long  card-room,  the  octagonal  card- 
room,  the  staircases,  and  the  passages,  the  hum  of  many  voices,  and 
the  sound  of  many  feet,  were  perfectly  bewildering.  Dresses  rustled, 
feathers  waved,  lights  shone,  and  jewels  sparkled.  There  was  the 
music — not  of  the  quadrille  band,  for  it  had  not  yet  commenced ;  but 
the  music  of  soft  tiny  footsteps,  with  now  and  then  a  clear  merry 
laugh — low  and  gentle,  but  very  pleasant  to  hear  in  a  female  voice,  whe- 
ther in  Bath  or  elsewhere.  Brilliant  eyes,  lighted  up  with  pleasurable 
expectation,  gleamed  from  every  side  ;  and  look  where  you  would,  some 
exquisite  form  glided  gracefully  through  the  throng,  and  was  no  sooner 
lost,  than  it  was  replaced  by  another,  as  dainty  and  bewitching. 

In  the  tea-room,  and  hovering  round  the  card-tables,  were  a  vast 
number  of  queer  old  ladies  and  decrepid  old  gentlemen,  discussing  all 
the  small  talk  and  scandal  of  the  day,  with  an  evident  relish  and  gusto 
which  sufficiently  bespoke  the  intensity  of  the  pleasure  they  derived 
from  the  occupation.  Mingled  with  these  groups  were  three  or  four 
matchmaking  mammas,  appearing  to  be  wholly  absorbed  by  the  conver- 
sation in  which  they  were  taking  part,  but  failing  not  from  time  to  time 
to  cast  an  anxious  sidelong  glance  upon  their  daughters,  who,  remera- 


380  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

bering-  the  maternal  injunction  to  make  the  best  nse  of  their  time,  had 
already  commenced  incipient  flirtations  in  the  mislaying-  scarfs,  putting- 
on  gloves,  setting  down  cups,  and  so  forth ;  slight  matters  apparently, 
but  which  may  be  turned  to  surprisingly  good  account  by  expert  prac- 
titioners. 

Lounging  near  the  doors,  and  in  remote  corners,  were  various  knots 
of  silly  young  men,  displaying  every  variety  of  puppyism  and  stupidity 
amusing  all  sensible  people  near  them,  with  their  folly  and  conceit,  and 
happily  thinking  themselves  the  objects  of  general  admiration — a  wise 
and  merciful  dispensation  which  no  good  man  will  quarrel  with. 

And  lastly,  seated  on  some  of  the  back  benches,  where  they  had  al- 
ready taken  up  their  positions  for  the  evening,  were  divers  unmarried 
ladies  past  their  grand  climateric,  who,  not  dancing  because  there  were 
no  partners  for  them,  and  not  playing  cards  lest  they  should  be  set 
down  as  irretrievably  single,  were  in  the  favourable  situation  of  being 
able  to  abuse  everybody  without  reflecting  on  themselves.  In  short, 
they  could  abuse  everybody,  because  everybody  was  there.  It  was  a  scene 
of  gaiety,  glitter,  and  show ;  of  richly-dressed  people,  handsome  mir- 
rors, chalked  floors,  girandoles,  and  wax-candles  ;  and  in  all  parts  of  the 
scene,  gliding  from  spot  to  spot  in  silent  softness,  bowing  obsequiously 
to  this  party,  nodding  familiarly  to  that,  and  smiling  complacently  on 
all,  was  the  sprucely  attired  person  of  Angelo  Cyrus  Bantam,  Esquire, 
the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies. 

"  Stop  in  the  tea-room.  Take  your  sixpenn'orth.  They  lay  on  hot 
water,  and  call  it  tea.  Drink  it."  said  Mr.  Dowler,  in  a  loud  voice,  di- 
recting Mr.  Pickwick,  who  advanced  at  the  head  of  the  little  party,  with 
Mrs.  Dowler  on  his  arm.  Into  the  tea-room  Mr.  Pickwick  turned ; 
and  catching  sight  of  him,  Mr,  Bantam  corkscrewed  his  way  through 
the  crowd,  and  welcomed  him  with  ecstacy. 

"  My  dear  Sir,  I  am  highly  honoured.  Ba — ath  is  favoured.  Mrs. 
Dowler,  you  embellish  the  rooms.  I  congratulate  you  on  your  fea- 
thers.    Ke — markable !" 

'*  Any  body  here?"  inquired  Dowler,  suspiciously. 

"  Any  body  I  The  elite  of  Ba — ath.  Mr.  Pickwick,  do  you  see  the 
lady  in  the  gauze  turban  ?" 

*'  The  fat  old  lady  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  innocently. 

*'  Hush,  my  dear  Sir — nobody's  fat  or  old  in  Ba — ath.  That's  thd 
Dowager  Lady  Snuphanuph." 

"  Is  it  indeed  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  No  less  a  person,  I  assure  you,"  said  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies; 
"  Hush.  Draw  a  little  nearer,  Mr.  Pickwick.  You  see  the  splendidly 
dressed  young  man  coming  this  way  ?" 

"  The  one  with  the  long  hair,  and  the  particularly  small  forehead?" 
inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  The  same.  The  richest  young  man  in  Ba — ath  at  this  moment. 
Young  Lord  Mutanhed." 

**  You  don't  say  so  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

**  Yes.     You'll  hear  his  voice  in  a  moment,  Mr.  Pickwick.    He' 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB.  S8l 

speak  to  me.  The  other  gentleman  with  him,  in  the  red  under  waist- 
coat and  dark  moustache,  is  the  Honourable  Mr.  Crushton,  his  bosom 
friend.     How  do  you  do,  my  Lord  ?'* 

"  Veway  hot.  Bantam,"  said  his  Lordship. 

"  It  is  very  warm,  my  Lord,"  replied  the  M.  C. 

**  Confounded,"  assented  the  Honourable  Mr.  Crushton. 

"  Have  you  seen  his  Lordship's  mail  cart,  Bantam  ?"  inquired  the 
Honourable  Mr.  Crushton,  after  a  short  pause,  during  which  young 
Lord  Mutanhed  had  been  endeavouring  to  stare  Mr.  Pickwick  out  of 
couutenance,  and  Mr.  Crushton  had  been  reflecting  what  subject  his  Lord- 
ship could  talk  about  best. 

"  Dear  me,  no,"  replied  the  M.  C.  *'  A  mail  cart  I  What  an  ex- 
cellent idea.     Re — markable  I" 

"  Gwacious  Heavens  I"  said  his  Lordship,  "  I  thought  evewebody 
had  seen  the  new  mail  cart ;  it's  the  neatest,  pwettiest,  gwacefullest 
thing  that  ever  wan  upon  wheels — painted  wed,  with  acweam  piebald." 

"  With  a  real  box  for  the  letters,  and  all  complete,"  said  the  Honour- 
able Mr  Crushton. 

"  And  a  little  seat  in  fwont,  with  an  iwon  wail,  for  the  dwiver," 
added  his  Lordship.  "  I  dwove  it  over  to  Bwistol  the  other  morning 
in  a  cwimson  coat,  with  two  servants  widing  a  quarter  of  a  mile  be- 
hind ;  and  cwucify  me  if  the  people  didn't  wush  out  of  their  cottages, 
and  awest  my  pwogwess,  to  know  if  I  wasn't  the  post.  Glorwious, 
Glorwious  !" 

At  this  anecdote  his  Lordship  laughed  very  heartily,  as  did  the  list- 
eners, of  course.  Then  drawing  his  arm  through  that  of  the  obsequi- 
ous Mr.  Crushton,  Lord  Mutanhed  walked  away. 

"  Delightful  young  man,  his  Lordship,"  said  the  Master  of  the  Cere- 
monies. 

"  So  I  should  think,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  drily. 

The  dancing  having  commenced,  the  necessary  introductions  having 
been  made,  and  all  preliminaries  arranged,  Angelo  Bantam  rejoined 
Mr.  Pickwick,  and  led  him  into  the  card-room. 

Just  at  the  very  moment  of  their  entrance,  the  Dowager  Lady 
Snuphanuph  and  two  other  ladies  of  an  ancient  and  whist-like  appear- 
ance, were  hovering  over  an  unoccupied  card-table ;  and  they  no  sooner 
set  eyes  upon  Mr.  Pickwick  under  the  convoy  of  Angelo  Bantam,  than 
they  exchanged  glances  with  each  other,  seeing  that  he  was  precisely 
the  very  person  they  wanted  to  make  up  the  rubber. 

"  My  dear  Bantam,"  said  tiie  Dowger  Lady  Snuphanuph,  coaxingly, 
*'  find  us  some  nice  creature  to  make  up  this  table ;  there's  a  good 
soul."  Mr.  Pickwick  happened  to  be  looking  another  way  at  the  mo- 
ment, so  her  Ladyship  nodded  her  head  towards  him,  and  frowned  ex- 
pressively. 

«  My  friend  Mr.  Pickwick,  my  Lady,  will  be  most  happy,  I  am  sure-, 
re — markably  so,"  said  the  M.'C,  taking  the  hint.  "  Mr.  Pickwick, 
Lady  Snuphanuph — Mrs.  Colonel  W^igsby — Miss  Bolo." 

Mr.  Pickwick  bowed  to  each  of  the  ladies,  and  finding  escape  impos- 
sible, cut.  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Miss  Bolo  against  Lady  Snuphanuph  and 
Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby. 


382  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Just  as  the  trump  card  was  turned  up,  at  the  commencement  of  the 
second  deal,  two  young  ladies  hurried  into  the  room,  and  took  their 
stations  on  either  side  of  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby's  chair,  where  they 
waited  patiently  until  the  hand  was  over. 

"  Now,  Jane,"  said  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby,  turning  to  one  of  the  girls, 
*'  what  is  it  ?" 

"  I  came  to  ask.  Ma,  whether  I  might  dance  with  the  youngest  Mr, 
Crawley,"  whispered  the  prettier  and  younger  of  the  two. 

"  Good  God,  Jane,  how  can  you  think  of  such  things  !"  replied  the 
mamma,  indignantly.  "  Haven't  you  repeatedly  heard  that  his  father 
has  only  eight  hundred  a-year,  which  dies  with  him  ?  I  am  ashamed 
of  you.     Not  on  any  account." 

"  Ma,"  whispered  the  other,  who  was  much  older  than  her  sister, 
and  very  insipid  and  artificial,  "  Lord  Mutanhed  has  been  introduced 
to  me.     I  said  I  thought  I  wasn't  engaged,  Ma." 

"  You're  a  sweet  pet,  my  love,"  replied  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby,  tap- 
ping her  daughter's  cheek  with  her  fan,  "  and  are  always  to  be  trusted. 
He's  immensely  rich,  my  dear.  Bless  you."  With  these  words,  Mrs. 
Colonel  Wugsby  kissed  her  eldest  daughter  most  affectionately,  and 
frowning  in  a  warning  manner  upon  the  other,  sorted  her  cards. 

Poor  Mr.  Pickwick  !  he  had  never  played  with  three  thorough-paced 
female  card-players  before.  They  were  so  desperately  sharp  that  they 
quite  frightened  him.  If  he  played  a  wrong  card.  Miss  Bolo  looked  a  small 
armoury  of  daggers  ;  if  he  stopped  to  consider  which  was  the  right  one. 
Lady  Snuphanuph  would  throw  herself  back  in  her  chair,  and  smile  with 
a  mingled  glance  of  impatience  and  pity  to  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby,  at 
which  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby  would  shrug  up  her  shoulders,  and  cough, 
as  much  as  to  say  she  wondered  whether  he  ever  would  begin.  Then, 
at  the  end  of  every  hand,  Miss  Bolo  would  inquire  with  a  dismal  coun- 
tenance and  reproachful  sigh,  why  Mr.  Pickwick  had  not  returned  that 
diamond,  or  led  the  club,  or  roughed  the  spade,  or  finessed  the  heart,  or 
led  through  the  honour,  or  brought  out  the  ace,  or  played  up  to  the 
king,  or  some  such  thing ;  and  in  reply  to  all  these  grave  charges,  Mr. 
Pickwick  would  be  wholly  unable  to  plead  any  justification  whatever; 
having  by  this  time  forgotten  all  about  the  game.  People  came  and 
looked  on,  too,  which  made  Mr.  Pickwick  nervous.  Besides  all  this, 
there  was  a  great  deal  of  distracting  conversation  near  the  table,  be- 
tween Angelo  Bantam  and  the  two  Miss  Malinters,  who,  being  single 
and  singular,  paid  great  court  to  the  Master  of  the  Ceremonies,  in  the 
hope  of  getting  a  stray  partner  now  and  then.  All  these  things,  com- 
bined with  the  noises  and  interruptions  of  constant  comings  in  and 
goings  out,  made  Mr.  Pickwick  play  rather  badly ;  the  cards  were 
against  him,  also,  and  when  they  left  off  at  ten  minutes  past  eleven. 
Miss  Bolo  rose  from  the  table  considerably  agitated,  and  went  straight 
home  in  a  flood  of  tears,  and  a  sedan  chair. 

Being  joined  by  his  friends,  who  one  and  all  protested  that  they  had 
scarcely  ever  spent  a  more  pleasant  evening,  Mr.  Pickwick  accompanied 
them  to  theWhite  Hart,  and  having  soothed  his  feelings  with  some- j 
thing  hot,  went  to  bed,  and  to  sleep,  almost  simultaneously. 


( 


^ 


1 


« 


?:■  i 


THE    PICKWICK    ClUB.  3S3 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  CH(EF  FEATURES  OF  WHICH,  WILL  BE  FOUND  TO  BE  AN 
AUTHENTIC  VERSION  OF  THE  LEGEND  OF  PRINCE  BLADUD,  AND 
A  MOST  EXTRAORDINARY  CALAMITY  THAT  BEFEL  MR.  WINKLE. 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  conteraplated  a  stay  of  at  least  two  months  in 
Bath,  he  deemed  it  advisable  to  take  private  lodgings  for  himself 
and  friends  for  that  period  ;  and  as  a  favourable  opportunity  offered  for 
their  securing,  on  moderate  terms,  the  upper  portion  of  a  house  in  the 
Royal  Crescent,  which  was  larger  than  they  required,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Dowler  offered  to  relieve  them  of  a  bed-room  and  sitting-room.  This 
proposition  was  at  once  accepted,  and  in  three  days'  time  they  were 
all  located  in  their  new  abode,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  began  to  drink  the 
waters  with  the  utmost  assiduity.  Mr.  Pickwick  took  them  systema- 
tically. He  drank  a  quarter  of  a  pint  before  breakfast,  and  then  walked 
up  a  hill ;  and  another  quarter  of  a  pint  after  breakfast,  and  then 
walked  down  a  hill ;  and  after  every  fresh  quarter  of  a  pint,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick declared,  in  the  most  solemn  and  emphadc  terms,  that  he  felt  a 
great  deal  better,  whereat  his  friends  were  very  much  delighted,  though 
they  had  not  been  previously  aware  that  there  was  any  thing  the 
matter  with  him. 

The  great  pump-room  is  a  spacious  saloon,  ornamented  with  Corin 
thian  pillars,  and  a  music  gallery  and  a  Tompion  clock,  and  a  statue  oi 
Nash,  and  a  golden  inscription,  to  which  all  the  water-drinkers  should 
attend,  for  it  appeals  to  them  in  the  cause  of  a  deserving  charity.  There 
is  a  large  bar  with  a  marble  vase,  out  of  which  the  pumper  gets  the  water, 
and  a  number  of  yellow-looking  tumblers,  out  of  which  the  company 
get  it ;  and  it  is  a  most  edifying  and  satisfactory  sight  to  behold  the 
perseverance  and  gravity  with  which  they  swallow  it.  There  are  baths 
near  at  hand,  in  which  a  part  of  the  company  wash  themselves,  and  a 
band  plays  afterwards,  to  congratulate  the  remainder  on  their  having 
done  so.  There  is  another  pump-room,  into  which  infirm  ladies  and 
gentlemen  are  wheeled,  in  such  an  astonishing  variety  of  chairs  and 
chaises,  that  any  adventurous  individual  who  goes  in  with  the  regu- 
lar number  of  toes,  is  in  imminent  danger  of  coming  out  without 
them ;  and  there  is  a  third,  into  which  the  quiet  people  go,  for  it  is 
less  noisy  than  either.  There  is  an  immensity  of  promenading,  on 
crutches  and  off,  with  sticks  and  without :  and  a  great  deal  of  con- 
versation, and  liveliness,  and  pleasantry. 

Every  morning,  the  regular  water-drinkers,  Mr.  Pick\^'ick  among  the 
number,  met  each  other  in  the  pump-room,  took  their  quarter  of  a  pint, 
and  walked  constitutionally.  At  the  afternoon*s  promenade  Lord 
Mutanhed,  and  the    Honourable   Mr.  CrushtOD,   the   Dowager  Lady 


384  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS  Of 

Sunphanuph,  Mrs.  Colonel  Wugsby,  and  all  the  great  people,  and  all  the 
morning  water-drinkers,  met  in  grand  assemblage.  After  this,  they 
walked  out,  or  drove  out,  or  were  pushed  out  in  bath  chairs,  and  met 
one  another  again.  After  this,  the  gentlemen  went  to  the  reading- 
rooms  and  met  divisions  of  the  mass.  After  this,  they  went  home. 
If  it  were  theatre  night,  perhaps  they  met  at  the  theatre ;  if  it  were 
assembly  night,  they  met  at  the  rooms  ;  and  if  it  were  neither,  they 
met  the  next  day — a  very  pleasant  routine,  with  perhaps  a  slight  tinge 
of  sameness. 

lyir.  Pickwick  was  sitting  up  by  himself,  after  a  day  spent  in  this 
manner,  making  entries  in  his  journal,  his  friends  having  retired  to 
bed,  when  he  was  roused  by  a  gentle  tap  at  the  room  door. 

'*  Beg  your  pardon.  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Craddock,  the  landlady,  peeping 
in ;  "  but  did  you  want  anything  more,  Sir  ?" 

"  Nothing  more,  Ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'*  My  young  girl  is  gone  to  bed.  Sir ;"  said  Mrs.  Craddock,  "  and 
Mr.  Dowler  is  good  enough  to  say  that  he'll  sit  up  for  Mrs.  Dowler, 
as  the  party  isn't  expected  to  be  over  till  late  ;  so  I  was  thinking  that 
if  you  wanted  nothing  more,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  would  go  to  bed." 

"  By  all  means,  Ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Wish  you  good  night,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Craddock. 

"  Good  night.  Ma'am,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Mrs.  Craddock  closed  the  door,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  resumed  his 
writing. 

In  half  an  hour's  time,  the  entries  were  concluded.  Mr.  Pickwick 
carefully  rubbed  the  last  page  on  the  blotting  paper,  shut  up  the  book, 
wiped  his  pen  on  the  bottom  of  the  inside  of  his  coat  tail,  and  opened 
the  drawer  of  the  inkstand  to  put  it  carefully  away.  There  were  a 
couple  of  sheets  of  writing  paper,  pretty  closely  written  over,  in  thel 
inkstand  drawer,  and  they  were  folded  so,  that  the  title,  which  was  in 
a  good  round  hand,  was  fully  disclosed  to  him.  Seeing  from  this,  that 
it  was  no  private  document ;  and  as  it  seemed  to  relate  to  Bath,  and 
was  very  short,  Mr.  Pickwick  unfolded  it,  lighted  his  bed-room  candle 
that  it  might  burn  up  well  by  the  time  he  finished ;  and  drawing  his 
chair  nearer  the  fire,  read  as  follows : — 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  585 


Wje  ®:tue  llegentr  of  ^Prince  33latrulr. 


"Less  than  two  hundred  years  ag^one,  on  one  of  the  public  baths  in 
this  city,  there  appeared  an  inscription  in  honour  of  its  mighty  founder, 
the  renowned  Prince  Bladud.     That  inscription  is  now  erased. 

"■  For  many  hundred  years  before  that  time,  there  had  been  handed 
down  from  age  to  age,  an  old  legend,  that  the  illustrious  Prince  being 
afflicted  witn  leprosy,  on  his  return  from  reaping  a  rich  harvest  of 
knowledge  in  ancient  Athens,  shunned  the  court  of  his  royal  father, 
and  consorted  moodily,  with  husbandmen  and  pigs.  Among  the  herd 
(so  said  the  legend)  was  a  pig  of  grave  and  solemn  countenance,  with 
whom  the  Prince  had  a  fellow  feeling — for  he  too  was  wise — a  pig  of 
thoughtful  and  reserved  demeanour ;  an  animal  superior  to  his  fellows, 
whose  grunt  was  terrible,  and  whose  bite  was  sharp  ;  the  young  Prince 
sighed  deeply  as  he  looked  upon  the  countenance  of  the  majestic 
swine; — he  thought  of  his  royal  father,  and  his  eyes  were  bedewed 
with  tears. 

"  This  sagacious  pig  was  fond  of  bathing  in  rich,  moist  mud.  Not 
in  summer  as  common  pigs  do  now,  to  cool  themselves,  and  did  even 
in  those  distant  ages  (which  is  a  proof  that  the  light  of  civilisation  had 
already  begun  to  dawn,  though  feebly) — but  in  the  cold  sharp  days  of 
winter.  His  coat  was  ever  so  sleek,  and  his  complexion  so  clear,  that 
the  Prince  resolved  to  essay  Lhe  purifying  qualities  of  the  same  water 
that  his  friend  resorted  to.  Ke  made  the  trial.  Beneath  that  black 
mud,  bubbled  the  hot  springs  of  Bath.  He  washed,  and  was  cured. 
Hastening  to  his  father's  court,  he  paid  his  best  respects,  and  returning 
quickly  hither,  founded  this  city,  and  its  famous  baths. 

"  He  sought  the  pig  with  all  the  ardour  of  their  early  friendship — 
but,  alas  I  the  waters  had  been  his  death.  He  had  imprudently  taken 
a  bath  at  too  high  a  temperature,  and  the  natural  philosopher  was  no 
more !  He  was  succeeded  by  Pliny,  who  also  fell  a  victim  to  his  thirst 
^or  knowledge. 

"  This  was  the  legend.     Listen  to  the  true  one. 

"  A  great  many  centuries  since,  there  flourished  in  great  state  the 
famous  and  renowned  Lud  Hudibras,  king  of  Britain.  He  was  a 
mighty  monarch.  The  earth  shook  when  he  walked,  he  was  so  very 
stout.  His  people  basked  in  the  light  of  his  countenance,  it  was  so 
red  and  glowing.  He  was,  indeed,  every  inch  a  king.  And  there 
were  a  good  many  inches  of  him  too,  for  although  he  was  not  very  tall, 
he  was  a  remarkable  size  round,  and  the  inches  that  he  wanted  in 
height,  he  made  up  in  circumference.  If  any  degenerate  monarch  of 
modern  times  could  be  in  any  way  compared  with  him,  I  should  say 
the  venerable  King  Cole  would  be  that  illustrious  potentate. 

"  This  good  king  had  a  queen,  who  eighteen  years  before,  had  had  a 
son,  who  was  called  Bladud.     He  was  sent  to  a  preparatory  seminary  in 


386  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OP 

his  father's  dominions  until  he  was  ten  years  old,  and  was  then  dis- 
patched in  charge  of  a  trusty  messenger,  to  a  finishing  school  at 
Athens  ;  and  as  there  was  no  extra  charge  for  remaining  during  the 
holidays,  and  no  notice  required  previous  to  the  removal  of  a  pupil, 
there  he  remained  for  eight  long  years,  at  the  expiration  of  which 
time,  the  king  his  father  sent  the  lord  chamberlain  over,  to  settle  the 
bill,  and  to  bring  him  home,  which  the  lord  chamberlain  doing,  was 
received  with  shouts,  and  pensioned  immediately. 

"  When  King  Lud  saw  the  Prince  his  son,  and  found  he  had  grown 
up  such  a  fine  young  man,  he  perceived  at  once  what  a  grand  thing  it 
would  be  to  have  him  married  without  delay,  so  that  his  children 
might  be  the  means  of  perpetuating  the  glorious  race  of  Lud  down  to 
the  very  latest  ages  of  the  world.  With  this  view,  he  sent  a  special 
embassy,  composed  of  great  noblemen  who  had  nothing  particular  to 
do,  and  wanted  lucrative  employment,  to  a  neighbouring  king^  and 
demanded  his  fair  daughter  in  marriage  for  his  son,  stating  at  the  same 
time  that  he  was  anxious  to  be  on  the  most  affectionate  terms  with  his 
brother  and  friend,  but  that  if  they  couldn't  agree  in  arranging  this 
marriage,  he  should  be  under  the  unpleasant  necessity  of  invading  his 
kingdom,  and  putting  his  eyes  out.  To  this,  the  other  king,  (who  was 
the  weaker  of  the  two)  replied  that  he  was  very  much  obliged  to  his 
friend  and  brother  for  all  his  goodness  and  magnanimity,  and  that  his 
daughter  was  quite  ready  to  be  married,  whenever  Prince  Bladud  liked 
to  come  and  fetch  her. 

"  This  answer  no  sooner  reached  Britain,  than  the  whole  nation  were 
transported  with  joy.  Nothing  was  heard  on  all  sides  but  the  sounds  of 
feasting  and  revelry, — except  the  chinking  of  money  as  it  was  paid  in  by 
the  people  to  the  collector  of  the  Royal  Treasures,  to  defray  the  expenses 
of  the  happy  ceremony.  It  was  upon  this  occasion  that  King  Lud 
seated  on  the  top  of  his  throne  in  full  council,  rose  in  the  exuberance 
of  his  feelings,  and  commanded  the  lord  chief  justice  to  order  in  the 
richest  wines  and  the  court  minstrels:  an  act  of  graciousness  which 
has  been,  through  the  ignorance  of  traditionary  historians,  attributed  to 
King  Cole,  in  those  celebrated  lines  in  which  his  majesty  is  repre- 
sented as 

Calling  for  his  pipe,  and  calling  for  his  pot, 
And  calling  for  his  fiddlers  three. 

Which  is  an  obvious  injustice  to  the  memory  of  King  Lud,  and  a  dis- 
honest exaltation  of  the  virtues  of  King  Cole= 

'<  But  in  the  midst  of  all  this  festivity  and  rejoicing,  there  was  one 
individual  present,  who  tasted  not  when  the  sparkling  wines  were  poured 
forth,  and  who  danced  not  when  the  minstrels  played.  This  was  no 
other  than  Prince  Bladud  himself,  in  honour  of  whose  happiness  a 
whole  people  were  at  that  very  moment,  straining  alike  their  throats 
and  purse-strings.  The  truth  was,  that  the  Prince,  forgetting  the 
undoubted  right  of  tht  minister  for  foreign  affairs  to  fall  in  love  on  his 
behalf,  had,  contrary  to  every  precedent  of  policy  and  diplomacy, 
already  fallen  in  love  on  his  own  account,  and  privately  contracted 
himself  unto  the  fair  daughter  of  a  noble  Athenian. 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  387 

"  Hero  we  have  a  striking  example  of  one  of  the  manifold  advantages 
of  civilisation  and  refinement.  If  the  Prince  had  lived  in  later  days,  ho 
might  at  once  have  married  the  ohject  of  his  father's  choice,  and  then 
set  himself  seriously  to  work,  to  relieve  himself  of  the  burden  which 
rested  heavily  upon  him.  He  might  have  endeavoured  to  break  her 
heart  by  a  systematic  course  of  insult  and  neglect ;  or,  if  the  spirit  of 
her  sex,  and  a  proud  consciousness  of  her  many  wrongs  had  upheld  her 
under  this  ill  treatment,  he  miffht  have  sought  to  take  her  life,  and 
so  get  rid  of  her  effectually.  But  neither  mode  of  relief  suggested 
itself  to  Prince  Bladud — so  he  solicited  a  private  audience,  and  told  his 
father. 

*'  It  is  an  old  prerogative  of  kings  to  govern  everything  but  their 
passions.  King  Lud  flew  into  a  frightful  rage,  tossed  his  crown  up  to 
the  ceiling,  and  caught  it  again — for  in  those  days  kings  kept  their 
crowns  on  their  heads,  and  not  in  the  Tower — stamped  the  ground, 
rapped  his  forehead,  wondered  why  his  own  flesh  and  blood  rebelled 
against  him,  and,  finally,  calling  in  his  guards,  ordered  the  Prince  away 
to  instant  confinement  in  a  lofty  turret — a  course  of  treatment  which 
the  kings  of  old  very  generally  pursued  towards  their  sons  when  their 
matrimonial  inclinations  did  not  happen  to  point  to  the  same  quar- 
ter as  their  own. 

"  When  Prince  Bladud  had  been  shut  up  in  the  lofty  turret  for  the 
greater  part  of  a  year,  with  no  better  prospect  before  his  bodily  eyes 
than  a  stone  wall,  or  before  his  mental  vision  than  prolonged  imprison- 
ment, he  naturally  began  to  ruminate  on  a  plan  of  escape,  which  after 
months  of  preparation  he  managed  to  accomplish ;  considerately  leaving 
his  dinner  knife  in  the  heart  of  his  gaoler,  lest  the  poor  fellow  (who 
had  a  family)  should  be  considered  privy  to  his  flight,  and  punished 
accordingly  by  the  infuriated  king. 

''  The  monarch  was  frantic  at  the  loss  of  his  son.  He  knew  not 
on  whom  to  vent  his  grief  and  wrath,  until  fortunately  bethinking 
himself  of  the  Lord  Chamberlain  who  had  brought  him  home,  he  struck 
off  his  pension  and  his  head  together. 

*'  Meanwhile,  the  young  Prince  effectually  disguised,  wandered  on 
foot  through  his  father's  dominions,  cheered  and  supported  in  all  his 
hardships  by  sweet  thoughts  of  the  Athenian  maid,  who  was  the  inno- 
cent cause  of  his  weary  trials.  One  day  he  stopped  to  rest  in  a  country 
village ;  and  seeing  that  there  were  gay  dances  going  forward  on  the 
green,  and  gay  faces  passing  to  and  fro,  ventured  to  inquire  of  a  reveller 
who  stood  near  him,  the  reason  for  this  rejoicing. 

'*  *  Know  you  not,  O  stranger,'  was  the  reply,  *  of  the  recent  procla- 
mation of  our  gracious  king  ?  * 

"  *  Proclamation  !  No.  What  proclamation  ?  '  rejoined  the  Prince 
— for  he  had  travelled  along  the  bye  and  little-frequented  ways,  and 
knew  nothing  of  what  had  passed  upon  the  public  roads,  such  as  they 
were. 

"  •  Why, '  replied  the  peasant,  *  the  foreign  lady  that  our  Prince 
wished  to  wed,  is  married  to  a  foreign  noble  of  her  own  country;  and 
the  king  proclaims  the  fact,  and  a  great  public  festival  besides  ;  for  now 

F   F 


388  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

of  course,  Prince  Bladud  will  come  back  and  marry  the  lady  his  father 
chose,  who  they  say  is  as  beautiful  as  the  noon-day  sun.  Your 
health,  Sir.    God  save  the  King.' 

"  The  Prince  remained  to  hear  no  more.  He  fled  from  the  spot, 
and  plunged  into  the  thickest  recesses  of  a  neighbouring  wood.  On, 
on  he  wandered,  night  and  day,  beneath  the  blazing  sun,  and  the  cold 
pale  moon  ;  through  the  dry  heat  of  noon,  and  the  damp  cold  of  night; 
in  the  grey  light  of  morn,  and  the  red  glare  of  eve.  So  heedless  was 
he  of  time  or  object,  that  being  bound  for  Athens,  he  wandered  as  far 
out  of  his  way  as  Bath. 

"  There  was  no  city  where  Bath  stands,  then.  There  was  no  vestige 
of  human  habitation,  or  sign  of  man's  resort,  to  bear  the  name  ;  but 
there  was  the  same  noble  country,  the  same  broad  expanse  of  hill  and 
dale,  the  same  beautiful  channel  stealing  on,  far  away  ;  the  same  lofty 
mountains  which,  like  the  troubles  of  life,  viewed  at  a  distance,  and 
partially  obscured  by  the  bright  mist  of  its  morning,  lose  their  rugged- 
ness  and  asperity,  and  seem  all  ease  and  softness.  Moved  by  the  gentle 
beauty  of  the  scene,  the  Prince  sank  upon  the  green  turf,  and  bathed 
his  swollen  feet  in  his  tears. 

"  *  Oh  !'  said  the  unhappy  Bladud,  clasping  his  hands,  and  mourn- 
fully raising  his  eyes  towards  the  sky,  *  would  that  my  wanderings 
might  end  here ;  would  that  these  grateful  tears  with  which  I  now 
mourn  hope  misplaced,  and  love  despised,  might  flow  in  peace  for 
ever  V 

"  The  wish  was  heard.  It  was  in  the  time  of  the  heathen  deities, 
who  used  occasionally  to  take  people  at  their  words,  with  a  promptness, 
in  some  cases  extremely  awkward.  The  ground  opened  beneath  the 
Prince's  feet ;  he  sunk  into  the  chasm,  and  instantaneously  it  closed 
upon  his  head  for  ever,  save  where  his  hot  tears  welled  up  through 
the  earth,  and  where  they  have  continued  to  gush  forth  ever  since. 

"  It  is  observable  that,  to  this  day,  large  numbers  of  elderly  ladies  and 
gentlemen  who  have  been  disappointed  in  procuring  partners,  and  al- 
most as  many  young  ones  who  are  anxious  to  obtain  them,  repair  an- 
nually to  Bath  to  drink  the  waters,  from  which  they  derive  much 
strength  and  comfort.  This  is  most  complimentary  to  the  virtue  o* 
Prince  Bladud's  tears,  and  strongly  corroborative  of  the  veracity  of  this 
legend." 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  389 

Mr  Pickwick  yarned  several  times  when  he  had  arrived  at  the  end 
of  this  little  manuscript,  carefully  refolded,  and  replaced  it  in  the  ink- 
stand drawer,  and  then,  with  a  countenance  expressive  of  the  utmost 
weariness,  lighted  his  chamber  candle,  and  went  up  stairs  to  bed. 

He  stopped  at  Mr.  Dowler's  door,  according  to  custom,  and  knocked, 
to  say,  good  night. 

"  Ah  !"  said  Dowler,  "  going  to  bed  ? — IwishI  was.  Dismal  night 
Windy  ;  isn'<;  it  ?" 

*'  Very,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.      *'  Good  night." 

«  Good  night.'* 

Mr.  Pickwick  went  to  his  bedchamber,  and  Mr.  Dowler  resumed  his 
seat  before  the  fire,  in  fulfilment  of  his  rash  promise  to  sit  up  till  his 
wife  came  home. 

There  are  few  things  more  worrying  than  sitting  up  for  somebody, 
especially  if  that  somebody  be  at  a  party.  You  cannot  help  thinking 
how  quickly  the  time  passes  with  them,  which  drags  so  heavily  with 
you ;  and  the  more  you  think  of  this,  the  more  your  hopes  of  their 
speedy  arrival  decline.  Clocks  tick  so  loud,  too,  when  you  are  sitting 
up  alone,  and  you  seem — at  least  we  always  do — as  if  you  had  got  an 
under  garment  of  cobwebs  on.  First,  something  tickles  your  right 
knee,  and  then  the  same  sensation  irritates  your  left.  You  have  no 
sooner  changed  your  position,  than  it  comes  again  in  the  arms ;  and 
when  you  have  fidgeted  your  limbs  into  all  sorts  of  queer  shapes,  you 
have  a  sudden  relapse  in  the  nose,  which  you  rub  as  if  to  rub  it  oflf — as 
there  is  no  doubt  you  would,  if  you  could.  Eyes,  too,  are  mere  per- 
sonal inconveniences,  and  the  wick  of  one  candle  gets  an  inch  and  a 
half  long,  while  you  are  snuffing  the  other.  These,  and  various  other 
little  nervous  annoyances,  render  sitting  up  for  a  length  of  time  after 
every  body  else  has  gone  to  bed,  any  thing  but  a  cheerful  amusement. 

This  was  just  Mr.  Dowler's  opinion,  as  he  sat  before  the  fire,  and 
felt  honestly  indignant  with  all  the  inhuman  people  at  the  party,  who 
were  keeping  him  up.  He  was  not  put  into  better  humour  either,  by 
the  reflection  that  he  had  taken  it  into  his  head,  early  in  the  evening, 
to  think  he  had  got  an  ache  there,  and  so  stopped  at  home.  At  length, 
after  several  droppings  asleep,  and  fallings  forward  towards  the  bars, 
and  catchings  backward  soon  enough  to  prevent  being  branded  in  the 
face,  Mr.  Dowler  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  just  throw  himself 
on  the  bed  in  the  back-room  and  think — not  sleep,  of  course. 

"  I'm  a  heavy  sleeper,"  said  Mr.  Dowler,  as  he  flung  himself  on  the 
bed.  **  I  must  keep  awake ; — I  suppose  I  shall  hear  a  knock  here. 
Yes.  I  thought  so.  I  can  hear  the  watchman.  There  he  goes. 
Fainter  now  though.  A  little  fainter.  He's  turning  the  corner. 
Ah  !  "  When  Mr.  Dowler  arrived  at  this  point,  he  turned  the  corner 
at  which  he  had  been  so  long  hesitating,  and  fell  fast  asleep. 

Just  as  the  clock  struck  three,  there  were  blown  into  the  crescent  a 
sedan-chair,  with  Mrs.  Dowler  inside,  borne  by  one  short  fat  chairman, 
and  one  long  thin  one,  who  had  had  much  ado  all  the  way  to  keep  their 
bodies  perpendicular,  to  say  nothing  of  the  chair;  but  on  that  high 
ground,  and  in  the  crescent,  which  the  wind  swept  round  and  round  as 

r  F  2 


390  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

if  it  were  going  to  tear  the  paving  stones  up,  its  furj^  was  tremendous. 
They  were  very  glad  to  set  the  chair  down,  and  give  a  good  round 
loud  double-knock  at  the  street  door. 

They  waited  some  time,  but  nobody  came. 

*'  Servants  is  in  the  arms  o'  Porpus,  I  think,"  said  the  short  chair- 
man, warming  his  hands  at  the  attendant  linkboy's  torch. 

**  I  wish  he'd  give  'em  a  squeeze  and  wake  'em,"  observed  the  long 
one. 

"Knock  again,  will  you,  if  you  please?"  cried  Mrs.  Dowler  from  the 
chair.      "  Knock  two  or  three  times,  if  you  please." 

The  short  man  was  quite  willing  to  get  the  job  over,  as  soon  as 
possible ;  so  he  stood  on  the  step,  and  gave  four  or  five  most  startling 
double  knocks,  of  eight  or  ten  knocks  a  piece,  while  the  long  man  went 
into  the  road,  and  looked  up  at  the  windows  for  a  light. 

Nobody  came.     It  was  all  as  silent  and  as  dark  as  ever. 

"  Dear  me  I  "  said  Mrs.  Dowler.  "  You  must  knock  again,  if  you 
please." 

"  Their  ain't  a  bell,  is  there.  Ma'am?  "  said  the  short  chairman. 

"  Yes,  there  is,"  interposed  the  link-boy,  "  I've  been  a  ringing  at  it 
€ver  so  long." 

"  It's  only  a  handle,"  said  Mrs.  Dowler,  «'  the  wire's  broken." 

"  I  wish  the  servant's  heads  wos,"  growled  the  long  man. 

"  I  must  trouble  you  to  knock  again,  if  you  please,"  said  Mrs.  Dow- 
ler with  the  utmost  politeness. 

The  short  man  did  knock  again  several  times,  without  producing  the 
smallest  effect.  The  tall  man,  growing  very  impatient,  then  relieved 
him,  and  kept  on  perpetually  knocking  double-knocks  of  two  loud 
knocks  each,  like  an  insane  postman. 

At  length  Mr.  Winkle  began  to  dream  that  he  was  at  a  club,  and 
that  the  members  being  very  refractory,  the  chairman  was  obliged  to 
hammer  the  table  a  good  deal  to  preserve  order ;  then  he  had  a  con- 
fused notion  of  an  auction  room  where  there  were  no  bidders,  and  the 
auctioneer  was  buying  everything  in  ;  and  ultimately  he  began  to 
think  it  just  within  the  bound-s  of  possibility  that  somebody  might  be 
knocking  at  the  street  door.  To  make  quite  certain,  however,  he  re- 
mained quiet  in  bed  for  ten  minutes  or  so,  and  listened ;  and  when  he 
had  counted  two  or  three  and  thirty  knocks,  he  felt  quite  satisfied,  and 
gave  himself  a  great  deal  of  credit  for  being  so  wakeful. 

"  Rap  rap — rap  rap — rap  rap — ra,  ra,  ra,  ra,  ra,  rap,"  went  the  knocker. 

Mr.  Winkle  jumped  out  of  bed,  wondering  very  much  what  could 
possibly  be  the  matter,  and  hastily  putting  on  his  stockings  and  slippers, 
folded  his  dressing  gown  round  him,  lighted  a  flat  candle  from  the  rush- 
light that  was  burning  in  the  fire-place,  and  hurried  down  stairs. 

^'  Here's  somebody  comin'  at  last,  Ma'am,"  said  the  short  chairman. 

"  I  wish  I  wos  behind  him  vith  a  bradawl,"  muttered  the  long  one.     \ 

"  Who's  there  ?"  cried  Mr.  Winkle,  undoing  the  chain. 

*'  Don't  stop  to  ask  questions,  cast-iron  head,"  replied  the  long  man, 
with  great  disgust ;  taking  it  for  granted  that  the  inquirer  was  a  foot- 
man •  "  open  the  door.** 


i 


^\ 


^4* 


\ 


f 


» 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB  391 

"  Come,  look  sharp,  timber  eye-lids,"  added  the  other,  enconrag^inpiy. 

Mr.  Winkle,  being  half  asleep,  obeyed  the  command  mechanically, 
opened  the  door  a  little,  and  peeped  out.  The  first  thine:  he  saw  was 
the  red  glare  of  the  link-boy's  torch.  Startled  by  the  sudden  fear  that 
the  house  might  be  on  fire,  he  hastily  threw  the  door  wide  open,  and 
holding  the  candle  above  his  head,  stared  eagerly  before  him,  not  quite 
certain  whether  what  he  saw  was  a  sedan  chair  or  a  fire  engine.  At 
this  instant  there  came  a  violent  gust  of  wind :  the  light  was  blown 
out;  Mr.  Winkle  felt  himself  irre-sistibly  impelled  on  to  the  steps,  and 
the  door  blew  to,  with  a  loud  crash. 

"  Well,  young  man,  now  you  have  done  it,"  said  the  short  chairman. 

Mr.  Winkle,  catching  sight  of  a  lady's  face  at  the  window  of  the 
sedan,  turned  hastily  round,  plied  the  knocker  with  all  his  might  and 
main,  and  called  frantically  upon  the  chairman  to  take  the  chair  away 
again. 

"  Take  it  away,  take  it  away,"  cried  Mr.  Winkle.  "  Here's  some- 
body coming  out  of  another  house  ;  put  me  into  the  chair.  Hide  me — 
do  something  with  me." 

All  this  time  he  was  shivering  with  cold,  and  every  time  he  raised 
his  hand  to  the  knocker  the  wind  took  the  dressing  gown  in  a  most 
unpleasant  manner. 

"  The  people  are  coming  down  the  Crescent  now.  There  are  ladies 
with  *em  ;  cover  me  up  with  something.  Stand  before  me,"  roared 
Mr.  W'inkle.  But  the  chairmen  were  too  much  exhausted  with  laugh- 
ing to  afford  him  the  slightest  assistance,  and  the  ladies  were  every 
moment  approaching  nearer  and  nearer. 

Mr.  Winkle  gave  a  last  hopeless  knock ;  the  ladies  were  only  a  {ew 
doors  off.  He  threw  away  the  extinguished  candle  which  all  this  time 
he  had  held  above  his  head,  and  fairly  bolted  into  the  sedan  chair  where 
Mrs.  Dowler  was. 

Now,  Mrs.  Craddock  had  heard  the  knocking  and  the  voices  at  last ; 
and,  just  waiting  to  put  something  smarter  on  her  head  than  her  night- 
cap, ran  down  into  the  front  drawing-room  to  make  sure  that  it  was  the 
right  party,  and  threw  up  the  wi-ndow-sash  just  as  Mr.  Winkle  was 
rushing  into  the  chair ;  she  no  sooner  caught  sight  of  what  was  going 
forward  below,  than  she  raised  a  vehement  and  dismal  shriek,  and  im- 
plored Mr.  Dowler  to  get  up  directly,  for  his  wife  was  running  away 
with  another  gentleman. 

Upon  this,  Mr.  Dowler  bounced  off  the  bed  as  abruptly  as  an  India- 
rubber  ball,  and  rushing  into  the  front  room,  arrived  at  one  window  just 
as  IMr.  Pickwick  threw  up  the  other,  when  the  first  object  that  met  the 
gaze  of  both,  was  Mr.  Winkle  bolting  into  the  sedan-chair. 

"Watchman,"  shouted  Dowler  furiously;  "stop  him— hold  him — 
keep  him   tight — shut  him  in,  till  I  come  down.     I'll  cut  his   throat 
— give  me  a  knife — from  ear  to  ear,  Mrs.  Craddock.     I  will!"     And, 
breaking  from  the  shrieking  landlady,  and  from  Mr.  Pickwick;  the  in- 
dignant husband  seized  a  small  supper-knife,  and  tore  into  the  street. 

But  Mr.  Winkle  didn't  wait  for  him.     He  no  sooner  heard  the  hor- 


392  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

rible  threat  of  the  valorous  Dowler,  than  he  bounced  out  of  the  sedan 
quite  as  quickly  as  he  had  bounced  in,  and  throwing^  off  his  shppers  into 
the  road,  took  to  his  heels  and  tore  round  the  Crescent,  hotly  pursued 
by  Dowler  and  the  watchman.  He  kept  ahead ;  the  door  v/as  open  as 
he  came  round  the  second  time,  he  rushed  in,  slammed  it  in  Dowler's 
face,  mounted  to  his  bed-room,  locked  the  door,  piled  a  wash-hand-stand, 
chest  of  drawers  and  table  against  it,  and  packed  up  a  few  necessaries 
ready  for  flight  with  the  first  light  of  morning. 

Dowler  came  up  to  the  outside  of  the  door,  avowed,  through  the 
key-hole,  his  stedfast  detei  mination  of  cutting  Mr.  Winkle's  throat 
next  day ;  and,  after  a  great  confusion  of  voices  in  the  drawing-room, 
amidst  which  that  of  Mr.  Pickwick  was  distinctly  heard  endeavouring 
to  make  peace,  the  inmates  dispersed  to  their  several  bed-chambers,  and 
all  was  quiet  once  more. 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  inquiry  may  be  made,  where  Mr. 
Weller,  was,  all  this  time  ?  We  will  state  where  he  was,  in  the  next 
chapter. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

HONOURABLY   ACCOUNTS  FOR   MR.  WELLER's  ABSENCE,  BY  DESCRIB 
ING    A    SOIREE    TO    WHICH    HE    WAS    INVITED   AND    WENT. — ALSO 
RELATES    HOW    HE    WAS    ENTRUSTED    BY    MR.  PICKWICK    WITH    A 
PRIVATE  MISSION  OF  DELICACY  AND  IMPORTANCE. 

'*  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mrs.  Craddock,  upon  the  morning  of  this  very 
eventful  day,  "  here's  a  letter  for  you." 

"  Wery  odd  that,"  said  Sam,"  I'm  afeerd  there  must  be  somethin'  the 
matter,  for  I  don't  recollect  any  gen'lm'n  in  my  circle  of  acquaintance 
as  is  capable  o'  writin'  one.'* 

*'  Perhaps  something  uncommon  has  taken  place,'*  observed  Mrs. 
Craddock. 

"  It  must  be  somethin'  wery  uncommon  indeed,  as  could  perduce  a 
letter  out  o'  any  friend  o*  mine,"  replied  Sam,  shaking  his  head  dubiously; 
"  nothin'  less  than  a  nat'ral  conwulsion,  as  the  young  gen'lm'n  observed 
ven  he  wos  took  with  fits.  It  can't  be  from  the  gov'ner,"  said  Sam, 
looking  at  the  direction.  "  He  always  prints,  I  know,  'cos  he  learnt 
writin'  from  the  large  bills  in  the  bookin'  oflSces.  It's  a  wery  strange 
thing  now,  where  this  here  letter  can  ha'  come  from." 

As  Sam  said  this,  he  did  what  a  great  many  people  do  when  they  are 
uncertain  about  the  writer  of  a  note, — looked  at  the  seal,  and  then  at  the 
front,  and  then  at  the  back,  and  then  at  the  sides,  and  then  at  the 
superscription ;  and,  as  a  last  resource,  thought  perhaps  he  might  as 
well  look  at  the  inside,  and  try  to  find  out  from  that. 


THE  PICKWICK    CLUB.  393 

'«*  It's  wrote  on  gilt-edged  paper,"  said  Sam,  as  he  unfolded  it,  "  and 
sealed  in  bronze  vax  vith  the  top  of  a  door-key.  Now  for  it."  And, 
with  a  very  grave  face,  Mr.  Weller  slowly  read  as  follows  : 

"  A  select  company  of  the  Bath  footmen  presents  their  compliments 
to  Mr.  Weller,  and  requests  the  pleasure  of  his  company  this  evening, 
to  a  friendly  swarry,  consisting  of  a  boiled  leg  of  mutton  with  the  usual 
trimmings.  The  swarry  to  be  on  table  at  half  past  nine  o'clock  punc- 
tually." 

This  was  inclosed  in  another  note,  which  ran  thus-^ 

"  Mr.  John  Smauker,  the  gentleman  who  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
Mr.  Weller  at  the  house  of  their  mutual  acquaintance,  Mr.  Bantam,  a 
few  days  since,  begs  to  inclose  Mr.  Weller  the  herewith  invitation.  If 
Mr.  Weller  will  call  on  Mr.  John  Smauker  at  nine  o'clock,  Mr.  John 
Smauker  will  have  the  pleasure  of  introducing  Mr.  Weller. 

(Signed)  "  John  Smauker." 

The  envelope  was  directed  to  blank  Weller,  Esq.,  at  Mr.  Pickwick's; 
and  in  a  parenthesis,  in  the  left  hand  corner,  were  the  words  "  airy  bell," 
as  an  instruction  to  the  bearer. 

"  Veil,"  said  Sam,  "  this  is  comin'  it  rayther  powerful,  this  is.  I 
never  heard  a  biled  leg  o'  mutton  called  a  swarry  afore.  I  wonder  wot 
they'd  call  a  roast  one." 

However,  without  waiting  to  debate  the  point,  Sam  at  once  betook 
himself  into  the  presence  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  requested  leave  of  ab- 
sence for  that  evening,  which  was  readily  granted.  With  this  permis- 
sion, and  the  street-door  key,  Sam  Weller  issued  forth  a  little  before  the 
appointed  time,  and  strolled  leisurely  towards  Queen  Square,  which  he 
no  sooner  gained  than  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  beholding  Mr.  John 
Smauker  leaning  his  powdered  head  against  a  lamp  post  at  a  short  dis 
tance  off,  smoking  a  cigar  through  an  amber  tube. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Weller  ?"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker,  raising  his 
hat  gracefully  with  one  hand,  while  he  gently  waved  the  other  in  a  con- 
descending manner.     '<How  do  you  do.  Sir?" 

"  Why,  reasonably  conwalessent,"  replied  Sam.  "  How  do  you  find 
yourself,  my  dear  feller  ?" 

"  Only  so  so,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker. 

"  Ah,  you've  been  a  workin'  too  hard,"  observed  Sara.  "  I  was  fear- 
fol  you  would  ;  it  won't  do,  you  know ;  you  must  not  give  way  to  that 
'ere  uncompromisin'  spirit  o'  your'n." 

"  It's  not  so  much  that,  Mr.  Weller,"  replied  Mr.  John  Smauker, 
**  as  bad  wine ;  I'm  afraid  I've  been  dissipating." 

"  Oh!  that's  it,  is  it  ?"  said  Sam ;  "  that's  a  wery  bad  complaint^  that." 

*'  And  yet  the  temptation,  you  see,  Mr.  Weller,"  observed  Mr.  John 
Smauker. 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure,"  said  Sam. 

"  Plunged  into  the  very  vortex  of  society,  you  know,  Mr.  Weller,** 
said  Mr.  John  Smauker  with  a  sigh 


S94 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


"  Dreadful  indeed  !"  rejoined  Sam. 

"  But  it's  always  the  vvay,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker ;  ♦<  if  your  destiny 
leads  you  into  public  life,  and  public  station,  you  must  expect  to  he 
subjected  to  temptations  which  other  people  is  free  from,  Mr.  Weller." 

*'  Precisely  what  my  uncle  said,  ven  he  vent  into  the  public  lint',"  re- 
marked Sam,  "  and  wery  right  the  old  gen'lm'n  wos,  for  he  drank  his- 
self  to  death  in  somethin'  less  than  a  quarter." 

Mr.  John  Smauker  looked  deeply  indignant  at  any  parallel  being 
drawn  between  himself  and  the  deceased  gentleman  in  question ;  but  as 
Sam's  face  was  in  the  most  immoveable  state  of  calmness,  he  thought 
better  of  it,  and  looked  affable  again. 

"  Perhaps  we  had  better  be  walking,"  said  Mr.  Smauker,  consulting^ 
a  copper  time-piece  which  dwelt  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  watch-pocket, 
and  was  raised  to  the  surface  by  means  of  a  black  string,  with  a  copper 
key  at  the  other  end. 

"  P'raps  ve  had,"  replied  Sam,  "  or  they'll  overdo  the  swarry,  and 
that'll  spile  it." 

*'  Have  you  drank  the  waters,  Mr  Weller  ?"  inquired  his  companion, 
as  they  walked  towards  High  Street. 

"  Once,"  replied  Sam. 

«  What  did  you  think  of  'em,  Sir?" 

**  I  thought  they  wos  particklery  unpleasant  "  replied  Sam. 

"  Ah,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker,  "  you  disliked  the  killibeate  taste, 
perhaps  ?" 

<'  I  don't  know  much  about  that  'ere,"  said  Sam.  "  I  thought  they'd 
a  wery  strong  flavour  o'  warm  flat  irons." 

'*  That  w  the  killibeate,  Mr.  Weller,"  observed  Mr.  John  Smauker, 
contemptuously. 

"  Well,  if  it  is,  it's  a  wery  inexpressive  word,  that's  all,"  said  Sam. 
"  It  may  be,  but  I  ain't  much  in  the  chimical  line  myself,  so  I  can't 
say."  And  here,  to  the  great  horror  of  Mr.  John  Smauker,  Sam  Weller 
began  to  whistle. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker,  agonized 
at  the  exceedingly  ungenteel  sound.     "  Will  you  take  my  arm  ?" 

"  Thankee,  you're  wery  good,  but  I  won't  deprive  you  of  it,"  replied 
Sam.  "  I've  rayther  a  way  o'  puttin'  my  hands  in  my  pockets,  if  it's 
all  the  same  to  you."  As  Sam  said  this,  he  suited  the  action  to  the 
word,  and  whistled  far  louder  than  before. 

"  This  way,"  said  his  new  friend,  apparently  much  relieved  as  they 
turned  down  a  bye  street ;  "  we  shall  soon  be  there." 

"  Shall  we  ?"  said  Sam,  quite  unmoved  by  the  announcement  of  his 
close  vicinity  to  the  select  footmen  of  Bath. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker.     "  Don't  be  alarmed,  Mr.  Weller." 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Sam. 

**  You'll  see  some  veiy  handsome  uniforms,  Mr.  Weller,"  continued 
Mr.  John  Smauker ;  "  and  perhaps  you'll  find  some  of  the  gentlemen 
rather  high  at  first,  you  know,  but  they'll  soon  come  round." 

"  That's  wery  kind  on  'em,"  replied  Sam. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  395 

"  And  you  know,"  resumed  Mr.  John  Smanker,  with  an  air  of  suhlime 
protection  ;  "  you  know,  as  you're  a  stranger,  perhaps  they'll  be  rather 
Lard  upon  you  at  first." 

"  They  won't  be  wery  cruel,  though,  will  they?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  No,  no,"  replied  Mr.  John  Smanker,  pulling  forth  the  fox's  head, 
and  taking  a  gentlemanly  pinch.  "  There  are  some  funny  dogs  among 
us,  and  they  will  have  their  joke,  you  know  ;  but  you  mustn't  mind 
'em,  you  mustn't  mind  'em." 

"  I'll  try  and  bear  up  agin  such  a  reg'lar  knock  down  o'  talent,"  re- 
plied Sam. 

"  That's  right,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker,  putting  up  the  fox's  head, 
and  elevating  his  own ;  "  I'll  stand  by  you." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  a  small  greengrocer's  shop,  which 
Mr.  John  Smauker  entered,  followed  by  Sam,  who,  the  moment  he  got 
behind  him,  relapsed  into  a  series  of  the  very  broadest  and  most  unmi- 
tigated grins,  and  manifested  other  demonstrations  of  being  in  a  highly 
enviable  state  of  inward  merriment. 

Crossing  the  greengrocer's  shop,  and  putting  their  hats  on  the 
stairs  in  the  little  passage  behind  it,  they  walked  into  a  small  parlour ; 
and  here  the  full  splendour  of  the  scene  burst  upon  Mr.  Weller's 
view. 

A  couple  of  tables  were  put  together  in  the  middle  of  the  parlour, 
covered  with  three  or  four  cloths  of  different  ages  and  dates  of  washing, 
arranged  to  look  as  much  like  one  as  the  circumstances  of  the  case 
would  allow.  Upon  these,  were  laid  knives  and  forks  for  six  or  eight 
people.  Some  of  the  knife  handles  were  green,  others  red,  and  a  few 
more  yellow  ;  and  as  all  the  forks  were  black,  the  combination  of  colours 
was  exceedingly  striking.  Plates  for  a  corresponding  number  of  guests 
were  warming  behind  the  fender ;  and  the  guests  themselves  were  warm- 
ing before  it,  the  chief  and  most  important  of  whom  appeared  to  be  a 
stoutish  gentleman  in  a  bright  crimson  coat  with  long  tails,  vividly  red 
breeches,  and  a  cocked  hat,  who  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire, 
and  had  apparently  just  entered,  for  besides  retaining  his  cocked  hat  on 
his  head,  he  carried  in  his  hand  a  high  stick,  such  as  gentlemen  of  his 
profession  usually  elevate  in  a  sloping  position  over  the  roofs  of  car- 
riages. 

"  Smauker,  my  lad — your  fin,"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  cocked 
hat. 

Mr.  Smauker  dovetailed  the  top  joint  of  his  right  hand  little  finger 
into  that  of  the  gentleman  with  the  cocked  hoJt,  and  said  he  was  charmed 
to  see  him  looking  so- well. 

"  Well,  they  tell  me  I  am  looking  pretty  blooming,"  said  the  man 
with  the  cocked  hat,  •*  and  it's  a  wonder,  too.  I've  been  following  our  old 
woman  about,  two  hours  a-day  for  the  last  fortnight,  and  if  a  constant 
contemplation  of  the  manner  in  which  she  hooks-and-eyes  that  infernal 
lavender-coloured  old  gown  of  her's  behind,  isn't  enough  to  throw  any 
\)ody  into  a  low  state  of  despondency  for  life,  stop  my  quarter's  salary." 

At  this,  the  assembled  selections  laughed  very  heartily  ;  aud  one  gen- 


396  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

tleman  in  a  yellow  waistcoat,  with  a  coach  trimming  border,  whispered 
a  neighbour  in  green  foil  smalls,  that  Tuckle  was  in  spirits  to-night. 

"  By  the   by,"  said  Mr.  Tuckle,    *'  Smauker,  my  boy,  you" 

The  remainder  of  the  sentence  was  forwarded  into  Mr.  John  Smauker's 
ear,  by  whisper. 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  I  quite  forgot,"  said  Mr.  John  Smauker.  *^  Gentle- 
men, my  friend  Mr.  Weller/' 

"  Sorry  to  keep  the  fire  off  you,  Weller,*'  said  Mr.  Tuckle,  with  a 
familiar  nod.    "  Hope  you're  not  cold,  Weller." 

*'  Not  by  no  means,  blazes,"  replied  Sam.  '^  It  'ud  be  a  wery  chilly 
subject  as  felt  cold  ven  you  stood  opposit.  You'd  save  coals  if  they 
put  you  behind  the  fender  in  the  vatin'  room  at  a  public  office,  you 
would." 

As  this  retort  appeared  to  convey  rather  a  personal  allusion  to  Mr. 
Tuckle's  crimson  livery,  that  gentleman  looked  majestic  for  a  few  se- 
conds, but  gradually  edging  away  from  the  fire,  broke  into  a  forced 
smile,  and  said  it  wasn't  bad. 

*'  Wery  much  obliged  for  your  good  opinion.  Sir,"  replied  Sam.  *'  We 
shall  get  on  by  degrees,  I  des-say.  We'll  try  a  better  one,  by 
and  by." 

At  this  point  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  a 
gentleman  in  orange-coloured  plush,  accompanied  by  another  selection 
in  purple  cloth,  with  a  great  extent  of  stocking.  The  new  comers 
having  been  welcomed  by  the  old  ones,  Mr.  Tuckle  put  the  question 
that  supper  be  ordered  in,  which  was  carried  unanimously. 

The  greengrocer  and  his  wife  then  arranged  upon  the  table  a  boiled 
leg  of  mutton,  hot,  with  caper  sauce,  turnips,  and  potatoes.  Mr.  Tuckle 
took  the  chair,  and  was  supported  at  the  other  end  of  the  board  by  the 
gentleman  in  orange  plush.  The  greengrocer  put  on  a  pair  of  wash- 
leather  gloves  to  hand  the  plates  with,  and  stationed  himself  behind 
Mr.  Tuckle's  chair. 

"  Harris,"  said  Mr.  Tuckle,  in  a  commanding  tone. 

'*  Sir,"  said  the  greengrocer. 

*'  Have  you  got  your  gloves  on  ?" 

«  Yes,  Sir." 

"  Then  take  the  kiver  off." 

«  Yes,  Sir." 

The  greengrocer  did  as  he  was  told,  with  a  show  of  great  humility, 
and  obsequiously  handed  Mr.  Tuckle  the  carving  knife  ;  in  doing  which, 
he  accidentally  gaped. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that.  Sir  ?"  said  Mr.  Tuckle,  with  great 
asperity. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Sir,"  replied  the  crest-fallen  greengrocer,  "  I 
didn't  mean  to  do  it,  Sir ;  I  was  up  very  late  last  night.  Sir." 

"  I  tell  you  what  my  opinion  of  you  is,  Harris,"  said  Mr.  Tuckle, 
with  a  most  impressive  air,  "  you're  a  wulgar  beast." 

"  I  hope,  gentlemen,"  said  Harris,  "  that  you  w«m't  be  severe  with 
me,  gentlemen.     I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  indeed,  gentlemen,  for 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  397 

your  patronage,  and  also  for  your  recommendations,  gentlemen,  when- 
ever additional  assistance  in  waiting  is  required.     I  hope,  gentlemen,  I 
give  satisfaction." 
^^  "  No,  you  don't,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tuckle.     "  Very  far  from  it.  Sir." 

«  We  consider  you  an  inattentive  reskel,"  said  the  gentleman  in  the 
orange  plush. 

'^  And  a  low  thief,"  added  the  gentleman  in  the  green-foil  smalls. 

"  And  an  unreclaimable  blaygaird,"  added  the  gentleman  in  purple. 

The  poor  greengrocer  bowed  very  humbly  while  these  little  epithets 
were  bestowed  upon  him,  in  the  true  spirit  of  the  very  smallest  tyranny  ; 
and  when  every  body  had  said  something  to  show  his  superiority,  Mr. 
Tuckle  proceeded  to  carve  the  leg  of  mutton,  and  to  help  the  company. 

This  important  business  of  the  evening  had  hardly  commenced,  when 
the  door  was  thrown  briskly  open,  and  another  gentleman  in  a  light-blue 
suit,  and  leaden  buttons,  made  his  appearance. 

«  Against  the  rules,"  said  Mr.  Tuckle.     «'  Too  late,  too  late." 

"  No,  no ;  positively  I  couldn't  help  it,"  said  the  gentleman  in  blue. 
**  I  appeal  to  the  company — an  affair  of  gallantry  now — an  appintment 
at  the  theayter." 

"  Oh,  that  indeed,"  said  the  gentleman  in  the  orange  plush. 

"  Yes ;  raly  now,  honour  bright,"  said  the  man  in  blue.  ''  I  made 
a  promese  to  fetch  our  youngest  daughter  at  half-past  ten,  and  she  is 
such  an  uncauminly  fine  gal,  that  I  raly  hadn't  the  art  to  disappint  her. 
No  offence  to  the  present  company,  Sir,  but  a  petticut,  Sir, — a  petti- 
cut.  Sir,  is  irrevokeahle." 

"  I  begin  to  suspect  there's  something  in  that  quarter,"  said  Tuckle, 
as  the  new  comer  took  his  seat  next  Sam.  "  I've  remarked  once  or 
twice,  that  she  leans  very  heavy  on  your  shoulder  when  she  gets  in  and 
out  of  the  carriage." 

*'  Oh  raly,  raly,  Tuckle,  you  shouldn't,"  said  the  man  in  blue.  "  It's 
not  fair.  I  may  have  said  to  one  or  two  friends  that  she  was  a  very- 
divine  creechure,  and  had  refused  one  or  two  offers  without  any  hobvus 
cause,  but — no,  no,  no,  indeed,  Tuckle — before  strangers,  too^ — it's  not 
right — you  shouldn't.  Delicacy,  my  dear  friend,  delicacy."  And  the 
man  in  blue,  pulling  up  his  neckerchief,  and  adjusting  his  coat  cuffs, 
nodded  and  frowned  as  if  there  were  more  behind  which  he  could  say  if 
he  liked,  but  was  bound  in  honour  to  suppress. 

The  man  in  blue  being  a  light-haired,  stiff-necked,  free  and  easy 
sort  of  footman,  with  a  swaggering  air  and  pert  face,  had  attracted  Mr. 
Weller's  especial  attention  at  first,  but  when  he  began  to  come  out  in 
this  way,  Sam  felt  more  than  ever  disposed  to  cultivate  his  acquaintance ; 
so  he  launched  himself  into  the  conversation  at  once,  with  characteristic 
independence. 

"  Your  health,  Sir,"  said  Sam.  '^  I  like  your  conwersation  much. 
I  think  it's  wery  pretty." 

At  this  the  man  in  blue  smiled  as  if  it  were  a  compliment  he  was  well 
used  to  ;  but  looked  approvingly  on  Sam  at  the  same  time,  and  said  he 
hoped  he  should  be  better  acquainted  with  him,  for  without  any  flattery 


398  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

at  all  be  seemed  to  have  the  makings  of  a  very  nice  fellow  about  him 

— ^just  the  man  after  his  own  heart. 

"  You're  wery  good.   Sir,"  said  Sara.     "  What  a  lucky  feller  you 
»» 
are. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?"  inquired  the  gentleman  in  blue. 

"  That  'ere  young  lady,"  replied  Sam.  "  She  knows  wot's  wot, 
she  does.  Ah,  I  see."  Mr.  Weller  closed  one  eye,  and  shook  his 
head  from  side  to  side  in  a  manner  which  was  highly  gratifying  to  the 
personal  vanity  of  the  gentleman  in  blue. 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  a  cunning  fellow,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  that  indi- 
dual. 

"  No,  nOj"  said  Sam.  "  I  leave  all  that  'ere  to  you.  It's  a  great 
deal  more  in  your  way  than  mine,  as  the  gen'lm'n  on  the  right 
side  o'  the  garden  vail  said  to  the  man  on  the  wrong  'un,  ven  the  mad 
bull  wos  a  cumin'  up  the  lane." 

"  Well,  well,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  the  gentleman  in  blue,  "  I  think  she 
has  remarked  my  air  and  manner,  Mr.  Weller." 

"  I  should  think  she  couldn't  wery  well  be  ofFo'  that,"  said  Sam. 

"  Have  you  any  little  thing  of  that  kind  in  'hand,  Sir?"  inquired 
the  favoured  gentleman  in  blue,  drawing  a  toothpick  from  his 
waistcoat  pocket. 

"  Not  exactly,"  said  Sam.  "  There's  no  daughters  at  my  place,  else 
o'  course  I  should  ha'  made  up  to  vun  on  'em.  As  it  is,  I  don't  think 
I  can  do  vith  any  thin*  under  a  female  markis.  I  might'take  up  with 
a  young  ooman  o'  large  property  as  hadn't  a  title,  if  she  made  wery  fierce 
love  to  me — not  else." 

"  Of  course  not,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  the  gentleman  in  blue,  *'  one  can't 
be  troubled,  you  know  ;  and  we  know,  Mr.  Weller — we,  who  are  men  of 
the  world — that  a  good  uniform  must  work  its  way  with  the  women, 
sooner  or  later.  In  fact,  that's  the  only  thing,  between  you  and  I,  that 
makes  the  service  worth  entering  into." 

"  Just  so,"  said  Sam.     "That's  it,  o'  couse."^ 

When  this  confidential  dialogue  had  gone  thus  far,  glasses  were 
placed  round,  and  every  gentleman  ordered  what  he  liked  best,  before 
the  public  house  shut  up.  The  gentleman  in  blue  and  the  man  in 
orange,  who  were  the  chief  exquisites  of  the  party,  ordered  "  cold  srub  and 
water,"  but  with  the  others,  gin  and  water  sweet,  appeared  to  be  the 
favourite  beverage.  Sam  called  the  green  grocer  a  "  desp'rate  willin," 
and  ordered  a  large  bowl  of  punch — two  circumstances  which  seemed  to 
raise  him  very  much,  in  the  opinion  of  the  selections. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  man  in  blue,  with  an  air  of  the  most  con- 
summate dandyism,  "  I'll  give  you  the  ladies ;  come." 

"  Hear,  hear  I  "  said  Sara,  "  The  young  missises." 

Here  there  was  a  loud  cry  of  "  Order,"  and  Mr.  John  Smauker,  as 
the  gentleman  who  had  introduced  Mr.  Weller  into  that  company, 
begged  to  inform  him  that  the  word  he  had  just  made  use  of,  was  un- 
parliamentary. 

"  Which  word  was  that  'ere,  Sir?"  enquired  Sam. 


■    ... ......     .. 

V        •»  Missises,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  John  Smauker,  with  an  alarming  frown. 
H     "  We  don't  recognize  such  distinctions  here." 

||P        ♦'  Oh,  wery  good,"  said  Sam ;  « then  I'll  amend  the  obserwation,  and 
call  'em  the  dear  creeturs,  if  Blazes  vill  allow  me." 

Some  doubt  appeared  to  exist  in  the  mind  of  the  gentleman 
in  the  green  foil  smalls,  whether  the  chairman  could  be  legally 
appealed  to,  as  "  Blazes,"  but  as  the  company  seemed  more  dis- 
posed to  stand  iipon  their  own  rights  than  his,  the  question  was  not 
raised.  The  man  with  the  cocked  hat,  breathed  short,  and  looked  long 
at  Sam,  but  apparently  thought  it  as  well  to  say  nothing  in  case  he 
should  get  the  worst  of  it. 

After  a  short  silence,  a  gentleman  in  an  embroidered  coat  reaching 
down  to  his  heels,  and  a  waistcoat  of  the  same  which  kept  one  half  of 
his  legs  warm,  stirred  his  gin  and  water  with  great  energy,  and  putting 
himself  upon  his  feet,  all  at  once,  by  a  violent  effort,  said  he  was  de- 
sirous of  offering  a  few  remarks  to  the  company,  whereupon  the  person 
in  the  cocked  hat  had  no  doubt  that  the  company  would  be  very  happy 
to  hear  any  remarks  that  the  man  in  the  long  coat  might  wish  to  offer. 

"  I  feel  a  great  delicacy,  gentlemen,  in  coming  for'ard,"  said 
the  man  in  the  long  coat,  *'  having  the  misforchune  to  be  a  coachman, 
and  being  only  admitted  as  a  honorary  member  of  these  agreeable 
swarreys,  but  I  do  feel  myself  bound,  gentlemen — drove  into  a  corner, 
if  I  may  use  the  expression — to  make  known  an  afflicting  circumstance 
which  has  come  to  my  knowledge ;  which  has  happened  I  may  say  within 
the  soap  of  my  every  day  contemplation.  Gentlemen,  our  friend  Mr. 
Whiffers  (every  body  looked  at  the  individual  in  orange),  our  friend 
Mr.  Whiffers  has  resigned." 

Universal  astonishment  fell  upon  the  hearers.  Each  gentleman  looked 
in  his  neighbour's  face,  and  then  transferred  his  glance  to  the  upstand- 
ing coachman. 

**  You  may  well  be  sapparised,  gentlemen,"  said  the  coachman.  "  I 
will  not  wenchure  to  state  the  reasons  of  this  irrepairabel  loss  to  the 
service,  but  I  will  beg  Mr.  Whiffers  to  state  thera  himself,  for  the  im- 
provement and  imitation  of  his  admiring  friends.'' 

The  suggestion  being  loudly  approved  of,  Mr.  Whiffers  explained. 
He  said  he  certainly  could  have  wished  to  have  continued  to  hold  the 
appointment  which  he  had  just  resigned.  The  uniform  was  extremely 
rich  and  expensive,  the  females  of  the  family  was  most  agreeable,  and 
the  duties  of  the  situation  was  not,  he  was  bound  to  say,  too  heavy ; 
the  principal  service  that  was  required  of  him,  being,  that  he  should  look 
out  of  the  hall  window  as  much  as  possible,  in  company  with  another 
gentleman,  who  had  also  resigned.  He  could  have  wished  to  have  spared 
that  company  the  painful  and  disgusting  detail  on  which  he  was  about 
to  enter,  but  as  the  explanation  had  been  demanded  of  him,  he  had  no 
alternative  but  to  state,  boldly  and  distinctly,  that  he  had  been  required 
to  eat  cold  meat. 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  the  disgust  which  this  avowal 
awakened  in  the  bosoms  of  the  hearers.     Loud  cries  of  **  Shame, " 


400  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

mingled  with  groans  and  hisses,  prevailed  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  at 
least. 

Mr.  WhifFers  then  added  that  he  feared  a  portion  of  this  outrage 
might  be  traced  to  his  own  forbearing  and  accommodating  disposition. 
He  had  a  distinct  recollection  of  having  once  consented  to  eat  salt 
butter,  and  he  had,  moreover,  on  an  occasion  of  sudden  sickness  in  the 
house,  so  far  forgotten  himself  as  to  carry  a  coal  scuttle  up  to  the 
second  floor.  He  trusted  he  had  not  lowered  himself  in  the  good 
opinion  of  his  friends  by  this  frank  confession  of  his  faults ;  and  he 
hoped  the  promptness  with  which  he  had  resented  the  last  unmanly 
outrage  on  his  feelings  to  which  he  had  referred,  would  reinstate  him 
in  their  good  opinion,,  if  he  had. 

Mr.  WhifFer's  address  was  responded  to,  with  a  shout  of  admiration, 
and  the  health  of  the  interesting  martyr  was  drunk  in  a  most  enthusi- 
astic manner ;  for  this,  the  martyr  returned  thanks,  and  proposed  their 
visiter,  Mr.  Weller — a  gentleman  whom  he  had  not  the  pleasure  of  an 
intimate  acquaintance  with,  but  who  was  the  friend  of  Mr.  John  Srnau- 
ker,  which  was  a  sufficient  ktter  of  recommendation  to  any  society  of 
gentlemen  whatever,  or  wherever.  On  this  account  he  should  have 
been  disposed  to  have  given  Mr.  Weller's  health  with  all  the  honors,  if 
his  friends  had  been  drinking  wine,  but  as  they  were  taking  spirits 
just  by  way  of  a  change ;  and  as  it  might  be  inconvenient  to  empty  a 
tumbler  at  every  toast,  he  should  propose  that  the  honors  be  under- 
stood. 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  speech,  every  body  took  a  sip  out  of  their 
tumblers  in  honor  of  Sam  ;  and  Sam  having  ladled  out,  and  drank,  two 
full  glasses  of  punch  in  honor  of  himself,  returned  thanks  in  a  neat 
speech. 

"  Wery  much  obliged  to  you,  old  fellers,"  said  Sam,  ladling  away  at 
the  punch  in  the  most  unembarrassed  manner  possible,  "  for  this  here 
compliment ;  wich,  comin'  from  sich  a  quarter,  is  wery  overvelmin*. 
I've  heerd  a  good  deal  on  you  as  a  body,  but  I  vill  say,  that  I  never 
thought  you  was  sich  uncommon  nice  men  as  I  find  you  air.  I  only 
hope  you'll  take  care  o'  yourselves,  and  not  compromise  nothin'  o'  your 
dignity,  which  is  a  wery  charmin'  thing  to  see,  when  one's  out  a  walkin*, 
and  has  always  made  me  wery  happy  to  look  at,  ever  since  I  was  a  boy 
about  half  as  high  as  the  brass-headed  stick  o'  my  wery  respectable 
friend.  Blazes,  there.  As  to  the  wictim  of  oppression  in  the  suit  o' 
brimstone,  all  I  can  say  of  him  is,  that  I  hope  he'll  get  jist  as  good  a 
berth  as  he  deserves ;  in  vich  case  it's  wery  little  cold  swarry  as  ever 
he'll  be  troubled  with  agin." 

Here  Sam  sat  down  with  a  pleasant  smile,  and  his  speech  having 
been  vociferously  applauded,  the  company  broke  up. 

<^  Wy,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you're  a  goin'^  old  feller  ?  '*  said  Sam 
Weller  to  his  friend  Mr.  .John  Smauker. 

'<!  must  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Smauker;  "I  promised  Bantam." 

"  Oh,  wery  well,"  said  Sam  ;  "  that's  another  thing.  P'raps  he'd  re- 
sign if  you  disappinted  him.     You  ain't  a  goin',  Blazes  ?'* 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  401 

«  Yes,  I  am,"  said  the  man  with  the  cocked  hat. 

"Wot,  and  leave  three  quarters  of  a  bowl  of  punch  behind  you  !"' 
said  Sam;  "nonsense,  set  down  agin." 

Mr.  Tuckle  was  not  proof  against  this  invitation.  He  laid  aside  the 
cocked  hat  and  stick  which  he  had  just  taken  up,  and  said  he  would 
have  one  glass  just  for  good  fellowship's  sake. 

As  the  gentleman  in  blue  went  home  the  same  way  as  Mr.  Tuckle. 
he  was  prevailed  upon  to  stop  too.  When  the  punch  was  about  half 
gone,  Sam  ordered  in  some  oysters  from  the  greengrocer's  shop ;  and 
the  effect  of  both  was  so  extremely  exhilarating,  that  Mr.  Tuckle, 
dressed  out  with  the  cocked  hat  and  stick,  danced  the  frog  hornpipe 
among  the  shells  on  the  table,  while  the  gentleman  in  blue  played  an 
accompaniment  upon  an  ingenious  musical  instrument  formed  of  a  hair 
comb  and  a  curl-paper.  At  last,  when  the  punch  was  all  gone,  and  the 
night  nearly  so,  they  sallied  forth  to  see  each  other  home.  Mr.  Tuckle 
no  sooner  got  into  the  open  air,  than  he  was  seized  with  a  sudden  de- 
sire to  lie  on  the  curb-stone  ;  Sam  thought  it  would  be  a  pity  to  con- 
tradict him,  and  so  let  him  have  his  own  way.  As  the  cocked  hat 
would  have  been  spoilt  if  left  there,  Sam  very  considerately  flattened 
it  down  on  the  head  of  the  gentleman  in  blue,  and  putting  the  big  stick 
in  his  hand,  propped  him  up  against  his  own  street-door,  rang  the  bell, 
and  walked  quietly  home. 

At  a  much  earlier  hour  next  morning  than  his  usual  time  of  rising, 
Mr.  Pickwick  walked  down  stairs  completely  dressed,  and  rang  the 
hell. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  Mr.  Weller  appeared  in  reply  to 
the  summons,  "  shut  the  door." 

Mr.  Weller  did  so. 

"  There  was  an  unfortunate  occurrence  here,  last  night,  Sam,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick,  "which  gave  Mr.  Winkle  some  cause  to  apprehend 
violence  from  Mr.  Dowler." 

"  So  I've  heerd  from  the  old  lady  down  stairs.  Sir,"  replied  Sam. 

"  And  I'm  sorry  to  say,  Sam,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  most 
perplexed  countenance,  "  that  in  dread  of  this  violence,  Mr.  Winkle 
has  gone  away." 

"  Gone  avay  ! "  said  Sam. 

"  Left  the  house  early  this  morning  without  the  slightest  previous 
communication  with  me,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  And  is  gone,  I 
know  not  where." 

"  He  should  ha'  stopped  and  fought  it  out.  Sir,"  replied  Sam, 
contemptuously.  "  It  vouldn't  take  much  to  settle  that  'ere  Dowler, 
Sir." 

"  Well  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  may  have  my  doubts  of  his 
great  bravery  and  determination,  also.  But  however  that  may  be,  Mr. 
Winkle  is  gone.  He  must  be  found,  Sam — found  and  brought  back  to 
me." 

"  And  s'pose  he  von't  come  back.  Sir,"  said  Sam. 

"  He  must  be  made,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Who's  to  do  it,  Sir  ?"  enquired  Sam  with  a  smile. 


402  POSTHUMOU-S    PAPERS    OF    THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 

"  You,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Wery  good,  Sir." 

With  these  words  Mr.  Weller  left  the  room,  and  immediately  after- 
wards was  heard  to  shut  the  street  door.  In  two  hours'  time  he  re- 
turned with  as  much  coolness  as  if  he  had  been  despatched  on  the  mo;?t 
ordinary  message  possible,  and  broug-ht  the  information  that  an  indi- 
vidual in  every  respect  answering  Mr.  Winkle's  description  had  gone 
over  to  Bristol  that  morning,  by  the  branch  coach  from  the  Koyal 
Hotel. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  grasping  his  hand,  "  you're  a  capital  fel- 
low ;  an  invaluable  fellow.     You  must  follow  him,  Sam." 

"  Cert'nly,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  The  instant  you  discover  him,  write  to  me  immediately,  Sam,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick.  "  If  he  attempts  to  run  away  from  you,  knock  him 
down,  or  lock  him  up.     You  have  my  full  authority,  Sam." 

"  I'll  be  wery  careful,  Sir,"  rejoined  Sam. 

"  You'll  tell  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  *'  that  I  am  highly  excited, 
highly  displeased,  and  naturally  indignant  at  the  very  extraordinary 
course  he  has  thought  proper  to  pursue. 

"  I  will,  Sir,"  replied  Sam. 

*'  You'll  tell  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  that  if  he  does  not  come 
back  to  this  very  house,  with  you,  he  will  come  back  with  me,  for  I 
will  come  and  fetch  him." 

*'  I'll  mention  that  'ere,  Sir,"  rejoined  Sam. 

*'  You  think  you  can  find  him,  Sam  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking 
earnestly  in  his  face. 

"  Oh,  I'll  find  him  if  he's  any  vere,"  rejoined  Sam,  with  great  confi- 
dence. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Then  the  sooner  you  go  the 
better." 

With  these  instructions  Mr.  Pickwick  placed  a  sum  of  money  in  the; 
hands  of  his  faithful  servitor,  and  ordered  him  to  start  for  Bristol  imme*  I 
diately,  in  pursuit  of  the  fugitive. 

Sam  put  a  few  necessaries  in  a  carpet  bag,  and  was  ready  for  starting.] 
He  stopped  when  he  had  got  to  the  end  of  the  passage,  and  walkingj 
quietly  back,  thrust  his  head  in  at  the  parlor  door. 

"  Sir,"  whispered  Sam. 

*'  Well,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  fully  understands  my  instructions,  do  I,  Sir?"  inquired  Sam. 

*'  I  hope  so,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  It's  reg'larly  understood  about  the  knockin'  down,  is  it  Sir?"  en^j 
quired  Sam. 

"  Perfectly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Thoroughly.  Do  what  yoiil 
think  necessary.     You  have  my  orders." 

Sam  gave  a  nod  of  intelligence,  and  withdrawing  his  head  from  the^ 
door,  set  forth  on  his  pilgrimage  with  a  light  heart. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  403 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

HOW    MR.    WINKLE,    WHEN    HE    STEPPED    OUT    OF    THE    FRYING-PAN, 
WALKED  GENTLY   AND  COMFORTABLY  INTO   THE  FIRE. 

The  ill-starred  g^entleman  who  had  been  the  unfortunate  cause  of  the 
unusual  noise  and  disturbance  which  alarmed  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Royal  Crescent  in  manner  and  form  already  described,  after  passing  a 
nig^ht  of  great  confusion  and  anxiety,  left  the  roof  beneath  which  his 
friends  still  slumbered,  bound  he  knew  not  whither.  The  excellent  and 
considerate  feelings  which  prompted  Mr.  Winkle  to  take  this  step  can 
never  be  too  highly  appreciated  or  too  warmly  extolled.  "  If" — rea- 
soned Mr.  Winkle  with  himself — "  if  this  Dowler  attempts  (as  I  have 
no  doubt  he  will)  to  carry  into  execution  his  threat  of  personal  violence 
against  myself,  it  will  be  incumbent  on  me  to  call  him  out.  He  has  a 
wife  ;  that  wife  is  attached  to,  and  dependent  on  him.  Heavens  !  if  I 
should  kill  him  in  the  blindness  of  my  wrath,  what  would  be  my  feelings 
ever  afterwards !  "  This  painful  consideration  operated  so  powerfully  on 
the  feelings  of  the  humane  young  man,  as  to  cause  his  knees  to  knock 
together,  and  his  countenance  to  exhibit  alarming  manifestations  of  in- 
ward emotion.  Impelled  by  these  reflections,  he  grasped  his  carpet-bag, 
and  creeping  stealthily  down  stairs,  shut  the  detestable  street-door  with 
as  little  noise  as  possible,  and  walked  off.  Bending  his  steps  towards 
the  Royal  Hotel,  he  found  a  coach  on  the  point  of  starting  for  Bristol ; 
and  thinking  Bristol  as  good  a  place  for  his  purpose  as  any  other  he 
could  go  to,  mounted  on  the  box,  and  reached  his  place  of  destination 
in  such  time  as  the  pair  of  horses,  who  went  the  whole  stage  and  back 
again  twice  a  day  or  more,  could  be  reasonably  supposed  to  arrive  there. 

He  took  up  his  quarters  at  The  Bush  ;  and  designing  to  postpone  any 
communication  by  letter  with  Mr.  Pickwick  until  it  was  probable  that 
Mr.  Dowler's  wrath  might  have  in  some  degree  evaporated,  walked  forth 
to  view  the  city,  which  struck  him  as  being  a  shade  more  dirty  than  any- 
place he  had  ever  seen.  Having  inspected  the  docks  and  shipping,  and 
viewed  the  cathedral,  he  inquired  his  way  to  Clifton,  and  being  directed 
thither,  took  the  route  which  was  pointed  out  to  him.  But,  as  the 
pavements  of  Bristol  are  not  the  widest  or  cleanest  upon  earth,  so  its 
streets  are  not  altogether  the  straightest  or  least  intricate ;  and  Mr. 
Winkle  being  greatly  puzzled  by  their  manifold  windings  and  twistings, 
looked  about  him  for  a  decent  shop  in  which  he  could  apply  afresh  for 
counsel  and  instruction. 

His  eye  fell  upon  a  newly-painted  tenement  which  had  been  recently 
converted  into  something  between  a  shop  and  a  private-house,  and  which 
a  red  lamp,  projecting  over  the  fan-light  of  the  street-door,  would  have 
sufficiently  announced  as  the  residence  of  a  medical  practitioner,  even  if 
the  word  "  Surgery  "  had  not  been  inscribed  in  golden  characters  on  a 

GG 


404  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

wainscot  ground,  above  the  window  of  what,  in  times  bygone,  had  been 
the  front  parlour.  Thinking  this  an  eligible  place  wherein  to  make  his 
inquiries,  Mr.  Winkle  stepped  into  the  little  shop  where  the  gilt- 
labelled  drawers  and  bottles  were ;  and  finding  nobody  there,  knocked 
with  a  half-crown  on  the  counter,  to  attract  the  attention  of  anybody 
who  might  happen  to  be  in  the  back  parlour,  which  he  judged  to  be  the 
innermost  and  peculiar  sanctum  of  the  establishment,  from  the  repetition 
of  the  word  surgery  on  the  door—painted  in  white  letters  this  time,  by 
way  of  taking  off  the  sameness. 

At  the  first  knock,  a  sound,  as  of  persons  fencing  with  fire-irons,  which 
had  until  now  been  very  audible,  suddenly  ceased  ;  and  at  the  second,  a 
studious-looking  young  gentleman  in  green  spectacles,  with  a  very  large 
book  in  his  hand,  glided  quietly  into  the  shop,  and  stepping  behind  the 
counter,  requested  to  know  the  visitor's  pleasure. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  trouble  you,  Sir,'*  said  Mr.  Winkle,  "  but  will  you 
have  the  goodness  to  direct  me  to " 

"  Ha  I  ha !  ha ! "  roared  the  studious  young  gentleman,  throwing 
the  large  book  up  into  the  air,  and  catching  it  with  great  dexterity  at 
the  very  moment  when  it  threatened  to  smash  to  atoms  all  the  bottles 
on  the  counter.     "  Here's  a  start !  " 

There  was,  without  doubt ;  for  Mr.  Winkle  was  so  very  much  asto- 
nished at  the  extraordinary  behaviour  of  the  medical  gentleman,  that  he 
involuntarily  retreated  towards  the  door,  and  looked  very  much  dis- 
turbed at  his  strange  reception. 

"  What,  don't  you  know  me?"  said  the  medical  gentleman. 

Mr.  Winkle  murmured,  in  reply,  that  he  had  not  that  pleasure. 

*'  Why  then;"  said  the  medical  gentleman,  "  there  are  hopes  for  me 
yet ;  I  may  attend  half  the  old  women  in  Bristol  if  I've  decent  luck. 
Get  out,  you  mouldy  old  villain,  get  out."  With  this  adjuration,  which 
was  addressed  to  the  large  book,  the  medical  gentleman  kicked  the  volume 
with  remarkable  agility  to  the  further  end  of  the  shop,  and  pulling  off 
his  green  spectacles,  grinned  the  identical  grin  of  Robert  Sawyer,  Es- 
quire, formerly  of  Guy's  Hospital  in  the  Borough,  with  a  private  resi- 
dence in  liant-street. 

**  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  weren't  down  upon  me!"  said  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer,  shaking  Mr.  Winkle's  hand  with  friendly  warmth, 

"  Upon  my  word  I  was  not,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  returning  the 
pressure. 

"  I  wonder  you  didn't  see  the  name,"  said  Bob  Sawyer,  calling  his 
friend's  attention  to  the  outer  door,  on  which,  in  the  same  white  paint, 
were  traced  the  words  "  Sawyer,  late  Nockemorf." 

'*  It  never  caught  my  eye,"  returned  Mr.  Winkle. 

*'  Lord,  if  I  had  known  who  you  were,  I  should  have  rushed  out,  and 
caught  you  in  my  arms,"  said  Bob  Sawyer ;  "  but  upon  my  life,  I  thought 
you  were  the  King's-taxes." 

"  No!"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

**  I  did,  indeed,"  responded  Bob  Sawyer,  "  and  I  was  just  going  to 
say  that  I  wasn't  at  home,  but  if  you'd  leave  a  message  I'd  be  sure  to 
give  it  to  myself;  for  he  don't  know  me,  no  more  does  the  Lighting 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  405 

and  Paving".  I  think  the  Church-rates  guesses  who  I  am,  and  I  know 
the  Water-works  does,  because  I  drew  a  tooth  of  his,  when  I  first  came 
down  here. — But  come  in,  come  in."  Chattering  in  this  way,  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  pushed  Mr.  Winkle  into  the  back  room,  where,  amusing  him- 
self by  boring  little  circular  caverns  in  the  chimney-piece  with  a  red-hot 
poker,  sat  no  less  a  person  than  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  "  this  is  indeed  a  pleasure  that  I  did  not 
expect.     W^hat  a  very  nice  place  you  have  here  !" 

"  Pretty  well,  pretty  well,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer.  "  I  passed,  soon 
after  that  precious  party,  and  ray  friends  came  down  with  the  needful 
for  this  business  ;  so  I  put  on  a  black  suit  of  clothes  and  a  pair  of  spec- 
tacles, and  came  here,  to  look  as  solemn  as  I  could." 

"  And  a  very  snug-  little  business  you  have,  no  doubt  ?"  said  Mr. 
Winkle,  knowingly. 

*'  Very,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer.  "  So  snug,  that  at  the  end  of  a  few 
years  you  might  put  all  the  profits  in  a  wine  glass,  and  cover  'em  oyer 
with  a  gooseberry  leaf." 

"  You  cannot  surely  mean  that?"  said  Mr.  Winkle.  "  The  stock 
itself " 

"  Dummies,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Bob  Sawyer ;  "  half  the  drawers  have 
got  nothing  in  'era,  and  the  other  half  don't  open." 

"  Nonsense  I ''  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Fact — honour!"  returned  Bob  Sawyer,  stepping  out  into  the  shop, 
and  demonstrating  the  veracity  of  the  assertion  by  divers  hard  pulls  at 
the  little  gilt  knobs  on  the  counterfeit  drawers.  "  Hardly  any  thing- 
real  in  the  shop  but  the  leeches,  and  thei/  are  secondhand." 

"  I  shouldn't  have  thought  it!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle,  much  sur- 
prised. 

"  I  hope  not,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer,  "  else  where 's  the  use  of  appear- 
ances, eh  ?  But  what  will  you  take  !  Do  as  we  do  ? — that 's  right. 
Ben,  my  fine  fellow,  put  your  hand  into  the  cupboard,  and  bring  out  the 
patent  digester." 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  smiled  his  readiness,  and  produced  from  the 
closet  at  his  elbow  a  black  bottle  half  full  of  brandy. 

"  You  don't  take  water,  of  course  ?"  said  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  "  It 's  rather  early  :  I  should 
like  to  qualify  it,  if  you  have  no  objection." 

"  None  in  the  least,  if  you  can  reconcile  it  to  your  conscience/'  re- 
plied Bob  Sawyer;  tossing  oif,  as  he  spoke,  a  glass  of  the  liquor  with 
great  relish. — "  Ben,  the  pipkin." 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  drew  forth  from  the  same  hiding-place  a  small 
brass  pipkin,'which  Bob  Sawyer  observed  he  prided  himself  upon,  parti- 
cularly, because  it  looked  so  business-like.  The  water  in  the  profes- 
sional pipkin  having  been  made  to  boil,  in  course  of  time,  by  va- 
rious little  shovels-full  of  coal,  which  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  took  out  of  a 
practicable  window-seat,  labelled  "  Soda  Water,"  Mr.  Winkle  adulterated 
his  brandy ;  and  the  conversation  was  becoming  general,  when  it  was 
interrupted  by  the  entrance  into  the  shop  of  a  boy,  in  a  sober  grey 
livery  and  a  gold-laced  hat,  with  a  small  covered  basket  under  his  arm, 

G  G  2 


406  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OP 

whom  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  immediately  hailed  with,  "  Tom,  you  vagabond, 
come  here." 

The  boy  presented  himself  accordingly. 

*'  You've  been  stopping  to  over  all  the  posts  in  Bristol,  you  idle  young 
scamp  \"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

*'  No,  Sir,  I  haven't,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  You  had  better  not  I "  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  a  threatening  aspect. 
"  Who  do  you  suppose  will  ever  employ  a  professional  man,  when  they 
see  his  boy  playing  at  marbles  in  the  gutter,  or  flying  the  garter  in  the 
horse-road?  Have  you  no  feeling  for  your  profession,  you  groveller? 
Did  you  leave  all  the  medicine  ?" 
"  Yes,  Sir." 

"  The  powders  for  the  child,  at  the  large  house  with  the  new  family, 
and  the  pills  to  be  taken  four  times  a  day  at  the  ill-tempered  old  gentle- 
man's with  the  gouty  leg  ?  " 
"  Yes,  Sir." 

"  Then  shut  the  door,  and  mind  the  shop." 

"  Come,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  as  the  boy  retired,  "  things  are  not  quite 
ho  had  as  you  would  have  me  believe,  either.  There  is  some  medicine 
to  be  sent  out." 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  peeped  into  the  shop  to  see  that  no  stranger  was 
within  hearing,  and  leaning  forward  to  Mr.  Winkle,  said,  in  a  low 
tone — 

"  He  leaves  it  all  at  the  wrong  houses." 

Mr.  Winkle  looked  perplexed,  and  Bob  Sawyer  and  his  friend 
laughed. 

"  Don't  you  see?"  said  Bob;  "  he  goes  up  to  a  house,  rings  the  area 
bell,  pokes  a  packet  of  medicine  without  a  direction  into  the  servant's 
hand,  and  walks  off.  Servant  takes  it  into  the  dining-parlour ;  master 
opens  it,  and  reads  the  label,  *  Draught  to  be  taken  at  bedtime — pills 
as  before — lotion  as  usual — the  powder.  From  Sawyer's,  late  Nock- 
emorf's.  Physicians'  prescriptions  carefully  prepared :'  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  Shows  it  to  his  wife — she  reads  the  label ;  it  goes  down  to  the 
servants — ihei/  read  the  label.  Next  day  the  boy  calls:  *  Very  sorry — 
his  mistake — immense  business — great  many  parcels  to  deliver — Mr. 
Sawyer's  compliments — ^late  Nockemorf.'  The  name  gets  known,  and 
that 's  the  thing,  my  boy,  in  the  medical  way ;  bless  your  heart,  old 
fellow,  it 's  better  than  all  the  advertising  in  the  world.  We  have  got 
one  four-ounce  bottle  that 's  been  to  half  the  houses  in  Bristol,  and 
hasn't  done  yet." 

"  Dear  me,  I  see,"  observed  Mr. Winkle;  "what  an  excellent  plan!" 
<'  Oh,  Ben  and  I  have  hit  upon  a  dozen  such,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer, 
with  great  glee.  *'  The  lamplighter  has  eighteen-pence  a  week  to  pull 
the  night-bell  for  ten  minutes,  every  time  he  comes  round  ;  and  my  boy 
always  rushes  into  church  just  before  the  psalms,  when  the  people 
have  got  nothing  to  do  but  look  about  'em,  and  calls  me  out,  with  horror 
and  dismay  depicted  on  his  countenance.  *  Bless  my  soul/  every  body 
says,  *  somebody  taken  suddenly  ill !  Sawyer,  late  Nockemorf,  sent 
for.     What  a  business  that  young  man  has !'" 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  407 

At  the  termination  of  this  disclosure  of  some  of  the  mysteries  of 
medicine,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  and  his  friend,  Ben  Allen,  threw  themselves 
back  in  their  respective  chairs,  and  laughed  boisterously.  When  they 
had  enjoyed  the  joke  to  their  hearts'  content,  the  discourse  changed  to 
topics  in  which  Mr.  Winkle  was  more  immediately  interested. 

We  think  we  have  hinted  elsewhere,  that  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  had  a 
way  of  becoming  sentimental  after  brandy.  The  case  is  not  a  peculiar 
one,  as  we  ourself  can  testify,  having,  on  a  few  occasions,  had  to  deal 
•with  patients  who  have  been  attticled  in  a  similar  manner.  At  this 
precise  period  of  his  existence,  I\Ir.  Benjamin  Allen  had  perhaps  a 
greater  predisposition  to  maudlinism  than  he  had  ever  known  before  ;  the 
cause  of  which  malady  was  briefly  this.  He  had  been  staying  nearly  three 
weeks  with  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  ;  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  not  remarkable  for 
temperance,  nor  was  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  for  the  ownership  of  a  very 
strong  head ;  and  the  consequence  was,  that,  during  the  whole  space  of 
time  just  mentioned,  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  had  been  wavering  between 
intoxication  partial  and  intoxication  complete. 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  taking  advantage  of  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer's  temporary  absence  behind  the  counter,  whither  he  had  retired 
to  dispense  some  of  the  secondhand  leeches,  previously  referred  to, 
"  my  dear  friend,  I  am  very  miserable." 

Mr.  Winkle  professed  his  heartfelt  regret  to  hear  it,  and  begged  to 
know  whether  he  could  do  any  thing  to  alleviate  the  sorrows  of  the 
suffering  student. 

"  Nothing,  my  dear  boy — nothing,"  said  Ben.  "  You  recollect 
Arabella,  Winkle — my  sister  Arabella — a  little  girl,  Winkle,  with  black 
eyes — when  we  were  down  at  Wardle's  ?  I  don't  know  whether  you 
happened  to  notice  her — a  nice  little  girl,  Winkle.  Perhaps  my  fea- 
tures may  recal  her  countenance  to  your  recollection  ?" 

Mr.  Winkle  required  nothing  to  recal  the  charming  Arabella  to  his 
mind ;  and  it  was  rather  fortunate  he  did  not,  for  the  features  of  her 
brother  Benjamin  would  unquestionably  have  proved  but  an  indifferent 
refresher  to  his  memory.  He  answered,  with  as  much  calmness  as  he 
could  assume,  that  he  perfectly  remembered  the  young  lady  referred  to, 
and  sincerely  trusted  she  was  in  good  health. 

"  Our  friend  Bob  is  a  delightful  fellow.  Winkle,"  was  the  only  reply 
of  Mr.  Ben  Allen. 

"  Very,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  not  much  relishing  this  close  connexion 
of  the  two  names. 

"  1  designed  'em  for  each  other ;  they  were  made  for  each  other,  sent 
into  the  world  for  each  other,  born  for  each  other.  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Ben 
Allen,  setting  down  his  glass  with  great  emphasis.  "  There  's  a  special 
destiny  in  the  matter,  my  dear  Sir;  there's  only  five  years' difference 
between  'em,  and  both  their  birthdays  are  in  August." 

Mr.  Winkle  was  too  anxious  to  hear  what  was  to  follow,  to  express 
much  wonderment  at  this  extraordinary  circumstance,  marvellous  as  it 
was  ;  so  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  after  a  tear  or  two,  went  on  to  say,  that,  notwith- 
standing  all   his  esteem   and  respect    and   veneration  for  his  friend, 


408  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Arabella  had  unaccountably  and  un dutifully  evinced  the  most  deter- 
mined antipathy  to  his  person. 

"  And  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  in  conclusion,  '<  /  think  there  *s 
a  prior  attachment." 

"Have  you  any  idea  who  the  object  of  it  maybe?"  asked  Mr. 
Winkle,  vi^ith  great  trepidation. 

Mr.  Ben  Allen  seized  the  poker,  flourished  it,  in  a  warlike  manner 
above  his  head,  inflicted  a  savage  blow  on  an  imaginary  skull,  and 
wound  up  by  saying,  in  a  very  expressive  manner,  that  he  only  wished 
he  could  guess — that  was  all. 

*'  I  'd  show  him  what  I  thought  of  him,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen.  And 
round  went  the  poker  again,  more  fiercely  than  before. 

All  this,  was  of  course  very  soothing  to  the  feelings  of  Mr.  Winkle, 
who  remained  silent  for  a  few  minutes  ;  but  at  length  mustered  up  re- 
solution to  inquire  whether  Miss  Allen  was  in  Kent. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  laying  aside  the  poker,  and  looking 
very  cunning ;  "  I  didn't  think  Wardle's  exactly  the  place  for  a  head- 
strong girl ;  so,  as  I  am  her  natural  protector  and  guardian,  our  parents 
being  dead,  I  have  brought  her  down  into  this  part  of  the  country  to 
spend  a  few  months  at  an  old  aunt's,  in  a  nice,  dull,  close  place.  I 
think  that  will  cure  her,  my  boy ;  and  if  it  doesn't,  I  '11  take  her  abroad 
for  a  little  while,  and  see  what  that'll  do." 

"  Oh,  the  aunt's  is  in  Bristol,  is  it  ?  "  faltered  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  No,  no — not  in  Bristol,"  replied  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  jerking  his  thumb 
over  his  right  shoulder:  "over  that  way — down  there.  But,  hush, 
here's  Bob.     Not  a  word,  my  dear  friend — not  a  word." 

Short  as  this  conversation  was,  it  roused  in  Mr.  Winkle  the  highest 
-degree  of  excitement  and  anxiety.  The  suspected  prior  attachment 
rankled  in  his  heart.  Could  he  be  the  object  of  it?  Could  it  be  for 
him  that  the  fair  Arabella  had  looked  scornfully  on  the  sprightly  Bob 
Sawyer,  or  had  he  a  successful  rival  ?  He  determined  to  see  her,  cost 
what  it  might ;  but  here  an  insurmountable  objection  presented  itself,  for 
whether  the  explanatory  "  over  that  way,"  and  "  down  there,"  of  Mr. 
Ben  Allen,  meant  three  miles  off,  or  thirty,  or  three  hundred,  he  could 
in  no  wise  guess. 

But  he  had  no  opportunity  of  pondering  over  his  love  just  then,  for 
Bob  Sawyer's  return  was  the  immediate  precursor  of  the  arrival  of  a 
meat  pie  from  the  baker's,  of  which  that  gentleman  insisted  on  his 
staying  to  partake.  The  cloth  was  laid  by  an  occasional  chairwoman, 
who  officiated  in  the  capacity  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  housekeeper ;  and  a 
third  knife  and  fork  having  been  borrowed  from  the  mother  of  the  boy 
in  the  grey  livery  (for  Mr.  Sawyer's  domestic  arrangements  were  as  yet 
conducted  on  a  limited  scale),  they  sat  down  to  dinner;  the  beer  being 
served  up,  as  Mr.  Sawyer  remarked,  "  in  its  native  pewter." 

After  dinner,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  ordered  in  the  largest  mortar  in  the 
shop,  and  proceeded  to  brew  a  reeking  jorum  of  rum-punch  therein, 
stirring  up  and  amalgamating  the  materials  with  a  pestle  in  a  very  cre- 
ditable and  apothecary-like  manner.     Mr.  Sawyer  being  a  bachelor,  had 


m 


^ 


i. 


1 


\ 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  409 

only  one  tumbler  in  the  house,  which  was  assig^ned  to  Mr.  Winkle  as  a 
compliment  to  the  visitor,  Mr.  Ben  Allen  being-  accommodated  with  a 
funnel  with  a  cork  in  the  narrow  end,  and  Bob  Sawyer  contenting  himself 
with  one  of  those  wide-lipped  crystal  vessels  inscribed  with  a  variety  of 
cabalistic  characters,  in  which  chemists  are  wont  to  measure  out  their 
liquid  drugs  in  compounding  prescriptions.  These  preliminaries  adjusted, 
the  punch  was  tasted,  and  pronounced  excellent ;  and  it  having  been 
arranged  that  Bob  Sawyer  and  Ben  Allen  should  be  considered  at  liberty 
to  fill  twice  to  Mr.  Winkle's  once,  they  started  fair,  with  great  satisfac- 
tion and  good-fellowship.' 

There  was  no  singing,  because  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  said  it  wouldn't  look 
professional ;  but  to  make  amends  for  this  deprivation  there  was  so  much 
talking  and  laughing  that  it  might  have  been  heard,  and  very  likely 
was,  at  the  end  of  the  street :  which  conversation  materially  lightened 
the  hours  and  improved  the  mind  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  boy,  who,  in- 
stead of  devoting  the  evening  to  his  ordinary  occupation  of  writing  his 
name  on  the  counter,  and  rubbing  it  out  again,  peeped  through  the 
glass  door,  and  thus  listened  and  looked  on,  at  the  same  time. 

The  mirth  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  rapidly  ripening  into  the  furious, 
Mr.  Ben  Allen  was  fast  relapsing  into  the  sentimental,  and  the  punch 
had  well  nigh  disappeared  altogether,  when  the  boy  hastily  running  in, 
announced  that  a  young  woman  had  just  come  over,  to  say  that  Sawyer 
late  Nockemorf  was  wanted  directly,  a  couple  of  streets  off.  This  broke 
up  the  party.  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  understanding  the  message  after  some 
twenty  repetitions,  tied  a  wet  cloth  round  his  head  to  sober  himself,  a-nd 
having  partially  succeeded,  put  on  his  green  spectacles  and  issued  forth. 
Resisting  all  entreaties  to  stay  till  he  came  back,  and  finding  it  quite 
impossible  to  engage  Mr.  Ben  Allen  in  any  intelligible  conversation  on 
the  subject  nearest  his  heart,  or  indeed  on  any  other,  Mr.  Winkle  took 
his  departure  and  returned  to  the  Bush. 

The  anxiety  of  his  mind,  and  the  numerous  meditations  which  Arabella 
had  awakened,  prevented  his  share  of  the  mortar  of  punch  producing" 
that  effect  upon  him  which  it  would  have  had,  under  other  circumstances. 
So,  after  taking  a  glass  of  soda-water  and  brandy  at  the  bar,  he  turned 
into  the  coffee-room,  dispirited  rather  than  elevated  by  the  occurrences 
of  the  evening. 

Sitting  in  front  of  the  fire,  with  his  back  towards  him,  was  a  tallish 
gentleman  in  a  great-coat :  the  only  other  occupant  of  the  room.  It  was 
rather  a  cool  evening  for  the  season  of  the  year,  and  the  gentleman  drew 
his  chair  aside  to  afford  the  new  comer  a  sight  of  the  fire.  What  were 
Mr.  Winkle's  feelings  when,  in  so  doing,  he  disclosed  to  view  the  face 
and  figure  of  the  vindictive  and  sanguinary  Dowler  I 

Mr.  Winkle's  first  impulse  was  to  give  a  violent  pull  at  the  nearest 
bell-handle,  but  that  unfortunately  happened  to  be  immediately  behind 
Mr.  Dowler's  head.  He  had  made  one  step  towards  it,  before  he 
cliecked  himself.     As  he  did  so,  Mr.  Dowler  very  hastily  drew  back. 

*'  Mr.  Winkle,  Sir.  Be  calm.  Don't  strike  me.  I  won't  bear  it. 
A  blow  !  Never,"  said  Mr.  Dowler,  looking  meeker  than  Mr.  Winkle 
had  expected  in  a  gentleman  of  his  ferocity. 


410  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OP 

"  A  blow,  Sir  ?"  stammered  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  A  blow,  Sir,"  replied  Dowler.  "  Compose  your  feelings.  Sit 
down.     Hear  me." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  "  before  I  con- 
sent to  sit  down  beside,  or  opposite  you,  without  the  presence  of  a 
waiter,  I  must  be  secured  by  some  further  understanding.  You  used  a 
threat  against  me  last  night,  Sir— a  dreadful  threat.  Sir."  Here  Mr. 
Winkle  turned  very  pale  indeed,  and  stopped  short. 

"  I  did,"  said  Dowler,  with  a  countenance  almost  as  white  as  Mr. 
Winkle*s.  "  Circumstances  were  suspicious.  They  have  been  ex- 
plained. I  respect  your  bravery.  Your  feeling  is  upright.  Conscious 
innocence.     There's  my  hand.     Grasp  it." 

"  Really  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  hesitating  whether  to  give  his  hand 
or  not,  and  almost  fearing  that  it  was  demanded  in  order  that  he  might 

be  taken  at  an  advantage,  "  really  Sir,  I " 

"  I  know  what  you  mean/'  interposed  Dowler.  **  You  feel  aggrieved. 
Very  natural.  So  should  I.  I  was  wrong.  I  beg  your  pardon.  Be 
friendly.  Forgive  me."  With  this,  Dowler  fairly  forced  his  hand  upon 
Mr.  Winkle,  and  shaking  it  with  the  utmost  vehemence,  declared  he  was 
a  fellow  of  extreme  spirit,  and  he  had  a  higher  opinion  of  him  than  ever. 
"  Now,"  said  Dowler,  "  sit  down.  Relate  it  all.  How  did  you  find 
me?     When  did  you  follow ?     Be  frank.     Tell  me." 

*•  It's  quite  accidental,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  greatly  perplexed  by  the 
curious  and  unexpected  nature  of  the  interview,  "  Quite." 

"  Glad  of  it,"  said  Dowler.  "  I  woke  this  morning.  I  had  forgotten 
my  threat.     I  laughed  at  the  accident.     I  felt  friendly.     I  said  so." 

"  To  whom  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Winkle. 
'     ''  To  Mrs.  Dowler.     *  You  made  a  vow,*  said  she.     '  I  did,*  s?id  I. 
*  It  was  a  rash  one,'  said  she.     *  It  was,'  said  I.     *  I'll  apologise.     WhereJ 
is  he?'" 

«  Who  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Winkle. 
"  You,"  replied  Dowler.  "  I  went  down  stairs.  You  were  not  to  be| 
found.  Pickwick  looked  gloomy.  Shook  his  head.  Hoped  no  violence! 
would  be  committed.  I  saw  it  all.  You  felt  yourself  insulted.  Youj 
had  gone,  for  a  friend  perhaps.  Possibly  for  pistols.  *  High  spirit,*  said} 
I.     *  I  admire  him.'  " 

Mr.  Winkle  coughed,  and  beginning  to  see  how  the  land  lay,  assumed! 
a  look  of  importance. 

"  I  left  a  note  for  you,"  resumed  Dowler.  *'  I  said  I  was  sorry.  So 
I  was.  Pressing  business  called  me  here.  You  were  not  satisfied. 
You  followed.  You  required  a  verbal  explanation.  You  were  right. 
It's  all  over  now.  My  business  is  finished.  I  go  back  to-morrow. 
Join  me." 

As  Dowler  progressed  in  his  explanation,  Mr.  Winkle's  countenance 
grew  more  and  more  dignified.  The  mysterious  nature  of  the  com- 
mencement of  their  conversation  was  explained ;  Mr.  Dowler  had  as 
great  an  objection  to  duelling  as  himself;  in  short,  this  blustering  and 
awful  personage  was  one  of  the  most  egregious  cowards  in  existence, 
and  interpreting  Mr.  Winkle's  absence  through  the  medium  of  his  own 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  411 

fears,  had  actually  taken  the  same  step  as  himself,  and  prudently  retired 
until  all  excitement  of  feelinq-  should  have  suhsided. 

As  the  real  state  of  the  case  dawned  upon  Mr.  Winkle's  mind,  he 
looked  very  terrible,  and  said  he  was  perfectly  satisfied ;  hut  at  the  same 
time,  said  so,  with  an  air  that  left  Mr.  Dowler  no  alternative  but  to  infer 
that  if  he  had  not  been,  somethins:  most  horrible  and  destructive  must 
inevitably  have  occurred.  Mr.  Dowler  appeared  to  be  impressed  with  a 
becomings  sense  of  Mr.  Winkle's  magnanimity  and  condescension  ;  and 
the  two  belligerents  parted  for  the  night,  with  many  protestations  of 
eternal  friendship. 

About  half-past  twelve  o'clock,  when  Mr.  Vv^inkle  had  been  revelling 
some  twenty  minutes  in  the  full  luxury  of  his  first  sleep,  he  was  sud- 
denly awakened  by  a  loud  knocking  at  his  chamber-door,  which,  being 
repeated  with  increased  vehemence,  caused  him  to  start  up  in  bed,  and 
inquire  who  was  there,  and  what  the  matter  was. 

"  Please,  Sir,  here 's  a  young  man  which  says  he  must  see  you  di- 
rectly," responded  the  voice  of  the  chambermaid. 

"  A  young  man  !"  exclaimed  j\Ir.  Winkle. 

"  No  mistake  about  that  'ere.  Sir,"  replied  another  voice  through  the 
keyhole;  "  and  if  that  wery  same  interestin'  young  creetur  ain't  let  in 
vithout  delay,  it 's  wery  possible  as  his  legs  vill  enter  afore  his  counte- 
nance."— The  young  man  gave  a  gentle  kick  at  one  of  the  lower  pannels 
of  the  door,  after  he  had  given  utterance  to  this  hint,  as  if  to  add  force 
and  point  to  the  remark. 

*'  Is  that  you,  Sam  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  springing  out  of  bed. 

"  Quite  unpossible  to  identify  any  gen'lm'n  vith  any  degree  o'  mental 
satisfaction,  vithout  lookin'  at  him,  Sir,"  replied  the  voice,  dogmatically. 

Mr.  Winkle,  not  much  doubting  who  the  young  man  was,  unlocked 
the  door;  which  he  had  no  sooner  done,  than  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  en- 
tered with  great  precipitation,  and  carefully  relocking  it  on  the  inside, 
deliberately  put  the  key  in  his  waistcoat  pocket ;  and,  after  surveying 
Mr.  Winkle  from  head  to  foot,  said — 

"  You  're  a  wery  humorous  young  gen'lm'n,  you  air.  Sir." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  this  conduct,  Sam?"  inquired  Mr. Winkle, 
indignantly.     "  Get  out,  Sir,  this  instant.     What  do  you  mean.  Sir?" 

"  What  do  /  mean,"  retorted  Sam  ;  "  come,  Sir,  this  is  rayther  too 
rich,  as  the  young  lady  said  ven  she  remonstrated  with  the  pastry- 
cook, arter  he  'd  sold  her  a  pork-pie  as  had  got  nothin'  but  fat  inside. 
What  do  /  mean  !     W^ell,  that  ain't  a  bad  'un,  that  ain't," 

"Unlock  that  door,  and  leave  this  room  immediatelv,  Sir,"  said  Mr. 
-Winkle. 

'*  I  shall  leave  this  here  room.  Sir,  just  percisely  at  the  wery  same 
moment  as  you  leaves  it,"  responded  Sam,  speaking  in  a  forcible  man- 
ner, and  seating  himself  with  perfect  gravity.  *'  If  I  find  it  necessary  to 
carry  you  away,  pick-a-back,  o'  course  I  shall  leave  it  the  least  bit  o' 
time  possible  afore  you;  but  allow  me  to  express  a  hope  as  you  won't 
reduce  me  to  ex-tremities :  in  saying  vich,  I  merely  quote  wot  the 
nobleman  said  to  the  fractious  penny  winkle,  ven  he  vouldn't  come  out 
of  his  shell  by  means  of  a  pin,  and  he  conseqvently  began  to  be  afeerd  that 


412  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

he  should  be  obliged  to  crack  him  in  the  parlour  door."  At  the  end  of 
this  address,  which  was  unusually  leno:thy  for  him,  Mr.  Weller  planted 
his  hands  on  his  knees,  and  looked  full  in  Mr.  Winkle's  face,  with  an 
expression  of  countenance  which  showed  that  he  had  not  the  remotest 
intention  of  being  trifled  with. 

"  You're  a  amiably-disposed  young  man,  Sir,  I  don't  think,"  resumed 
Mr.  Weller,  in  a  tone  of  moral  reproof^  "  to  go  inwolving  our  precious 
governor  in  all  sorts  o'  fanteegs,  ven  he's  made  up  his  mind  to  go 
through  ev'ry  think  for  principle.  You're  far  worse  nor  Dodson,  Sir ; 
and  as  for  Fogg,  I  consider  him  a  born  angel  to  you  ! "  Mr.  Weller 
having  accompanied  this  last  sentiment  with  an  emphatic  slap  on  each 
knee,  folded  his  arms  with  a  look  of  great  disgust,  and  threw  himself 
back  in  his  chair,  as  if  awaiting  the  criminal's  defence. 

*'  My  good  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  extending  his  hand — his  teeth 
chattering  all  the  time  he  spoke,  for  he  had  been  standing  during  the 
whole  of  Mr.  Weller's  lecture  in  his  night-gear,  ''  My  good  fellow,  I 
respect  your  attachment  to  my  excellent  friend,  and  I  am  very  sorrj 
indeed,  to  have  added  to  his  causes  for  disquiet.     There,  Sam,  there  I " 

*'  Well,"  said  Sam,  rather  sulkily,  but  giving  the  proffered  hand  a 
respectful  shake  at  the  same  time — "  Well,  so  you  ought  to  be,  and  I 
am  very  glad  to  Bnd  you  air  ;  for,  if  I  can  help  it,  I  won't  have  him  put 
upon  by  nobody,  and  that's  all  about  it." 

*'  Certainly  not,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Winkle.  "  There,  now  go  to  bed, 
Sam,  and  we'll  talk  further  about  this,  in  the  morning." 

*'  I'm  wery  sorry,"  said  Sam,  *'but  I  can't  goto  bed." 

"  Not  go  to  bed  !"  repeated  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  No,"  said  Sam,  shaking  his  head,  "  Can't  be  done." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you're  going  back  to-night,  Sam  ?  "  urged 
Mr.  Winkle,  greatly  surprised. 

"  Not  unless  you  particklerly  vish  it,"  replied  Sam  ;  "  but  I  mustn't 
leave  this  here  room.     The  governor's  orders  wos  peremptory." 

*'  Nonsense,  Sara,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  "  I  must  stop  here  two  or  three 
days ;  and  more  than  that,  Sam,  you  must  stop  here  too,  to  assist  me 
in  gaining  an  interview  with  a  young  lady — Miss  Allen,  Sam ;  you 
remember  her — whom  I  must  and  will  see  before  I  leave  Bristol." 

But  in  reply  to  each  of  these  positions,  Sam  shook  his  head  with 
great  firmness,  and  energetically  replied,  '^  It  can't  be  done." 

After  a  great  deal  of  argument  and  representation  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Winkle,  however,  and  a  full  disclosure  of  what  had  passed  in  the  inter- 
view with  Dowler,  Sam  began  to  waver ;  and  at  length  a  compromise 
was  effected,  of  which  the  following  were  the  main  and  principal  con- 
ditions : — 

That  Sam  should  retire,  and  leave  Mr.  Winkle  in  the  undisturbed 
possession  of  his  apartment,  on  condition  that  he  had  permission  to  lock 
the  door  on  the  outside,  and  carry  off  the  key  ;  provided  always,  that  in 
the  event  of  an  alarm  of  fire,  or  other  dangerous  contingency,  the  door 
should  be  instantly  unlocked.  That  a  letter  should  be  written  to  Mr. 
Pickwick  early  next  morning,  and  forwarded  per  Dowler,  requesting  his 
consent  to  Sam  and  Mr.  Winkle's  remaining  at  Bristol,  for  the  purpose 


THE  PICKWICK    CLUB.  413 

and  with  the  object  already  assigned,  and  bepg-ing-  an  answer  by  the 
next  coach  ;  if  favourable,  the  aforesaid  parties  to  remain  accordingly, 
and  if  not,  to  return  to  Bath  immediately  on  the  receipt  thereof.  And, 
lastly,  that  Mr.  Winkle  should  be  understood  as  distinctly  pledging  him- 
self not  to  resort  to  the  window,  fire-place,  or  other  surreptitious  mode 
of  escape  in  the  meanwhile.  These  stipulations  having  been  concluded, 
Sam  locked  the  door  and  departed. 

He  had  nearly  got  down  stairs,  when  he  stopped,  and  drew  the  key 
from  his  pocket. 

**  I  quite  forgot  about  the  knockin'  down,"  said  Sam,  half  turning 
back.  "  The  governor  distinctly  said  it  wos  to  be  done  ;  amazin'  stupid 
o'  me,  that  'ere  now.  Never  mind,"  said  Sam,  brightening  up,  "  It's 
easily  done  to-morrow,  anyvays." 

Apparently  much  consoled  by  this  reflection,  Mr.  Weller  once  more 
deposited  the  key  in  his  pocket,  and,  descending  the  remainder  of  the 
stairs  without  any  fresh  visitations  of  conscience,  was  soon,  in  common 
with  the  other  inmates  of  the  house,  buried  in  profound  repose. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII.    . 


MR.  SAMUEL  WELLER,  BEING  ENTRUSTED  WITH  A  MISSION  OF  LOVE, 
PROCEEDS  TO  EXECUTE  IT;  WITH  WHAT  SUCCESS  WILL  HEREIN- 
AFTER APPEAR. 

During  the  whole  of  next  day,  Sam  kept  Mr.  Winkle  steadily  in 
sight,  fully  determined  not  to  take  his  eyes  off  him  for  one  instant, 
until  he  should  receive  express  instructions  from  the  fountain-head. 
However  disagreeable  Sam's  very  close  watch  and  great  vigilance  were 
to  Mr.  Winkle,  he  thought  it  better  to  bear  with  them,  than,  by  any 
act  of  violent  opposition,  to  hazard  being  carried  away  by  force,  which 
Mr.  Weller  more  than  once  strongly  hinted  was  the  line  of  conduct 
that  a  strict  sense  of  duty  prompted  him  to  pursue.  There  is  little 
reason  to  doubt  that  Sam  would  very  speedily  have  quieted  his  scruples, 
by  bearing  Mr.  Winkle  back  to  Bath,  bound  hand  and  foot,  had  not  Mr. 
Pickwick's  prompt  attention  to  the  note,  which  Dowler  had  undertaken 
to  deliver,  forestalled  any  such  proceeding.  In  short,  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  Mr.  Pickwick  himself,  walked  into  the  coffee-room  of 
the  Bush  tavern,  and  told  Sam  with  a  smile,  to  his  very  great  relief, 
that  he  had  done  quite  right,  and  it  was  unnecessary  for  him  to  mount 
guard  any  longer. 

"  I  thought  it  better  to  come  myself,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  addressing 
Mr.  Winkle,  as  Sam  disencumbered  him  of  his  great-coat  and  travelling 
shawl,  "  to  ascertain,  before  I  gave  my  consent  to  Sara's  employment 
in  this  matter,  that  you  are  quite  in  earnest  and  serious,  with  respect 
to  this  young  lady." 


414  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

i    "  Serious,  from  my  heart — from  my  soul !"  returned  Mr.  Winkle, 
with  great  energy. 

"  Remember,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  beaming  eyes,  "  we  met  her 
at  our  excellent  and  hospitable  friend's,  Winkle.  It  would  be  an  ill 
return  to  tamper  lightly,  and  without  due  consideration,  with  this 
young  lady's  affections.     I  '11  not  allow  that,  Sir — I  '11  not  allow  it." 

"  I  have  no  such  intention,  indeed/'  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle  warmly. 
"  I  have  considered  the  matter  well,  for  a  long  time,  and  I  feel  that  my 
happiness  is  bound  up  in  her." 

"  That 's  wot  we  call  tying  it  up  in  a  small  parcel,  Sir,"  interposed 
Mr.  Weller,  with  an  agreeable  smile. 

Mr.  Winkle  looked  somewhat  stern  at  this  interruption,  and  Mr. 
Pickwick  angrily  requested  his  attendant  not  to  jest  with  one  of  the 
best  feehngs  of  our  nature ;  to  which  Sam  replied,  "  That  he  wouldn't, 
if  he  was  aware  on  it;  but  there  were  so  many  on  *em,  that  he  hardly 
know'd  which  was  the  best  ones  ven  he  heerd  'em  mentioned." 

Mr.  Winkle  then  recounted  what  had  passed  between  himself  and 
Mr.  Ben  Allen,  relative  to  Arabella,  stated  that  his  object  was  to  gain 
an  interview  with  the  young  lady,  and  make  a  formal  disclosure  of 
his  passion ;  and  declared  his  conviction,  founded  on  certain  dark 
hints  and  mutterings  of  the  aforesaid  Ben,  that,  wherever  she  was  at 
present  immured,  it  was  somewhere  near  the  Downs :  and  this  was  his 
whole  stock  of  knowledge  or  suspicion  upon  the  subject. 

With  this  very  slight  clue  to  guide  him,  it  was  determined  that  Mr. 
Weller  should  start  next  morning  on  an  expedition  of  discovery ;  it 
was  also  arranged  that  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Winkle,  who  were  less 
confident  of  their  powers,  should  parade  the  town  meanwhile,  and  acci- 
dentally drop  in  upon  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  in  the  course  of  the  day,  in  the 
hope  of  seeing  or  hearing  something  of  the  young  lady's  whereabout. 

Accordingly,  next  morning,  Sam  Weller  issued  forth  upon  his  quest, 
in  no  way  daunted  by  the  very  discouraging  prospect  before  him ;  and 
away  he  walked,  up  one  street  and  down  another — we  were  going  to 
say,  up  one  hill  and  down  another,  only  it 's  all  uphill  at  Clifton — 
without  meeting  with  any  thing  or  any  body  that  tended  to  throw  the 
faintest  light  upon  the  matter  in  hand.  Many  were  the  colloquies 
into  which  Sam  entered  with  grooms  who  were  airing  horses  on  roads, 
and  nursemaids  who  were  airing  children  in  lanes ;  but  nothing  could 
Sam  elicit  from  either  the  first-mentioned  or  the  last,  which  bore  the 
slightest  reference  to  the  object  of  his  artfully-prosecuted  inquiries. 
There  were  a  great  many  young  ladies  in  a  great  many  houses,  the 
greater  part  whereof  were  shrewdly  suspected  by  the  male  and  female^ 
domestics  to  be  deeply  attached  to  somebody,  or  perfectly  ready  to] 
become  so,  if  opportunity  offered.  But  as  none  among  these  young 
ladies  was  Miss  Arabella  Allen,  the  information  left  Sam  at  exactly] 
the  old  point  of  wisdom  at  which  he  had  stood  before. 

Sam  struggled  across  the  Downs  against  a  good  high  wind,  wonder-? 
ing  whether  it  was  always  necessary  to  hold  your  hat  on  with  both 
hands  in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  came  to  a  shady  by-place,  about 
which  were  sprinkled  several  little  villas  of  quiet  and  secluded  appear- 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  415 

ance  Outside  a  stable-door  at  the  bottom  of  a  long^  back  lane  without 
a  thoroughfare,  a  groom  in  undress  was  idling  about,  apparently  per- 
suading himself  that  he  was  doing  something  with  a  spade  and  a 
wheelbarrow.  We  may  remark,  in  this  place,  that  we  have  scarcely 
ever  seen  a  groom  near  a  stable,  in  his  lazy  moments,  who  has  not 
been,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  the  victim  of  this  singular  delusion. 

Sam  thought  he  might  as  well  talk  to  this  groom  as  to  any  one  else, 
especially  as  he  was  very  tired  with  walking,  and  there  was  a  good 
large  stone  just  opposite  the  wheelbarrow;  so  he  strolled  down  the 
lane,  and,  seating  himself  on  the  stone,  opened  a  conversation  with  the 
ease  and  freedom  for  which  he  was  remarkable. 
"  Mornin',  old  friend,"  said  Sam. 

"  Arternoon,  you  mean,"  replied  the  groom,  casting  a  surly  look  at 
Sam. 

"  You  're  wery  right,  old  friend,"  said  Sam ;  "  I  do  mean  arternoon. 
How  are  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  don't  find  myself  much  the  better  for  seeing  of  you,"  re- 
plied the  ill-tempered  groom. 

"  That 's  wery  odd — that  is,"  said  Sam,  *'  for  you  look  so  uncom- 
mon cheerful,  and  seem  altogether  so  lively,  that  it  does  vun's  heart 
good  to  see  you." 

The  surly  groom  looked  surlier  still  at  this,  but  not  sufBciently  so 
to  produce  any  effect  upon  Sam,  who  immediately  inquired,  with  a 
countenance  of  great  anxiety,  whether  his  master's  name  was  not 
Walker. 

"  No,  it  ain't,"  said  the  groom. 
"  Nor  Brown,  I  s'pose  ?  "  said  Sam. 
«  No,  it  ain't." 
"  Nor  Vilson?" 

"  No ;  nor  that  neither,"  said  the  groom. 

"  Veil,"  replied  Sam,  "  then  I  'm  mistaken,  and  he  hasn't  got  the 
honour  o'  my  acquaintance,  which  I  thought  he  had.  Don't  vait  here 
out  o'  compliment  to  me/'  said  Sam,  as  the  groom  wheeled  in  the  bar- 
row, and  prepared  to  shut  the  gate.  **  Ease  afore  ceremony,  old  boy  ; 
I  '11  excuse  you." 

"  I  'd  knock  your  head  off  for  half-a-crown,"  said  the  surly  groom, 
bolting  one  half  of  the  gate. 

"  Couldn't  afford  to  have  it  done  on  those  terms,"  rejoined  Sam. 
"  It  'ud  be  vurth  a  life's  board  vages,  at  least,  to  you,  and  'ud  be  cheap 
at  that.  Make  my  compliments  in-doors.  Tell  'em  not  to  vait  dinner 
for  me,  and  say  they  needn't  mind  puttin'  any  by,  for  it  *il  be  cold  afore 
I  come  in.'* 

In  reply  to  this,  the  groom,  waxing  very  wroth,  muttered  a  desire  to 
damage  somebody's  head  ;  but  disappeared  without  carrying  it  into  exe- 
cution, slamming  the  door  angrily  after  him,  and  wholly  unheeding 
Sam's  affectionate  request,  that  he  would  leave  him  a  lock  of  his  hair, 
before  he  went. 

Sam  continued  to  sit  on  the  large  stone,  meditating  upon  what  was 
best  to  be  done,  and  revolving  in  his  mind  a  plan  for  knocking  at  all  the 


416  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

doors  within  five  miles  of  Bristol,  taking  them  at  a  hundred  and  fifty  or 
two  hundred  a  day,  and  endeavouring  to  find  Miss  Arabella  by  that  ex- 
pedient, when  accident  all  of  a  sudden  threw  in  his  way  what  he  might 
have  sat  there  for  a  twelvemonth  and  yet  not  found  without  it. 

Into  the  lane  where  he  sat,  there  opened  three  or  four  garden  gates, 
belonging  to  as  many  houses,  which  though  detached  from  each  other, 
were  only  separated  by  their  gardens.  As  these  were  large  and  long, 
and  well  planted  with  trees,  the  houses  were  not  only  at  some  distance 
oif,  but  the  greater  part  of  them  were  nearly  concealed  from  view.  Sam 
was  sitting  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  dust-heap  outside  the  next 
gate  to  that  by  which  the  groom  had  disappeared,  profoundly  turning 
over  in  his  mind  the  difficulties  of  his  present  undertaking,  when  the 
gate  opened,  and  a  female  servant  came  out  into  the  lane  to  shake  some 
bed-side  carpets. 

Sam  was  so  very  busy  with  his  own  thoughts,  that  it  is  probable  he 
would  have  taken  no  more  notice  of  the  young  woman  than  just  raising 
his  head  and  remarking  that  she  had  a  very  neat  and  pretty  figure,  if  his 
feelings  of  gallantry  had  not  been  most  strongly  roused  by  observing  that 
she  had  no  one  to  help  her,  and  that  the  carpets  seemed  too  heavy  for  her 
single  strength.  Mr.  Weller  was  a  gentleman  of  great  gallantry  in  his 
own  way,  and  he  no  sooner  remarked  this  circumstance  than  he  hastily 
rose  from  the  large  stone,  and  advanced  towards  her. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Sam,  sliding  up  with  an  air  of  great  respect,  "  You'll 
spile  that  wery  pretty  figure  out  o'  all  perportion  if  you  shake  them 
carpets  by  yourself.     Let  me  help  you." 

The  young  lady,  who  had  been  coyly  affecting  not  to  know  that  a 
gentleman  was  so  near,  turned  round  as  Sam  spoke — no  doubt  (indeed 
she  said  so,  afterwards)  to  decline  this  offer  from  a  perfect  stranger — 
when  instead  of  speaking,  she  started  back,  and  uttered  a  half-^suppressed 
scream.  Sam  was  scarcely  less  staggered,  for  in  the  countenance  of  the 
well-shaped  female  servant,  he  beheld  the  very  features  of  his  Valentine 
— the  pretty  housemaid  from  Mr.  Nupkins's. 

"  Wy,  Mary  my  dear  !  "  said  Sam.  i 

"  Lauk,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mary,  "  how  you  do  frighten  one !" 

Sam  made  no  verbal  answer  to  this  complaint,  nor  can  we  precisely 
say  what  reply  he  did  make.  We  merely  know  that  after  a  short  pause 
Mary  said,  *'  Lor  do  adun  Mr.  Weller,"  and  that  his  hat  had  fallen  off 
a  few  moments  before — from  both  of  which  tokens  we  should  be  disposed 
to  infer  that  one  kiss,  or  more,  had  passed  between  the  parties. 

"  Why,  how  did  you  come  here  ?  "  said  Mary,  when  the  conversation 
to  which  this  interruption  had  been  offered,  was  resumed. 

"  O'  course  I  came  to  look arter  you,  my  darlin,"  replied  Mr.  Weller; 
for  once  permitting  his  passion  to  get  the  better  of  his  veracity. 

"  And  how  did  you  know  I  was  here  ?  "  inquired  Mary.  \  "  Who  could 
have  told  you  that  I  took  another  service  at  Ipswich,  and  that  they 
afterwards  moved  all  the  way  here  ?  Who  could  have  told  you  that, 
Mr.  Weller?" 

"  Ah  to  be  sure,"  said  Sam  with  a  cunning  look,  "  that's  the  pint. 
Who  could  ha'  told  me  ?  " 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  417 

"  It  wasn't  Mr.  Muzzle,  was  it  ?  "  inquired  Mary. 

"  Oh  no,"  replied  Sam,  with  a  solemn  shake  of  the  head,  "  it  warn't 
him." 

"  It  must  haye  been  the  cook,"  said  Mary. 

"  O'  course  it  must,"  said  Sam. 

»*  Well,  I  never  heard  the  like  of  that!"  exclaimed  Mary. 

"  No  more  did  I,"  said  Sam.  "  But  Mary,  my  dear — "  here  Sam's 
manner  grew  extremely  affectionate — "  Mary  my  dear,  I've  got  another 
a£Pair  in  hand  as  is  wery  pressin'.  There's  one  o'  my  governor's  friends 
—Mr.  Winkle — you  remember  him." 

"  Him  in  the  green  coat? "  said  Mary.     "  Oh  yes,  I  remember  him." 

*'  Well,"  said  Sam,  "  he's  in  a  horrid  state  o*  love;  reg'larly  corn- 
foozled,  and  done  over  vith  it." 

"  Lor !  "  interposed  Mary. 

"  Yes,"  said  Sam ;  "  but  that's  nothin'  if  we  could  only  find  out  the 
young  'ooman  " — and  here  Sam,  with  many  digressions  upon  the  per- 
sonal beauty  of  Mary,  and  the  unspeakable  tortures  he  had  experienced 
since  he  last  saw  her,  gave  a  faithful  account  of  Mr.  Winkle's  present 
predicament. 

"  Well  I "  said  Mary,  «  I  never  did ! " 

"  O*  course  not,"  said  Sam,  "  and  nobody  never  did,  nor  never  vill 
neither ;  and  here  am  I  a  walkin'  about  like  the  wanderin'  Jew — a 
sportin'  character  you  have  perhaps  heerd  on  Mary  ray  dear,  as  wos 
alvays  doin'  a  match  agin'  time,  and  never  vent  to  sleep — looking  arter 
this  here  Miss  Arabella  Allen." 

"  Miss  who?"  said  Mary,  in  great  astonishment. 

•*  Miss  Arabella  Allen,"  said  Sam. 

"  Goodness  gracious !"  said  Mary,  pointing  to  the  garden-door  which 
the  sulky  groom  had  locked  after  him.  ^' Why  it's  that  very  house; 
she's  been  living  there  these  six  weeks.  Their  upper  housemaid,  which 
ie  lady's  maid  too,  told  me  all  about  it  over  the  wash-house  palin's  before 
the  family  was  out  of  bed,  one  mornin'." 

*'  Wot,  the  wery  next  door  to  you?"  said  Sam. 

"  The  very  next,"  replied  Mary. 

Mr.  Weller  was  so  deeply  overcome  at  receiving  this  intelligence  that 
he  found  it  absolutely  necessary  to  cling  to  his  fair  informant  for  sup- 
port, and  divers  little  love  passages  had  passed  between  them,  before  he 
was  sufficiently  collected  to  return  to  the  subject. 

"  Veil,"  said  Sam  at  length,  "  if  this  don't  beat  cock-fightin',  nothin' 
never  vill,  as  the  Lord  Mayor  said  ven  the  chief  secretary  o'  state  pro- 
posed his  missis's  health  arter  dinner.  That  wery  next  house  I  Wy, 
I've  got  a  message  to  her  as  I've  been  a  tryin'  all  day  to  deliver." 

"  Ah,"  said  Mary,  '<  but  you  can't  deliver  it  now,  because  she  only 
walks  in  the  garden  in  the  evening,  and  then  only  for  a  very  little  time  ; 
•he  never  goes  out,  without  the  old  lady." 

Sam  ruminated  for  a  few  moments,  and  finally  hit  upon  the  following- 
plan  of  operations ;  that  he  should  return  just  at  dusk — the  time  at 
which  Arabella  invariably  took  her  walk — and  being  admitted  by  Mary 
into  the  garden  of  the  house  to  which  she  belonged,  contrive  to  scramble 


418  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

up  the  wall,  beneath  the  overhanging-  boughs  of  a  large  pear-tree,  which 
would  effectually  screen  him  from  observation  ;  there  deliver  his  mes- 
sage, and  arrange,  if  possible,  an  interview  on  behalf  of  Mr.  Winkle  for 
the  ensuing  evening  at  the  same  hour.  Having  made  this  arrangement 
with  great  dispatch,  he  assisted  Mary  in  the  long-deferred  occupation  of 
shaking  the  carpets. 

It  is  not  half  as  innocent  a  thing  as  it  looks,  that  shaking^  little 
pieces  of  carpet — at  least,  there  may  be  no  great  harm  in  the  shaking, 
but  the  folding  is  a  very  insidious  process.  So  long  as  the  shaking 
lasts,  and  the  two  parties  are  kept  the  carpet's  length  apart,  it  is  as 
innocent  an  amusement  as  can  well  be  devised,  but  when  the  folding 
begins,  and  the  distance  between  them  gets  gradually  lessened  from  one- 
half  its  former  length  to  a  quarter,  and  then  to  an  eighth,  and  then  to  a 
sixteenth,  and  then  to  a  thirty- second  if  the  carpet  be  long  enough,  it 
becomes  dangerous.  We  do  not  know  to  a  nicety  how  many  pieces  of 
carpet  were  folded  in  this  instance,  but  we  can  venture  to  state  that  as 
many  pieces  as  there  were,  so  many  times  did  Sam  kiss  the  pretty 
housemaid. 

Mr.  Weller  regaled  himself  with  moderation  at  the  nearest  tavern 
until  it  was  nearly  dusk,  and  then  returned  to  the  lane  without  the 
thoroughfare.  Having  been  admitted  into  the  garden  by  Mary,  and  re- 
ceived from  that  lady  sundry  admonitions  concerning  the  safety  of  his 
limbs  and  neck,  Sam  mounted  into  the  pear-tree,  to  wait  until  Arabella 
should  come  in  sight. 

He  waited  so  long  without  this  anxiously-expected  event  occurring, 
that  he  began  to  think  it  was  not  going  to  take  place  at  ail,  when  he 
heard  light  footsteps  upon  the  gravel,  and  immediately  afterwards  beheld 
Arabella  walking  pensively  down  the  garden.  As  soon  as  she  came 
nearly  below  the  tree,  Sam  began,  by  way  of  gently  indicating  his  pre- 
sence, to  make  sundry  diabolical  noises  similar  to  those  which  would 
probably  be  natural  to  a  person  who  had  been  afflicted  with  a  combina- 
tion of  inflammatory  sore  throat,  croup,  and  hooping-cough,  from  his 
earliest  infancy. 

Upon  this,  the  young  lady  cast  a  hurried  glance  towards  the  spot 
from  whence  the  dreadful  sounds  proceeded;  and  her  previous  alarm 
being  not  at  all  diminished  when  she  saw  a  man  among  the  branches, 
she  would  most  certainly  have  decamped,  and  alarmed  the  house,  had  not 
fear  fortunately  deprived  her  of  the  power  of  moving,  and  caused  her  to 
isink  down  on  a  garden-seat  which  happened  by  good  luck  to  be  near  at 
hand. 

"  She's  a  goin  off,"  soliloquised  Sam  in  great  perplexity.  "  Wot  a 
thing  it  is,  as  these  here  young  creeturs  will  go  a  faintin  avay  just  ven 
they  oughtn't  to.  Here,  young  'ooman,  Miss  Sawbones,  Mrs.  Vinkle, 
don't." 

Whether  it  was  the  magic  of  Mr.  Winkle's  name,  or  the  coolness  of 
the  open  air,  or  some  recollection  of  Mr.  Weller's  voice,  that  revived 
Arabella,  matters  not.  She  raised  her  head  and  languidly  inquired 
*'  Who's  that,  and  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Hush/'  said  Sam,  swinging  himself  on  to  the  wall,  and  crouching 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  419 

there  in  as  small  a  compass  as  he  could  reduce  himself  to,  "  only  me, 
JVIiss,  only  me." 

"  Mr.  Pickwick's  servant !  "  said  Arabella,  earnestly. 

«  The  wery  same,  Miss,"  replied  Sam.  "  Here's  Mr.  Vinkle  reg'larly 
sewed  up  vith  desperation,  Miss." 

*'  Ah  I  "  said  Arabella,  drawing  nearer  the  wall. 

*<  Ah  indeed,"  said  Sam.  "  Ve  thought  ve  should  ha'  been  obliged 
to  straight-veskit  him  last  night ;  he's  been  a  ravin'  all  day,  and  he  says 
if  he  can't  see  you  afore  to-morrow  night's  over,  he  vishes  he  may  be 
somethin'-unpleasanted  if  he  don't  drownd  hisself." 

"  Oh  no,  no,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Arabella,  claspin;^  her  hands. 

*'  That's  wot  he  says,  Miss,"  replied  Sam  coolly.  "  He's  a  man  of 
his  word,  and  it's  my  opinion  he'll  do  it,  Miss.  He's  heerd  all  about 
you  from  the  Sawbones  in  barnacles." 

"  From  my  brother  I "  said  Arabella,  having  some  faint  recognition  of 
Sam's  description. 

**  I  don't  rightly  know  which  is  your  brother,  Miss,"  replied  Sara. 
*'  Is  it  the  dirtiest  vun  o'  the  two?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  Mr.  Weller,"  returned  Arabella,  "  go  on.  Make  haste, 
pray." 

**  Veil  Miss,"  said  Sam,  ''  he's  heerd  all  about  it  from  him ;  and  it's 
thegov'nor's  opinion  that  if  you  don't  see  him  wery  quick,  the  Sawbones 
as  we've  been  a  speakin'  on,  'uU  get  as  much  extra  lead  in  his  head  as'U 
rayther  damage  the  dewelopement  o'  the  orgins  if  they  ever  put  it  in 
spirits  artervards." 

"  Oh,  what  can  I  do  to  prevent  these  dreadful  quarrels,"  exclaimed 
Arabella. 

*'  It's  the  suspicion  of  a  priory  'tachment  as  is  the  cause  of  it  all,"  re- 
plied Sam.     *'  You'd  better  see  him.  Miss." 

"  But  how  ? — where  ?  "  cried  Arabella.  "  I  dare  not  leave  the  house 
alone.  My  brother  is  so  unkind,  so  unreasonable.  I  know  how  strange 
my  talking  thus  to  you  must  appear,  Mr.  Weller,  but  I  am  very,  very  un- 
happy— "  and  here  poor  Arabella  wept  so  bitterly,  that  Sam  grew 
chivalrous. 

**  It  may  seem  wery  strange  talkin'  to  me  about  these  here  affairs. 
Miss,"  said  Sam  with  great  vehemence  ;  "  but  all  I  can  say  is,  that  I'm 
not  only  ready  but  villin'  to  do  anythin'  as'll  make  matters  agreeable ; 
and  if  chuckin'  either  o'  them  Sawbones  out  o'  winder  'uU  do  it,  I'm  the 
man."  As  Sam  Weller  said  this,  he  tucked  up  his  wristbands,  at  the 
imminent  hazard  of  falling  off  the  wall  in  so  doing,  to  intimate  his  rea- 
diness to  set  to  work  immediately. 

Flattering  as  these  professions  of  good  feeling  were,  Arabella  reso- 
lutely declined  (most  unaccountably,  as  Sam  thought,)  to  avail  herself 
of  them.  For  some  time  she  strenuously  refused  to  grant  Mr.  Winkle 
the  interview  Sam  had  so  pathetically  requested  ;  but  at  length,  when 
the  conversation  threatened  to  be  interrupted  by  the  unwelcome  arrival 
of  a  third  party,  she  hurriedly  gave  him  to  understand,  with  many  pro- 
fessions of  gratitude,  that  it  was  barely  possible  she  might  be  in  the 

H    H 


420  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

garden  an  hour  later,  next  evening.  Sam  understood  this  perfectly 
well,  and  Arabella,  bestowing  upon  him  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles, 
tripped  gracefully  away,  leaving  Mr.  Weller  in  a  state  of  very  great 
admiration  of  her  charms,  both  personal  and  mental. 

Having  descended  in  safety  from  the  wall,  and  not  forgotten  to  de- 
vote a  few  moments  to  his  own  particular  business  in  the  same  depart- 
ment, Mr.  Weller  then  made  the  best  of  his  May  back  to  the  Bush, 
where  his  prolonged  absence  had  occasioned  much  speculation  and  some 
alarm. 

^  *'  We  must  be  careful,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  listening  atten- 
tively to  Sam's  tale,  "  not  for  our  own  sakes,  but  for  that  of  the  young 
lady.     We  must  be  very  cautious." 

"  We/"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  with  marked  emphasis. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  momentary  look  of  indignation  at  the  tone  of  this 
remark,  subsided  into  his  characteristic  expression  of  benevolence,  as 
lie  replied — 

"  We,  Sir !     I  shall  accompany  you." 

"  You  ! "  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  I,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  mildly.  "  In  affording  you  this  inter- 
vieWj  the  young  lady  has  taken  a  natural,  perhaps,  but  still  a  very  im- 
prudent step.  If  I  am  present  at  the  meeting — a  mutual  friend,  who 
is  old  enough  to  be  the  father  of  both  parties — the  voice  of  calumny 
can  never  be  raised  against  her,  hereafter." 

Mr.  Pickwick's  eyes  lightened  with  honest  exultation  at  his  own 
foresight,  as  he  spoke  thus.  Mr.  Winkle  was  touched  at  this  little 
trait  of  his  delicate  respect  for  the  young  protegee  of  his  friend,  and 
took  his  hand  with  a  feeling  of  regard  akin  to  veneration, 

"  You  shall  go"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

**  I  will,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  *'  Sam,  have  my  great-coat  and  shawl 
ready,  and  order  a  conveyance  to  be  at  the  door  to-morrow  evening, 
rather  earlier  than  is  absolutely  necessary,  in  order  that  we  may  be  in 
good  time." 

Mr.  Weller  touched  his  hat,  as  an  earnest  of  his  obedience,  and  with- 
drew to  make  all  needful  preparations  for  the  expedition. 

The  coach  was  punctual  to  the  time  appointed ;  and  Mr.  Weller,  after 
duly  installing  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Winkle  inside,  took  his  seat  on 
the  box  by  the  driver.  They  alighted,  as  had  been  agreed  on,  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  place  of  rendezvous,  and  desiring  the  coach- 
man to  await  their  return,  proceeded  the  remaining  distance  on  foot. 

It  was  at  this  stage  of  the  undertaking  that  Mr.  Pickwick,  with 
many  smiles  and  various  other  indications  of  great  self  satisfaction, 
produced  from  one  of  his  coat  pockets  a  dark  lantern,  with  which  he 
had  specially  provided  himself  for  the  occasion,  and  the  great  mechani- 
cal beauty  of  which,  he  proceeded  to  explain  to  Mr.  Winkle,  as  they 
walked  along,  to  the  no  small  surprise  of  the  few  stragglers  they  met. 

"  I  should  have  been  the  better  for  something  of  this  kind,  in  my 
last  garden  expedition,  at  night ;  eh,  Sam  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  look- 
ing good-humouredly  round  at  his  follower,  who  was  trudging  behind. 


1 


i 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  421 


Wery  nice  things,  if  they're  managed  properly,  Sir,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller ;  "but  when  you  don't  want  to  be  seen,  I  think  they're 
rayther  more  useful  arter  the  candle  's  gone  out,  than  ven  it 's  alight." 

Mr.  Pickwick  appeared  struck  by  Sam's  remark,  for  he  put  the  lan- 
tern into  his  pocket  again,  and  they  walked  on  in  silence. 

"  Down  here.  Sir,"  said  Sam.  "Let  me  lead  the  vay.  This  is  the 
lane.  Sir." 

Down  the  lane  they  went,  and  dark  enough  it  was.  Mr.  Pickwick 
brought  out  the  lantern  once  or  twice  as  they  groped  their  way  along, 
and  threw  a  very  brilliant  little  tunnel  of  light  before  them,  about  a 
foot  in  diameter.  It  was  very  pretty  to  look  at,  but  seemed  to  have 
the  effect  of  rendering  surrounding  objects  rather  darker  than  before. 

At  length  they  arrived  at  the  large  stone,  and  here  Sam  recom- 
mended his  master  and  Mr.  ^Vinkle  to  seat  themselves,  while  he 
reconnoitred,  and  ascertained  whether  Mary  was  yet  in  waiting. 

After  an  absence  of  five  or  ten  minutes,  Sam  returned,  to  say  that 
the  gate  was  opened,  and  all  quiet.  Following  him  with  stealthy  tread, 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Winkle  soon  found  themselves  in  the  garden. 
Here  everybody  said,  "  Hush  !  "  a  good  many  times  ;  and  that  being 
done,  no  one  seemed  to  have  any  very  distinct  apprehension  of  what 
was  to  be  done  next. 

"  Is  JNIiss  Allen  in  the  garden  yet,  Mary  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Winkle, 
much  agitated. 

"  I  don't  know,  Sir,"  replied  the  pretty  housemaid.  "  The  best 
thing  to  be  done.  Sir,  will  be  for  Mr.  Weller  to  give  you  a  hoist  up 
into  the  tree,  and  perhaps  Mr.  Pickwick  will  have  the  goodness  to  see 
that  nobody  comes  up  the  lane,  while  I  watch  at  the  other  end  of  the 
garden.     Goodness  gracious,  what's  that?  " 

"  That  'ere  blessed  lantern  'uU  be  the  death  on  us  all,"  exclaimed 
Sam,  peevishly.  "  Take  care  wot  you're  a  doin'  on,  Sir,  you're  a 
sendin'  a  blaze  o'  light,  right  into  the  back  parlor  vinder." 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  turning  hastily  aside,  "  I  didn't 
mean  to  do  that." 

"  Now  it's  in  the  next  house.  Sir,"  remonstrated  Sam. 

"  Bless  my  heart !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  turning  round  again. 

"  Now  it's  in  the  stable,  and  they'll  think  the  place  is  a'  fire,"  said 
Sara.     "  Shut  it  up,  Sir,  can't  you  ?" 

"  It's  the  most  extraordinary  lantern  I  ever  met  with,  in  all  my  life  !  " 
exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  greatly  bewildered  by  the  effects  he  had  so 
unintentionally  produced.     "  I  never  saw  such  a  powerful  reflector." 

"  It  '11  be  vun  too  powerful  for  us,  if  you  keep  blazin'  avay  in  that 
manner,  Sir,"  replied  Sam,  as  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  various  unsuccessful 
efforts,  managed  to  close  the  slide.  "  There's  the  young  lady's  foot- 
steps.    Now,  Mr.  Vinkle,  Sir,  up  vith  you." 

"  Stop,  stop  !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  must  speak  to  her  first.  Help 
me  up,  Sam." 

"  Gently,  Sir,"  said  Sam,  planting  his  head  against  the  wall,  and 
making  a  platform  of  his  back.  "  Step  a  top  o'  that  'ere  fiower-pot, 
Sir.     Now  then,  up  vith  you." 

H  H  2 


422  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


1 


"  I'm  afraid  I  shall  hurt  you,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Never  mind  me,  Sir,"  replied  Sam.  "Lend  him  a  hand,  Mr. 
Vinkle,  Sir.     Steady,  Sir,  steady  ;  that's  the  time  o'  day." 

As  Sam  spoke,  Mr.  Pickwick,  by  exertions  almost  supernatural  in  a 
gentleman  of  his  years  and  weight,  contrived  to  get  upon  Sam's  hack ; 
and  Sam  gently  raising  himself  up,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  holding  on  fast 
by  the  top  of  the  wall,  while  Mr.  Winkle  clasped  him  tight  by  the  legs, 
they  contrived  by  these  means  to  bring  his  spectacles  just  above  the 
level  of  the  coping. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  over  the  wall,  and  catching 
sight  of  Arabella,  on  the  other  side,  "  Don't  be  frightened,  my  dear, 
'tis  only  me." 

**  Oh  pray  go  away,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Arabella.  "  Tell  them  all 
to  go  away,  I  am  so  dreadfully  frightened.  Dear,  dear  Mr.  Pickwick, 
don't  stop  there.      You'll  fall  down  and  kill  yourself,  I  know  you  will." 

*'  Now  pray  don't  alarm  yourself,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
soothingly.  "  There  is  not  the  least  cause  for  fear,  I  assure  you. 
Stand  firm,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  down. 

"  All  right,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "  Don't  be  longer  than  you 
can  conweniently  help,  Sir.     You're  rayther  heavy." 

*'  Only  another  moment,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  ^ 

"  I  merely  wdshed  you  to  know,  my  dear,  that  I  should  not  have 
allowed  my  young  friend  to  see  you  in  this  clandestine  way,  if  the 
situation  in  which  you  are  placed  had  left  him  any  alternative ;  and 
lest  the  impropriety  of  this  step  should  cause  you  any  uneasiness,  my 
love,  it  may  be  a  satisfaction  to  you,  to  know  that  I  am  present :  that's 
all,  my  dear." 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your 
kindness  and  consideration,"  replied  Arabella,  drying  her  tears  with 
her  handkerchief.  She  would  probably  have  said  much  more,  had  not 
Mr.  Pickwick's  head  disappeared  with  great  swiftness,  in  consequence 
of  a  false  step  on  Sam's  shoulder,  which  brought  him  suddenly  to  the 
ground.  He  was  up  again  in  an  instant,  however ;  and  bidding  Mr. 
Winkle  make  haste  and  get  the  interview  over,  ran  out  into  the  lane 
to  keep  watch,  with  all  the  courage  and  ardour  of  a  youth.  Mr.  Win- 
kle himself,  inspired  by  the  occasion,  was  on  the  wall  in  a  moment, 
merely  pausing  to  request  Sam  to  be  careful  of  his  master. 

*'  I'll  take  care  on  him,  Sir,"  replied  Sam.     "  Leave  him  to  me." 

"  Where  is  he  ?     What's  he  doing,  Sam  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Winkle.    • 

*'  Bless  his  old  gaiters,"  rejoined  Sam,  looking  out  at  the  garden- 
door.  "  He's  a  keepin'  guard  in  the  lane  vith  that  'ere  dark  lantern 
like  a  amiable  Guy  Fawkes.  I  never  see  such  a  fine  creetur  in  my 
days.  Blessed  if  I  don't  think  his  heart  must  ha'  been  born  five-and- 
twenty  year  arter  his  body,  at  least !  " 

Mr.  Winkle  stayed  not  to  hear  the  encomium  upon  his  friend.  He 
had  dropped  from  the  wall ;  thrown  himself  at  Arabella's  feet ;  and  by 
this  time  was  pleading  the  sincerity  of  his  passion  with  an  eloquence 
worthy  even  of  Mr.  Pickwick  himself. 

While  these  things  were  going  on  in  the  open  air,  an  elderly  gentle* 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB.  423 

man  of  scientific  attainments  was  seated  in  his  library,  two  or  three 
houses  off,  writing  a  philosophical  treatise,  and  ever  and  anon  moisten- 
ing his  clay  and  his  labours  with  a  glass  of  claret  from  a  veneral)le- 
looking  bottle  which  stood  by  his  side.  In  the  agonies  of  composition, 
the  elderly  gentleman  looked  sometimes  at  the  carpet,  sometimes  at 
the  ceiling,  and  sometimes  at  the  wall ;  and  when  neither  carpet, 
ceiling,  nor  wall  afforded  the  requisite  degree  of  inspiration,  he  looked 
out  of  the  window. 

In  one  of  these  pauses  of  invention,  the  scientific  gentleman  was 
gazing  abstractedly  on  the  thick  darkness  outside,  when  he  was  very 
much  surprised  by  observing  a  most  brilliant  light  glide  through  the 
air  a  short  distance  above  the  ground,  and  almost  instantaneously 
vanish.  After  a  short  time  the  phenomenon  was  repeated,  not  once 
or  twice,  but  several  times  :  at  last  the  scientific  gentleman,  laying 
down  his  pen,  began  to  consider  to  what  natural  causes  these  appear- 
ances were  to  be  assigned. 

They  were  not  meteors  ;  they  were  too  low.  They  were  not  glow- 
worms ;  they  were  too  high.  They  were  not  will-o'-the-wisps :  they 
were  not  fire-flies  ;  they  were  not  fire-works.  What  could  they  be  ? 
Some  extraordinary  and  wonderful  phenomenon  of  nature,  which  no 
philosopher  had  ever  seen  before ;  something  which  it  had  been  re- 
served for  him  alone  to  discover,,  and  which  he  should  immortalise 
his  name  by  chronicling  for  the  benefit  of  posterity.  Full  of  this  idea, 
the  scientific  gentleman  seized  his  pen  again,  and  committed  to  paper 
sundry  notes  of  these  unparalleled  appearances,  with  the  date,  day, 
hour,  minute,  and  precise  second  at  which  they  were  visible,  all  of 
which  were  to  form  the  data  of  a  voluminous  treatise  of  great 
research  and  deep  learning,  which  should  astonish  all  the  atmospherical 
wiseacres    that  ever  drew  breath  in  any  part  of  the  civilised  globe. 

He  threw  himself  back  in  his  easy  chair,  wrapt  in  contemplations  of 
his  future  greatness.  The  mysterious  light  appeared  more  brilliantly 
than  before  ;  dancing  to  all  appearance  up  and  down  the  lane,  crossing 
from  side  to  side,  and  moving  in  an  orbit  as  eccentric  as  comets  them- 
selves. 

The  scientific  gentleman  was  a  bachelor.  He  had  no  wife  to  call  in 
and  astonish,  so  he  rang  the  bell  for  his  servant. 

**  Pruffle,"  said  the  scientific  gentleman,  *'  there  is^  something  very 
extraordinary  in  the  air  to-night.  Did  you  see  that?"  said  the  scien- 
tific gentleman,  pointing  out  of  the  window,  as  the  light  again  became 
visible. 

''  Yes  I  did.  Sir." 

*'  What  do  you  think  of  it,  Pruffle?" 

"Think  of  it.  Sir?" 

"  Yes.  You  have  been  bred  up  in  the  country.  What  should  you 
say  was  the  cause  of  those  lights,  now  ?' 

The  scientific  gentleman  smilingly  anticipated  Pruffle's  reply  that  he 
could  assign  no  cause  for  them  at  all.     Pruffle  meditated. 

*<  I  should  say  it  was  thieves.  Sir,"  said  Pruffle  at  length. 


I 


424  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

*'  You're  a  fool,  and  may  go  down  stairs  " — said  the  scientific  gentle- 
man. 

"  Thank  you  Sir" — said  Pniffle.  And  down  he  went. 
But  the  scientific  gentleman  could  not  rest  under  the  idea  of  the  in- 
genious treatise  he  had  projected,  being  lost  to  the  world,  which  mUvSt 
inevitably  be  the  case,  if  the  speculation  of  the  ingenious  Mr.  Pruffle 
were  not  stifled  in  its  birth.  He  put  on  his  hat  and  walked  quickly 
down  the  garden,  determined  to  investigate  the  matter  to  the  very 
bottom. 

Now,  shortly  before  the  scientific  gentleman' walked  out  into  the  gar- 
den, Mr.  Pickwick  had  run  down  the  lane  as  fast  as  he  could,  to  con- 
vey a  false  alarm  that  somebody  was  coming  that  way,  occasionally 
drawing  back  the  slide  of  the  dark  lantern  to  keep  himself  from  the 
ditch.  The  alarm  was  no  sooner  given,  than  Mr.  Winkle  scrambled 
back  over  the  wall,  and  Arabella  ran  into  the  house ; — the  garden  gate 
was  shut,  and  the  three  adventurers  were  making  the  best  of  their  way 
down  the  lane,  when  they  were  startled  by  the  scientific  gentleman  un- 
locking his  garden  gate. 

<^  Hold  hard,"  whispered  Sam,  who  was  of  course  the  first  of  the  party. 
"  Show  a  light  for  just  vun  second,  Sir." 

Mr.  Pickwick  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  Sam  seeing  a  man's  head 
peeping  out  very  cautiously,  within  half  a  yard  of  his  own,  gave  it  a 
gentle  tap  with  his  clenched  fist,  which  knocked  it  with  a  hollow  sound 
against  the  gate.  Having  performed  this  feat  with  great  suddenness 
and  dexterity,  Mr.  Weller  caught  Mr.  Pickwick  up  on  his  back,  and 
followed  Mr.  Winkle  down  the  lane  at  a  pace  which,  considering  the 
burden  he  carried,  was  perfectly  astonishing. 

"  Have  you  got  your  vind  back  agin.  Sir?"  enquired  Sam  when  they 
had  reached  the  end. 

"  Quite — quite  now,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

<'  Then  come  along,  Sir,"  said  Sam,  setting  his  master  on  his  feet 
again.  "  Come  betveen  us.  Sir.  Not  half  a  mile  to  run.  Think  you're 
vinnin  a  cup.  Sir.     Now  for  it." 

Thus  encouraged,  Mr.  Pickwick  made  the  very  best  use  of  his  legs, 
and  it  may  be  confidently  stated  that  a  pair  of  black  gaiters  never  got 
over  the  ground  in  better  style  than  did  those  of  Mr.  Pickwick  on  this 
memorable  occasion. 

The  coach  was  waiting,  the  horses  were  fresh,  the  roads  were  good, 
and  the  driver  was  willing.  The  whole  party  arrived  in  safety  at  the 
Bush  before  Mr.  Pickwick  had  recovered  his  breath. 

<'  In  vith  you  at  once  Sir,"  said  Sam,  as  he  helped  his  master  out. 
«  Don't  stop  a  second  in  the  street,  arter  tjaat  'ere  exercise.  Beg  your 
pardon.  Sir,"  continued  Sam,  touching  his  hat  as  Mr.  Winkle  descended, 
"  Hope  there  warn't  a  priory  'tachment,  Sir." 

Mr.  Winkle  grasped  his  humble  friend  by  the  hand,  and  whispered  in 
his  ear,  "It's  all  right,  Sam;  quite  right  "—upon  which  Mr.  Weller 
struck  three  distinct  blows  upon  his  nose  in  token  of  intelligence; 
smiled,  winked,  and  proceeded  to  put  the  steps  up  with  a  countenance 

S 


i 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB.  425 

expressive  of  lively  satisfaction.  As  to  the  scientific  p^entleman,  he 
demonstrated  in  a  masterly  treatise  that  these  wonderful  lights  were  the 
effect  of  electricity,  and  clearly  proved  the  same  by  detailings  how  a  Hash 
of  fire  danced  before  his  eyes  when  he  put  his  head  out  of  the  gate,  and 
how  he  received  a  shock  which  stunned  him  for  a  full  quarter  of  an 
hour  afterwards;  which  demonstration  delighted  all  the  Scientific  Asso- 
ciations beyond  measure,  and  caused  him  to  be  considered  a  light  of 
science  ever  afterwards. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


INTRODUCES     MR.     PICKWICK     TO    A     NEW,    AND     IT     IS     HOPED    NOT 
UNINTERESTING  SCENE,  IN  THE  GREAT  DRAMA  OF  LIFE. 

The  remainder  of  the  period  which  Mr.  Pickwick  had  assigned  as 
the  duration  of  the  stay  at  Bath,  passed  over  without  the  occurrence  of 
anything  material.  Trinity  Term  commenced.  On  the  expiration 
of  its  first  week,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  returned  to  London, 
and  the  former  gentleman,  attended  of  course  by  Sam,  straightway 
repaired  to  his  old  quarters  at  the  George  and  Vulture. 

On  the  third  morning  after  their  arrival,  just  as  all  the  clocks  in  the 
city  were  striking  nine  individually,  and  somewhere  about  nine  hundred 
collectively,  Sam  was  taking  the  air  in  George  Yard,  when  a  queer  sort 
of  fresh  painted  vehicle  drove  up,  out  of  which  there  jumped  with  great 
agility,  throwing  the  reins  to  a  stout  man  who  sat  beside  him,  a  queer 
sort  of  gentleman,  who  seemed  made  for  the  vehicle,  and  the  vehicle  for 
him. 

The  vehicle  was  not  exactly  a  gig,  neither  was  it  a  stanhope.  It  was 
.not  what  is  currently  denominated  a  dog-cart,  neither  was  it  a  taxed 
cart,  nor  a  chaise-cart,  nor  a  guillotined  cabriolet;  and  yet  it  had  some- 
thing of  the  character  of  each  and  every  of  these  machines.  It  was  painted 
a  bright  yellow,  with  the  shafts  and  wheels  picked  out  in  black  ;  and  the 
driver  sat  in  the  orthodox  sporting  style,  on  cushions  piled  about  two 
feet  above  the  rail.  The  horse  was  a  bay,  a  well-looking  animal  enough; 
but  with  something  of  a  flash  and  dog-fighting  air  about  him,  neverthe 
less,  which  accorded  admirably,  both  with  the  vehicle  and  his  master. 

The  master  himself  was  a  man  of  about  forty,  with  black  hair,  and 
carefully  combed  whiskers ;  dressed  in  a  particularly  gorgeous  manner, 
with  plenty  of  articles  of  jewellery  about  him — all  about  three  sizes 
larger  than  those  which  are  usually  worn  by  gentlemen— and  a  rough 
great-coat  to  crown  the  whole.  Into  one  pocket  of  this  great-coat,  he 
thrust  his  left  hand  the  moment  he  dismounted,  while  from  the  other 
he  drew  forth,  with  his  right,  a  very  bright  and  glaring  silk  handkerchief, 
with  which  he  whisked  a  speck  or  two  of  dust  from  his  boots,  and  thea 
crumpling  it  in  his  hand,  swaggered  up  the  court. 

It  had  not  escaped  Sam's  attention  that,  when  this  person  dismounted, 


Av 


I 


426  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


a  shabby-looking  man  in  a  brown  great-coat  shorn  of  diners  buttons, 
who  had  been  previously  slinking  about  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
way,  crossed  over,  and  remained  stationary  close  by.  Having  something 
more  than  a  suspicion  of  the  object  of  the  gentleman's  visit,  Sam  pre- 
ceded him  to  the  George  and  Vulture,  and,  turning  sharp  round,  planted 
himself  in  the  centre  of  the  doorway. 

"  Now,  my  fine  fellow,'*  said  the  man  in  the  rough  coat,  in  an  impe- 
rious tone,  attempting,  at  the  same  time,  to  push  his  way  past. 

"Now,  Sir,  wet's  the  matter?'*  replied  Sam,  returning  the  push  with 
compound  interest. 

*'  Come,  none  of  this,  my  man  ;  this  won't  do  with  me,"  said  the  owner 
of  the  rough  coat,  raising  his  voice,  and  turning  very  white^"  Here, 
Smouch !" 

"  Well,  wot's  amiss  here  ?  "  growled  the  man  in  the  brown  coat,  who 
had  been  gradually  sneaking  up  the  court  during  this  short  dialogue. 

*'  Only  some  insolence  of  this  young  man's/'  said  the  principal,  giving 
Sam  another  push. 

"  Come,  none  o'  this  gammon,"  growled  Smouch,  giving  him  another, 
and  a  harder  one. 

This  last  push  had  the  effect  which  it  was  intended  by  the  experienced 
Mr.  Smouch  to  produce,  for  while  Sam,  anxious  to  return  the  compli- 
ment, was  grinding  that  gentleman's  body  against  the  doorpost,  the 
principal  crept  past,  and  made  his  way  to  the  bar,  whither  Sam,  after 
bandying  a  few  epithetical  remarks  with  Mr.  Smouch,  followed  at  once. 

"  Good  morning,  my  dear,"  said  the  principal,  addressing  the  young 
lady  in  the  bar,  with  Botany  Bay  ease,  and  New  South  Wales  gentility  ; 
"which  is  Mr.  Pickwick's  room,  my  dear?" 

"  Show  him  up,"  said  the  bar-maid  to  a  waiter,  without  deigning 
another  look  at  the  exquisite,  in  reply  to  his  inquiry. 

The  waiter  led  the  way  up  stairs  as  he  was  desired,  and  the  man  in 
the  rough  coat  followed,  with  Sam  behind  him,  who,  in  his  progress 
up  the  staircase,  indulged  in  sundry  gestures  indicative  of  supreme 
contempt  and  defiance,  to  the  unspeakable  gratification  of  the  servants 
and  other  lookers  on.  Mr.  Smouch,  who  was  troubled  with  a  hoarse 
cough,  remained  below,  and  expectorated  in  the  passage. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  fast  asleep  in  bed,  when  his  early  visitor,  followed 
by  Sam,  entered  the  room.  The  noise  they  made,  in  so  doing,  awoke 
him. 

"  Shaving  water,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  from  within  the  curtains. 

"  Shave  you  directly,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  the  visitor,  drawing  one  of] 
them  back  from  the  bed's  head.  "  I've  got  an  execution  against  you, 
at  the  suit  of  Bardell. — Here's  the  warrant. — Common  Pleas. — Here's 
my  card.  I  suppose  you'll  come  over  to  my  house."  And  giving 
Mr.  Pickwick  a  friendly  tap  on  the  shoulder,  the  sheriff's  officer — for 
such  he  was — threw  his  card  on  the  counterpane,  and  pulled  a  gold  , 
toothpick  from  his  waistcoat  pocket.  ^     1 

"  Namby's  the  name,"  said  the  sheriff's  deputy,  as  Mr.  Pickwick 
took  his  spectacles  from  under  the  pillow,  and  put  them  on,  to  read  the 
<3ard.     "  Namby,  Bell  Alley,  Coleman  Street." 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  427 

At  this  point,  Sam  Weiler,  who  had  had  his  eyes  fixed  hitherto  on 
Mr.  Namhy's  shining  beaver,  interfered — 

"  Are  you  a  Quaker?"  said  Sam. 

"I'll  let  you  know  who  I  am,  before  I've  done  with  you,"  replied  the 
indig"nant  officer.  "  I'll  teach  you  manners,  my  fine  fellow,  one  of  these 
fine  mornings." 

"  Thankee,"  said  Sam.  "  I'll  do  the  same  for  you.  Take  your  hat 
off."  With  this,  Mr.  Weiler,  in  the  most  dexterous  manner,  knocked 
Mr.  Namby's  hat  to  the  other  side  of  the  room  with  such  violence,  that 
he  had  very  nearly  caused  him  to  swallow  the  gold  toothpick  into  the 
bargain. 

"  Observe  this,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  the  disconcerted  officer,  gasping 
for  breath.  "  I've  been  assaulted  in  the  execution  of  my  dooty  by 
your  servant  in  your  chamber.  I'm  in  bodily  fear.  I  call  you  to 
witness  this." 

"  Don't  witness  nothin'.  Sir,"  interposed  Sam.  "  Shut  your  eyes 
up  tight.  Sir,  I'd  pitch  him  out  o'  winder,  only  he  couldn't  fall  far 
enough,  'cause  o'  the  leads  outside." 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  in  an  angry  voice,  as  his  attendant  made 
various  demonstrations  of  hostilities,  *'  if  you  say  another  word,  or  offer 
the  slightest  interference  with  this  person,  I  discharge  you  that  instant." 

"  But,  Sir  !"  said  Sam. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick;  "  Take  that  hat 
up  again." 

But  this,  Sam  flatly  and  positively  refused  to  do ;  and,  after  he  had  been 
severely  reprimanded  by  his  master,  the  officer,  being  in  a  hurry,  con- 
descended to  pick  it  up  himself,  venting  a  great  variety  of  threats  against 
Sam  meanwhile,  which  that  gentleman  received  with  perfect  composure, 
merely  observing  that  if  Mr.  Namby  would  have  the  goodness  to  put 
his  hat  on  again,  he. would  knock  it  into  the  latter  end  of  next  week. 
Mr.  Namby,  perhaps  thinking  that  such  a  process  might  be  productive  of 
inconvenience  to  himself,  declined  to  offer  the  temptation,  and  soon 
after  called  up  Smouch.  Having  informed  him  that  the  capture  was 
made,  and  that  he  was  to  wait  for  the  prisoner  until  he  should  have 
finished  dressing,  Namby  then  swaggered  out,  and  drove  away.  Smouch 
requesting  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  surly  manner,  "  to  be  as  alive  as  he  could, 
for  it  was  a  busy  time,"  drew  up  a  chair  by  the  door,  and  sat  there  till 
he  had  finished  dressing.  Sara  was  then  dispatched  for  a  hackney 
coach,  and  in  it  the  triumvirate  proceeded  to  Coleman  Street.  It  was 
fortunate  the  distance  was  short,  for  Mr.  Smouch,  besides  possessing 
BO  very  enchanting  conversational  powers,  was  rendered  a  decidedly 
unpleasant  companion  in  a  limited  space,  by  the  physical  weakness  to 
which  we  have  elsewhere  adverted. 

The  coach  having  turned  into  a  very  narrow  and  dark  street,  stopped 
'before  a  house  with  iron  bars  to  all  the  windows ;  the  door-posts  of 
which,  were  graced  by  the  name  and  title  of  "  Namby,  Officer  to  the 
Sheriffs  of  London;"  the  inner  gate  having  been  opened  by  a  gentle- 
man who   might  have  passed  for   a   neglected   twin  brother  of  Mr. 


■ 


428  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Sraouch,   and  who  was  endowed  with  a  larg-e  key  for  the  purpose,  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  shown  into  the  "coffee-room." 

This  coft'ee-room  was  a  front  parlour,  the  principal  features  of  which, 
were  fresh  sand  und  stale  tobacco  smoke.  Mr.  Pickwick  bowed  to  the 
three  persons  who  were  seated  in  it  v/hen  he  entered,  and  havings  dis- 
patched Sam  for  Perker,  withdrew  into  an  obscure  corner,  and  from 
thence  looked  with  some  curiosity  upon  his  new  companions. 

One  of  these  was  a  mere  boy  of  nineteen  or  twenty,  who,  though  it 
was  yet  barely  ten  o'clock,  was  drinking-  g-in  and  water,  and  smoking"  a 
cigar,  amusements  to  which,  judging  from  his  inflamed  countenance, 
he  had  devoted  himself  pretty  constantly  for  the  last  year  or  two  of 
his  life.  Opposite  him,  engaged  in  stirring  the  lire  with  the  toe  of  his 
right  boot,  was  a  coarse,  vulgar  young  man  of  about  thirty,  with  a 
sallow  face  and  harsh  voice ;  evidently  possessed  of  that  knowledge  of 
the  world,  and  captivating  freedom  of  manner,  which  is  to  be  acquired, 
in  public-house  parlours,  and  at  low  billiard  tables.  The  third  tenant 
of  the  apartment  was  a  middle  aged  man  in  a  very  old  suit  of  black, 
who  looked  pale  and  haggard,  and  paced  up  and  down  the  room  inces- 
santly :  stopping  now  and  then  to  look  with  great  anxiety  out  of  the 
window  as  if  he  expected  somebody,  and  then  resuming  his  walk. 

"  You'd  better  have  the  loan  of  my  razor  this  morning,  Mr.  Ayres- 
leigh,"  said  the  man  who  was  stirring  the  fire,  tipping  the  wink  to  his 
friend  the  boy. 

"  Thank  you,  no,  I  shan't  want  it ;  I  expect  I  shall  be  out,  in  the 
course  of  an  hour  or  so,"  replied  the  other  in  a  hurried  manner.  Then 
walking  again  up  to  the  window,  and  once  more  returning  disappointed, 
he  sighed  deeply,  and  left  the  room ;  upon  which  the  other  two  burst 
out  into  a  loud  laugh. 

*'  Well,  I  never  saw  such  a  game  as  that,"  said  the  gentleman  who 
had  offered  the  razor,  whose  name  appeared  to  be  Price.  "  Never  I" 
Mr.  Price  confirmed  the  assertion  with  an  oath,  and  then  laughed 
again,  when  of  course  the  boy  (who  thought  his  companion  one  of 
the  most  dashing  fellows  alive),  laughed  also. 

"  You'd  hardly  think,  would  you  now,"  said  Price,  turning  towards 
Mr.  Pickwick,  "that  that  chap's  been  here  a  week  yesterday,  and 
never  once  shaved  himself  yet,  because  he  feels  so  certain  he's  going  out 
in  half  an  hour's  time,  that  he  thinks  he  may  as  well  put  it  off  till  he 
gets  home  ?  " 

"  Poor  man  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Are  his  chances  of  getting  out 
of  his  difficulties  really  so  great  ?" 

"  Chances  be  d— d,"  replied  Price ;  '*  he  hasn't  half  the  ghost  of 
one.  I  wouldn't  give  thai  for  his  chance  of  walking  about  the  streets 
this  time  ten  years."  With  this,  Mr.  Price  snapped  his  fingers  con- 
temptuously, and  rang  the  bell. 

"  Give  me  a  sheet  of  paper,  Crookey,"  said  Mr.  Price  to  the  atten- 
dant, who  in  dress  and  general  appearance  looked  something  between 
a  bankrupt  grazier,  and  a  drover  in  a  state  of  insolvency;  "and  a 
.glass  of  brandy  and  water^  Crookey,  d'ye  hear  ?     I'm  going  to  write 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  429 


jH'to  my  father,  and  I  must  have  a  stimulant,  or  I  shan't  be  able  to  pitch 
^  it  strong  enough  into  the  old  boy."  At  this  facetious  speech,  the 
younp:  boy,  it  is  almost  needless  to  say,  was  fairly  convulsed. 

"  That's  right,"  said  Mr.  Price.     "  Never  say  die.  All  fun,  ain't  it  ?" 

"  Prime  I  "   said  the  young  gentleman. 

"  You've  some  spirit  about  you,  you  have,"  said  Price,  "  You've 
seen  something  of  life." 

"  I  rather  think  I  have  !"  replied  the  boy.  He  had  looked  at  it 
through  the  dirty  panes  of  glass  in  a  bar  door. 

Mr.  Pickwick  feeling  not  a  little  disgusted  with  this  dialogue,  as 
well  as  with  the  air  and  manner  of  the  two  beings  by  whom  it  had  been 
carried  on,  was  about  to  inquire  whether  he  could  not  be  accommodated 
with  a  private  sitting  room,  when  two  or  three  strangers  of  genteel 
appearance  entered,  at  sight  of  whom  the  boy  threw  his  cigar  into  the 
fire,  and  whispering  to  Mr.  Price,  that  they  had  come  to  "  make  it  all 
right"  for  him,  joined  them  at  a  table  in  the  further  end  of  the  room. 

It  would  appear,  however,  that  matters  were  not  going  to  be  made 
all  right  quite  so  speedily  as  the  young  gentleman  anticipated,  for  a  very 
long  conversation  ensued,  of  which  Mr.  Pickwick  could  not  avoid  hear- 
ing certain  angry  fragments  regarding  dissolute  conduct,  and  repeated 
forgiveness.  At  last  there  were  very  distinct  allusions  made  by  the 
•oldest  gentleman  of  the  party  to  one  Whitecross-street,  at  which  the 
young  gentleman,  notwithstanding  his  primeness  and  his  spirit,  and  his 
knowledge  of  life  into  the  bargain,  reclined  his  head  upon  the  table  and 
howled  dismally. 

Very  much  satisfied  with  this  sudden  bringing  down  of  the  youth's 
valour,  and  effectual  lowering  of  his  tone,  Mr.  Pickwick  rang  the  bell, 
and  was  shown  at  his  own  request  into  a  private  room  furnished  with  a 
carpet,  table,  chairs,  sideboard  and  sofa,  and  ornamented  with  a  looking 
glass,  and  various  old  prints.  Here  he  had  the  advantage  of  hearing 
Mrs.  Namby's  performance  on  a  square  piano  over  head,  while  the  break- 
fast was  getting  ready ;  and  when  it  came,  Mr.  Perker  arrived  also. 

"  Aha,  my  dear  Sir,"  said  the  little  man,  "  nailed  at  last,  eh  ?  Come, 
come,  I'm  not  sorry  for  it  either,  because  now  you'll  see  the  absurdity 
of  this  conduct.  I've  noted  down  the  amount  of  the  taxed  costs  and 
damages  for  which  the  casa  was  issued,  and  we  had  better  settle  at  once 
and  lose  no  time.  Namby  is  come  home  by  this  time,  I  dare  say. 
What  say  you,  my  dear  Sir,  shall  I  draw  a  cheque,  or  will  you  ?"  The 
little  man  rubbed  his  hands  with  affected  cheerfulness  as  he  said  this,  but 
glancing  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance,  could  not  forbear  at  the  same 
time  casting  a  desponding  look  towards  Sam  Weller. 

"  Perker,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  let  me  hear  no  more  of  this,  I  beg. 
I  see  no  advantage  in  staying  here,  so  I  shall  go  to  prison  to- 
night." •: 

"  You  can't  go  to  Whitecross  street,  my  dear  Sir,"  said  Perker. 
"  Impossible  !  There  are  sixty  beds  in  a  ward,  and  the  bolt's  on,  sixteen 
hours  out  of  the  four-and-twenty." 

"  I  should  rather  go  to  some  other  place  of  confinement  if  I  can," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick.    "  If  not  I  must  make  the  best  I  can  of  that." 


430  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  You  can  go  to  the  Fleet,  my  dear  Sir,  if  you're  determined  to  go 
somewhere/'  said  Perker. 

"That'll  do,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "I'll  go  there  directly  I've 
finished  my  breakfast." 

^  "  Stop,  stop,  my  dear  Sir ;  not  the  least  occasion  for  being  in  such  a 
violent  hurry  to  get  into  a  place  that  most  other  men  are  as  eager  to 
get  out  of,"  said  the  good-natured  little  attorney.  "  We  must  have 
a  habeas  corpus.  There'll  be  no  judge  at  chambers  till  four  o'clock 
this  afternoon.     You  must  wait  till  then.". 

"  Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  unmoved  patience.  "  Then 
we  will  have  a  chop  here,  at  two.  See  about  it  Sam,  and  tell  them  to 
be  punctual." 

Mr.  Pickwick  remaining  firm,  despite  all  the  remonstrances  and 
arguments  of  Perker,  the  chops  appeared  and  disappeared  in  dujS 
course ;  he  was  then  put  into  another  hackney  coach,  and  carried  off 
to  Chancery  Lane ;  after  waiting  half  an  hour  or  so  for  Mr.  Namby, 
who  had  a  select  dinner  party,  and  could  on  no  account  be  disturbed 
before. 

There  were  two  judges  in  attendance  at  Sergeant's  Inn— one  King's 
Bench,  and  one  Common  Pleas,  and  a  great  deal  of  business  appeared 
to  be  transacting  before  them,  if  the  number  of  lawyer's  clerks  who 
were  hurrying  in  and  out  with  bundles  of  papers,  afforded  any  test. 
When  they  reached  the  low  archway  which  forms  the  entrance  to  the 
Inn,  Perker  was  detained  a  few  moments  parleying  with  the  coachman 
about  the  fare  and  the  change ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick,  stepping  to  one 
side  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the  stream  of  people  that  were  pouring  in 
and  out,  looked  about  him  with  some  curiosity. 

The  people  that  attracted  his  attention  most,  were  three  or  four 
men  of  shabby-genteel  appearance,  who  touched  their  hats  to  many  of 
the  attorneys  who  passed,  and  seemed  to  have  some  business  there, 
the  nature  of  which  Mr.  Pickwick  could  not  divine.  They  were  curious 
looking  fellows.  One  was  a  slim  and  rather  lame  man  in  rusty  black, 
and  a  white  neckerchief;  another  was  a  stout,  burly  person,  dressed  in 
the  same  apparel,  with  a  great  reddish-black  cloth  round  his  neck ;  a 
third  was  a  little  weazen  drunken-looking  body  with  a  pimply  face. 
They  were  loitering  about,  with  their  hands  behind  them,  and  now  and 
then,  with  an  anxious  countenance,  whispered  something  in  the  ear  of 
some  of  the  gentlemen  with  papers  as  they  hurried  by.  Mr.  Pickwick 
remembered  to  have  very  often  observed  them  lounging  under  the 
archway  when  he  had  been  walking  past,  and  his  curiosity  was  quite 
excited  to  know  to  what  branch  of  the  profession  these  dingy -looking 
loungers  could  possibly  belong. 

He  was  just  about  to  propound  the  question  to  Namby,  who  kept 
close  beside  him  sucking  a  large  gold  ring  on  his  little  finger,  when 
Perker  bustled  up,  and  observing  that  there  was  no  time  to  lose,  led 
the  way  into  the  Inn.  As  Mr.  Pickwick  followed,  the  lame  man 
stepped  up  to  him,  and  civilly  touching  his  hat,  held  out  a  written 
card,  which  Mr.  Pickwick  not  wishing  to  hurt  the  man's  feelings  br 
refusing,  courteously  accepted  and  deposited  in  his  waistcoat  pocket. 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  481 

"Now,"  said  Perker,  turnings  round  before  he  entered  one  of  the 
offices,  to  see  that  his  companions  were  close  behind  him.  "  In  here, 
my  dear  Sir.     Hallo,  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

This  last  question  was  addressed  to  the  lame  man,  who  unobserved 
by  Mr.  Pickwick,  made  one  of  the  party.  In  reply  to  it,  the  lame  man 
touched  his  hat  again  with  all  imaginable  politeness,  and  motioned  to- 
wards Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Perker  with  a  smile.  "We  don't  want  you,  my  dear 
friend,  we  don't  want  you." 

"  1  beg-  your  pardon.  Sir,"  said  the  lame  man.  "  The  gentleman 
took  my  card.  I  hope  you  will  employ  me.  Sir.  The  gentleman 
nodded  to  me.  I'll  be  judged  by  the  gentleman  himself.  You  nodded 
to  me.  Sir?" 

"  Pooh,  pooh,  nonsense.  You  didn't  nod  to  any  body,  Pickwick  ? 
A  mistake,  a  mistake,"  said  Perker. 

"  The  gentleman  handed  me  his  card,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  pro- 
ducing it  from  his  waistcoat  pocket.  "  I  accepted  it  as  the  gentleman 
seemed  to  wish  it — in  fact  I  had  some  curiosity  to  look  at  it  when  I 
should  be  at  leisure.     I " 

The  little  attorney  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  returning  the  card 
to  the  lame  man,  informing  him  it  was  all  a  mistake,  whispered 
to  Mr.  Pickwick  as  the  man  turned  away  in  dudgeon,  that  he  was 
only  a  bail. 

"  A  what !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  A  bail,"  replied  Perker. 

"  A  bail !  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Sir,  half  a  dozen  of  'em  here.  Bail  you  to  any 
amount,  and  only  charge  half-a-crown.  Curious  trade  isn't  it  ? "  said 
Perker,  regaling  himself  with  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

"  What !  am  I  to  understand  that  these  men  earn  a  livelihood  by 
waiting  about  here,  to  perjure  themselves  before  the  judges  of  the  land, 
at  the  rate  of  half-a-crown  a  crime !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  quite 
aghast  at  the  disclosure. 

"  Why,  I  don't  exactly  know  about  the  perjury,  my  dear  Sir,"  replied 
the  little  gentleman.  "  Harsh  word,  my  dear  Sir,  very  harsh  word 
indeed.  It's  a  legal  fiction,  my  dear  Sir,  nothing  more."  Saying 
which,  the  attorney  shrugged  his  shoulders,  smiled,  took  a  second 
pinch  of  snuif,  and  led  the  way  into  the  office  of  the  judge's  clerk. 

This  was  a  room  of  specially  dirty  appearance,  with  a  very  low 
ceiling  and  old  panneled  walls;  and  so  badly  lighted,  that  although  it 
was  broad  day  outside,  great  tallow  candles  were  burning  on  the  desks. 
At  one  end,  was  a  door  leading  to  the  judge's  private  apartment,  round 
which  were  congregated  a  crowd  of  attorneys  and  managing  clerks,  who 
were  called  in,  in  the  order  in  which  their  respective  appointments 
stood  upon  the  file.  Every  time  this  door  was  opened  to  let  a  party 
out,  the  next  party  made  a  violent  rush  to  get  in  ;  and  as  in  addition  to 
the  numerous  dialogues  which  passed  between  the  gentlemen  who  were 
waiting  to  see  the  judge,  a  variety  of  rather  personal  squabbles  ensued 


432  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    01 

between  the  greater  part  of  those  who  had  seen  him,  there  was  as 
much  noise  as  could  well  be  raised  in  an  apartment  of  such  confined 
dimensions. 

Nor  were  the  conversations  of  these  gentlemen  the  only  sounds  that 
broke  upon  the  ear.  Standing  on  a  box  behind  a  wooden  bar  at  another 
end  of  the  room  was  a  clerk  in  spectacles,  who  was  "  taking  the  affida- 
vits," large  batches  of  which  were  from  time  to  time  carried  into  the 
private  room  by  another  clerk  for  the  judge's  signature.  There  were 
a  large  number  of  attorneys'  clerks  to  be  sworn,  and  it  being  a  moral 
impossibility  to  swear  them  all  at  once,  the  struggles  of  these  gentle- 
men to  reach  the  clerk  in  spectacles,  were  like  those  of  a  crowd  to  get 
in  at  the  pit  door  of  a  theatre  when  His  Most  Gracious  Majesty 
honours  it  with  his  presence.  Another  functionary,  from  time  to 
time  exercised  his  lungs  in  calling  over  the  names  of  those  who  had 
been  sworn,  for  the  purpose  of  restoring  to  them  their  affidavits  after 
they  had  been  signed  by  the  judge,  which  gave  rise  to  a  few  more 
scuffles ;  and  all  these  things  going  on  at  the  same  time,  occasioned  as 
much  bustle  as  the  most  active  and  excitable  person  could  desire  to 
behold.  There  were  yet  another  class  of  persons — those  who  were 
waiting  to  attend  summonses  their  employers  had  taken  out,  which 
it  was  optional  to  the  attorney  on  the  opposite  side  to  attend  or  not, 
and  whose  business  it  was  from  time  to  time  to  cry  out  the  opposite 
attorney's  name,  to  make  certain  that  he  was  not  in  attendance  without 
their  knowledge. 

For  example.  Leaning  against  the  wall,  close  beside  the  seat  Mr. 
Pickwick  had  taken,  was  an  office  lad  of  fourteen,  with  a  tenor  voice, 
and  near  him  a  common-law  clerk  with  a  bass  one. 

A  clerk  hurried  in  with  a  bundle  of  papers,  and  stared  about  him. 

"  Sniggle  and  Blink,"  cried  the  tenor. 

"  Porkin  and  Snob,"  growled  the  bass. 

*'  Stumpy  and  Deacon,"  said  the  new  comer. 

Nobody  answered  ;  and  the  next  man  who  came  in,  was  hailed  by  the 
whole  three,  and  he  in  his  turn  shouted  for  another  firm,  and  then 
somebody  else  roared  in  a  loud  voice  for  another,  and  so  forth. 

All  this  time,  the  man  in  the  spectacles  was  hard  at  work  swearing 
the  clerks ;  the  oath  being  invariably  administered  without  any  effort  at 
punctuation,  and  usually  in  the  following  terms: — 

**  Take  the  book  in  your  right  hand  this  is  your  name  and  hand- 
writing you  swear  that  the  contents  of  this  your  affidavit  are  true  so 
help  you  God  a  shilling  you  must  get  change  I  haven't  got  it." 

"  Well,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  « I  suppose  they  are  getting  the 
habeas  corpus  ready.'' 

*'  Yes,"  said  Sam  "  and  I  vish  they'd  bring  out  the  have-his-carcase. 
It's  wery  unpleasant  keepin'  us  vaitin'  here.  I'd  ha'  got  half  a  dozen 
have-his-carcases  ready,  pack'd  up  and  all,  by  this  time." 

What  sort  of  cumbrous  and  unmanageable  machine,  Sam  Weller 
imagined  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus  to  be  does  not  appear,  for  Perker  at 
that  moment  walked  up,  and  took  Mr.  Pickwick  away. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  433 

The  usual  forms  havings  been  g-one  through,  the  body'of  Samuel  Pick- 
wick was  soon  afterwards  confided  to  the  custody  of  the  tipstaff,  to  he 
by  him  taken  to  the  Warden  of  the  Fleet  Prison,  and  there  detained 
until  the  amount  of  the  damages  and  costs  in  the  action  of  Bardell 
against  Pickwick  was  fully  paid  and  satisfied. 

"  And  that,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  laughing,  "will  be  a  very  long  time. 
Sam,  call  another  hackney  coach.     Perker,  my  dear  friend,  good  bye." 

"  I  shall  go  with  you,  and  see  you  safe  there,"  said  Perker. 

<*  Indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  would  rather  go  without  any 
other  attendant  than  Sam-  As  soon  as  I  get  settled,  I  will  write  and 
let  you  know,  and  I  shall  expect  you  immediately.  Until  then,  good 
bye." 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  said  this,  he  got  into  the  coach  which  had  by  this 
time  arrived,  followed  by  the  tipstaff.  Sam  having  stationed  himself 
on  the  box,  it  rolled  away. 

"  A  most  extraordinary  man  that,"  said  Perker,  as  be  stopped  to  pull 
on  his  gloves. 

"  What  a  bankrupt  he'd  make.  Sir,"  observed  Mr.  Lowten,  who  was 
standing  near.  "  How  he  would  bother  the  commissioners  !  He'd  set 
'em  at  defiance  if  they  talked  of  committing  him.  Sir." 

The  attorney  did  not  appear  very  much  delighted  with  his  clerk's  pro- 
fessional estimate  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  character,  for  he  walked  away  without 
deigning  any  reply. 

The  hackney  coach  jolted  along  Fleet  Street,  as  hackney  coaches 
usually  do.  The  horses  "went  better,"  the  driver  said,  when  they  had 
got  anything  before  them,  (they  must  have  gone  at  a  most  extraordinary 
pace  when  there  was  nothing,)  and  so  the  vehicle  kept  behind  a  cart ; 
when  the  cart  stopped,  it  stopped,  and  when  the  cart  went  on  again,  it 
did  the  same.  Mr.  Pickwick  sat  opposite  the  tipstaff,  and  the  tipstaff 
sat  with  his  hat  between  his  knees,  whistling  a  tune,  and  looking  out  of 
the  coach-window. 

Time  performs  wonders,  and,  by  the  powerful  old  gentleman's  aid, 
even  a  hackney  coach  gets  over  half  a  mile  of  ground.  They  stopped 
at  length,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  alighted  at  the  gate  of  the  Fleet. 

The  tipstaff,  just  looking  over  his  shoulder  to  see  that  his  charge  was 
following  close  at  his  heels,  preceded  Mr.  Pickwick  into  the  prison ; 
turning  to  the  left,  after  they  had  entered,  they  passed  through  an  open 
door  into  a  lobby,  from  which  a  heavy  gate  opposite  to  that  by  which 
they  had  entered,  and  which  was  guarded  by  a  stout  turnkey  with  the 
key  in  his  hand,  led  at  once  into  the  interior  of  the  prison. 

Here  they  stopped,  while  the  tipstaff  dehvered  his  papers  ;  and  here 
Mr.  Pickwick  was  apprised  that  he  would  remain  until  he  had  under- 
gone the  ceremony,  known  to  the  initiated,  as  "  sitting  for  your  portrait." 

"Sitting  for  my  portrait!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Having  your  likeness  taken.  Sir,"  replied  the  stout  turnkey. 

"  We're  capital  hands  at  likenesses  here.  Take  'em  in  no  time,  and 
always  exact.    Walk  in,  Sir,  and  make  yourself  at  liome." 

Mr.  Pickwick  complied  with  the  invitation,  and  sat  himself  down, 


434  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

when  Mr.  Weller,  who  stationed  himself  at  the  back  of  the  chair,  whis- 
pered that  the  sitting  was  merely  another  term  for  undergoing-  an 
inspection  by  the  different  turnkeys,  in  order  that  they  might  know 
prisoners  from  visitors. 

*'  Well,   Sam,     said  Mr.  Pickwick,   "  then  I  wish  the  artists  would 
come.     This  is  rather  a  public  place." 

"  They  vont  be  long,  Sir_,  1  des-say,"  replied  Sam.     "  There's  a 
Dutch  clock,  Sir." 

"  So  I  see,"  observed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  And  a  bird-cage.  Sir,"  said  Sam.     *'  Veels  vithin  veels,  a  prison  in 
a  prison.    Ain't  it,  Sir." 

As  Mr.  Weller  made  this  philosophical  remark,  Mr.  Pickwick  was 
aware  that  his  sitting  had  commenced.  The  stout  turnkey  having  been 
relieved  from  the  lock,  sat  down,  and  looked  at  him  carelessly  from 
time  to  time,  while  a  long  thin  man  who  had  relieved  him  thrust  his 
hands  beneath  his  coat  tails,  and  planting  himself  opposite,  took  a  good 
long  view  of  him.  A  third  rather  surly-looking  gentleman,  who  had 
apparently  been  disturbed  at  his  tea,  for  he  was  disposing  of  the  last 
remnant  of  a  crust  and  butter  when  he  came  in,  stationed  himself  close 
to  Mr.  Pickwick;  and,  resting  his  hands  on  his  hips,  inspected  him 
narrowly,  while  two  others  mixed  with  the  group,  and  studied  his 
features  with  most  intent  and  thoughtful  faces.  Mr.  Pickwick  winced 
a  good  deal  under  the  operation,  and  appeared  to  sit  very  uneasily  in 
his  chair :  but  he  made  no  remark  to  anybody  while  it  was  being  per- 
formed— not  even  to  Sam,  who  reclined  upon  the  back  of  the  chair, 
reflecting,  partly  on  the  situation  of  his  master,  and  partly  on  the 
great  satisfaction  it  would  have  afforded  him  to  make  a  fierce  assault 
upon  all  the  turnkeys  there  assembled,  one  after  the  other,  if  it  were 
lawful  and  peaceable  so  to  do. 

At  length  the  likeness  was  completed,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  was  informed, 
that  he  might  now  proceed  into  the  prison. 

"  Where  am  I  to  sleep  to-night  ?"  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Why  I  don't  rightly  know  about  to-night,"  replied  the  stout  turn- 
key. "  You'll  be  chummed  on  somebody  to-morrow,  and  then  you'll 
be  all  snug  and  comfortable.  The  first  night's  generally  rather  unsettled, 
but  you'll  be  set  all  squares  to-morrow." 

After  some  discussion,  it  was  discovered  that  one  of  the  turnkeys 
had  a  bed  to  let,  which  Mr.  Pickwick  could  have  for  that  night,  and 
he  gladly  agreed  to  hire  it. 

"  If  you'll  come  with  me,  I'll  show  it  you,  at  once,"  said  the  man. 
*^  It  ain't  a  large  'un ;  but  it's  an  out  and  outer  to  sleep  in.  This  way, 
Sir." 

They  passed  through  the  inner  gate,  and  descended  a  short  flight  of 
steps.  The  key  was  turned  after  them,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  found  him- 
self, for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  within  the  walls  of  a  Debtor's  Prison. 


! 


i 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB.  435 


CHAPTER  XL. 

WHAT  BEFEL  MR.  PICKWICK  WHEN  HE  GOT  INTO  THE  FLEET;    WHAT 
DEBTORS  HE  SAW  THERE;    AND  HOW  HE  PASSED  THE  NIGHT. 

Mr.  Tom  Roker,  the  gentleman  who  had  accompanied  Mr.  Pickwick 
into  the  prison/turned  sharp  round  to  the  right  when  he  got  to  the 
bottom  of  the  little  flight  of  steps,  and  led  the  way  through  an  iron 
gate  which  stood  open,  and  up  another  short  flight  of  steps,  into  a  long 
narrow  gallery,  dirty  and  low,  paved  with  stone,  and  very  dimly  lighted 
by  a  window  at  each  remote  end. 

*'  This,"  said  the  gentleman,  thrusting  his  hands  into  his  pockets, 
and  looking  carelessly  over  his  shoulder  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  This  here 
is  the  hall  flight." 

"  Oh,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  down  a  dark  and  filthy  stair- 
case, which  appeared  to  lead  to  a  range  of  damp  and  gloomy  stone  vaults 
beneath  the  ground,  "  and  those,  I  suppose,  are  the  little  cellars  where 
the  prisoners  keep  their  small  quantities  of  coals.  Ah  !  unpleasant 
places  to  have  to  go  down  to ;  but  very  convenient,  I  dare  say." 

*'  Yes,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  was  convenient,"  replied  the  gen- 
tleman, ''  seeing  that  a  few  people  live  there  pretty  snug.  That's  the 
Fair,  that  is." 

"  My  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  you  don't  really  mean  to  say  that 
human  beings  live  down  in  those  wretched  dungeons?" 

"  Don't  I?"  replied  Mr.  Roker,  with  indignant  astonishment;  "why 
shouldn't  I  ?  " 

"  Live  ! — live  down  there  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Live  down  there!  yes,  and  die  down  there,  too,  wery  often!" 
replied  Mr.  Roker  ;  "  and  what  of  that  ?  Who's  got  to  say  anything 
agin  it  ?  Live  down  there  ! — yes,  and  a  wery  good  place  it  is  to  live 
in,  ain't  it?" 

As  Roker  turned  somewhat  fiercely  upon  Mr.  Pickwick  in  saying 
this,  and  moreover  muttered,  in  an  excited  fashion,  certain  unpleasant 
invocations  concerning  his  own  eyes,  limbs,  and  circulating  fluids,  the 
latter  gentleman  deemed  it  advisable  to  pursue  the  discourse  no  further. 
Mr.  Roker  then  proceeded  to  mount  another  staircase,  as  dirty  as  that 
which  led  to  the  place  which  had  just  been  the  subject  of  discussion,  in 
which  ascent  he  was  closely  followed  by  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam. 

"  There,"  said  Mr.  Roker,  pausing  for  breath  when  they  reached 
another  gallery  of  the  same  dimensions  as  the  one  below,  "  this  is  the 
coff"ee-room  flight :  the  one  above  's  the  third,  and  the  one  above  that 's 
the  top ;  and  the  room  where  you're  a  going  to  sleep  to-night  is  the 
warden's  room,  and  it's  this  way — come  on."     Having  said  all  this  in  a 

I  I 


436  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

breath,  Mr.  Roker  mounted  another  flight  of  stairs,  with  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  Sam  Weller  following-  at  his  heels. 

These  staircases  received  light  from  sundry  windows  placed  at  some 
little  distance  above  the  floor,  and  looking  into  a  gravelled  area  hounded 
hy  a  high  brick  wall,  with  iron  chevaux-de-frise  at  the  top.  This 
area,  it  appeared  from  Mr.  Roker's  statement,  was  the  racket-ground  ; 
and  it  further  appeared,  on  the  testimony  of  the  same  gentleman,  that 
there  was  a  smaller  area  in  that  portion  of  the  prison  which  was  nearest 
Farringdon-street,  denominated  and  called  "  the  Painted  Ground,"  from 
the  fact  of  its  walls  having  once  displayed  the  semblances  of  various 
men-of-war  in  full  sail,  and  other  artistical  effects,  achieved  in  bygone 
times  by  some  imprisoned  draughtsman  in  his  leisure  hours. 

Having  communicated  this  piece  of  information,  apparently  more  for 
the  purpose  of  discharging  his  bosom  of  an  important  fact,  than  with 
any  specific  view  of  enlightening  Mr.  Pickwick,  the  guide,  having  at 
length  reached  another  gallery,  led  the  way  into  a  small  passage 
at  the  extreme  end ;  opened  a  door,  and  disclosed  an  apartment 
of  an  appearance  by  no  means  inviting,  containing  eight  or  nine  iron 
bedsteads. 

*'  There,"  said  Mr.  Roker,  holding  the  door  open,  and  looking  tri- 
umphantly round  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  There  's  a  room  !  " 

Mr.  Pickwick's  face,  however,  betokened  such  a  very  trifling  portion 
of  satisfaction  at  the  appearance  of  his  lodging,  that  Mr.  Roker  looked 
for  a  reciprocity  of  feeling  into  the  countenance  of  Samuel  Weller,  who, 
until  now,  had  observed  a  dignified  silence. 

'^  There's  a  room,  young  man,"  observed  Mr.  Roker. 

*'  I  see  it,"  replied  Sam,  with  a  placid  nod  of  the  head. 

"  You  wouldn't  think  to  find  such  a  room  as  this,  in  the  Farringdon 
Hotel,  would  you?"  said  Mr.  Roker,  with  a  complacent  smile. 

To  this  Mr.  Weller  replied  with  an  easy  and  unstudied  closing  of  one 
eye ;  which  might  be  considered  to  mean,  either  that  he  would  have 
thought  it,  or  that  he  would  not  have  thought  it,  or  that  he  had  never 
thought  anything  at  all  about  it,  just  as  the  observer's  imagination 
suggested.  Having-  executed  this  feat,  and  re-opened  his  eye, 
Mr.  Weller  proceeded  to  inquire  which  was  the  individual  bedstead  that 
Mr.  Roker  had  so  flatteringly  described  as  an  out-and-outer  to  sleep  in. 

"  That's  it,"  replied  Mr.  Roker,  pointing  to  a  very  rusty  one  in  a 
corner.  "  It  would  make  any  one  go  to  sleep,  that  bedstead  would, 
whether  they  wanted  to  or  not." 

"  I  should  think,"  said  Sam,  eyeing  the  piece  of  furniture  in  question 
with  a  look  of  excessive  disgust,  "  I  should  think  poppies  was  nothin 
to  it."  I 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Roker. 

"  And  I  s'pose,"  said  Sam,  with  a  sidelong  glance  at  his  master,  as  if 
to  see  whether  there  were  any  symptoms  of  his  determination  being 
shaken  by  what  passed,  "  I  s'pose  the  other  genTmen  as  sleeps  here, 
are  genTmen." 

"  Nothing  but  it,"  said  Mr.  Roker.  "  One  of  'em  takes  his  twelve 
pints  of  ale  a-day,  and  never  leaves  off  smoking,  even  at  his  meals." 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  437 

**  He  must  be  a  first-rater,"  said  Sam. 

"A,  1,"  replied  Mr.  Roker. 

Nothing  daunted,  even  by  this  intelligence,  Mr.  Pickwick  smilingly- 
announced  his  determination  to  test  the  powers  of  the  narcotic  bedstead 
for  that  night ;  and  Mr.  Roker,  after  informing  him  that  he  could 
retire  to  rest  at  whatever  hour  he  thought  proper  without  any  further 
notice  or  formality,  walked  off,  leaving  him  standing  with  Sam  in  the 
gallery. 

It  was  getting  dark ;  that  is  to  say,  a  few  gas  jets  were  kindled 
in  this  place,  which  was  never  light,  by  way  of  compliment  to  the 
evening,  which  had  set  in  outside.  As  it  was  rather  warm,  some  of  the 
tenants  of  the  numerous  little  rooms  which  opened  into  the  gallery  on 
either  hand,  had  set  their  doors  ajar.  Mr.  Pickwick  peeped  into  them 
as  he  passed  along,  with  great  curiosity  and  interest.  Here,  four  or  five 
great  hulking  fellows,  just  visible  through  a  cloud  of  tobacco-smoke, 
were  engaged  in  noisy  and  riotous  conversation  over  half-emptied  pots  of 
beer,  or  playing  at  all-fours  with  a  very  greasy  pack  of  cards.  In  the 
adjoining  room,  some  solitary  tenant  might  be  seen,  poring,  by  the  light 
of  a  feeble  tallow  candle,  over  a  bundle  of  soiled  and  tattered  papers, 
yellow  with  dust  and  dropping  to  pieces  from  age,  writing,  for  the 
hundredth  time,  some  lengthened  statement  of  his  grievances,  for  the 
perusal  of  some  great  man  whose  eyes  it  would  never  reach,  or  whose 
heart  it  would  never  touch.  In  a  third,  a  man,  with  his  wife  and  a 
whole  crowd  of  children,  might  be  seen  making  up  a  scanty  bed  on  the 
ground,  or  upon  a  few  chairs,  for  the  younger  ones  to  pass  the  night  in. 
And  in  a  fourth,  and  a  fifth,  and  a  sixth,  and  a  seventh,  the  noise,  and 
the  beer,  and  the  tobacco-smoke,  and  the  cards,  all  came  over  again  in 
greater  force  than  before. 

In  the  galleries  themselves,  and  more  especially  on  the  staircases, 
there  lingered  a  great  number  of  people,  who  came  th^re,  some  because 
their  rooms  were  empty  and  lonesome ;  others  because  their  rooms  were 
full  and  hot ;  and  the  greater  part  because  they  were  restless  and 
uucomfortable,  and  not  possessed  of  the  secret  of  exactly  knowing  what 
to  do  with  themselves.  There  were  many  classes  of  people  here,  from 
the  labouring  man  in  his  fustian  jacket,  to  the  broken  down  spendthrift 
in  his  shawl  dressing-gown,  most  appropriately  out  at  elbows ;  but  there 
was  the  same  air  about  them  all — a  kind  of  listless,  jail-bird,  careless 
swagger;  a  vagabondish  who's-afraid  sort  of  bearing,  which  is  wholly  in- 
describable in  words  ;  but  which  any  man  can  understand  in  one  moment 
if  he  wishes,  by  just  setting  foot  in  the  nearest  debtors'  prison,  and  look- 
ing at  the  very  first  group  of  people  he  sees  there,  with  the  same  interest 
as  Mr.  Pickwick  did. 

"  It  strikes  me,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  leaning  over  the  iron-rail 
at  the  stair-head,  "  It  strikes  me,  Sam,  that  imprisonment  for  debt  is 
scarcely  any  punishment  at  all." 

"  Think  not.  Sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"  You  see  how  these  fellows  drink,  and  smoke,  and  roar,"  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick.     "  It's  quite  impossible  that  they  can  mind  it  much." 
I  ,       "Ah,  that's  just  the  wery  thing,   Sir,"  rejoined  Sam,  ^Hhey  Aon't 

I 


438  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OP 

mind  it;  it's  a  reg'lar  holiday  to  tbem — all  porter  and  skettles.  It's  the 
t'other  vuns  as  gets  done  over  vith  this  sort  o'  thing- :  them  down- 
hearted fellers  as  can't  svig-  avay  at  the  beer,  mor  play  skettles  neither ; 
them  as  vould  pay  if  they  could,  and  gets  low  by  being  boxed  up.  I'll 
tell  you  wot  it  is.  Sir ;  them  as  is  always  a  idlin'  in  public  houses  it 
don't  damage  at  all,  and  them  as  is  alvays  a  vorkin'  ven  they  can,  it 
damages  too  much.  *  It's  unekal,'  as  my  father  used  to  say  ven  his  grog 
worn't  made  half-and-half — '  It's  unekal,  and  that's  the  fault  on  it.' " 

"  I  think  you're  right,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  a  few  moments' 
reflection,  "quite  right." 

"  P'raps,  now  and  then,  there's  some  honest  people  as  likes  it," 
observed  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  ruminative  tone,  "  but  I  never  heerd  o'  one 
as  I  can  call  to  mind,  'cept  the  little  dirty-faced  man  in  the  brown  coat, 
and  that  was  force  of  habit." 

"  And  who  was  he  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'*  Vy,  that's  just  the  wery  point  as  nobody  never  know'd,"  replied 
Sam. 

"But  what  did  he  do?" 

"  Vy  he  did  wot  many  men  as  has  been  much  better  know'd  has  done 
iii  t^  eir  time,  Sir,"  replied  Sam,  "he  run  a  match  agin  the  constable, 
and  van  it." 

"In  other  words,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "he  got  into 
debt  ?  " 

"  Just  that.  Sir,"  replied  Sam,  "  and  in  course  o'  time  he  come  here 
in  consekens.  It  warn't  much — execution  for  nine  pound  nothin',  mul- 
tiplied by  five  for  costs  ;  but  hows'ever  here  he  stopped  for  seventeen 
year.  If  he  got  any  wrinkles  in  his  face,  they  was  stopped  up  vith  the 
dirt,  for  both  the  dirty  face  and  the  brown  coat  wos  just  the  same  at  the 
end  o'  that  time  as  they  wos  at  the  beginnin*.  He  wos  a  wery  peaceful 
inoffendin'  little  creetur,  and  wos  alvays  a  bustlin'  about  for  somebody, 
or  playin'  rackets  and  never  vinnin' ;  till  at  last  the  turnkeys  they  got 
quite  fond  on  him,  and  he  wos  in  the  lodge  ev'ry  night,  a  chattering  vith 
'em,  and  tellin'  stories,  and  all  that  'ere.  Vun  night  he  wos  in  there  as 
usual,  alone  vith  a  wery  old  friend  of  his,  as  wos  on  the  lock,  ven  he 
says  all  of  a  sudden,  '  I  ain't  seen  the  market  outside.  Bill,'  he  says 
(Fleet  Market  wos  there  at  that  time) — *  I  ain't  seen  the  market  out- 
side. Bill,'  he  says,  '  for  seventeen  year.'  *  I  know  you  ain't,'  says  the 
turnkey,  smoking  his  pipe.  '  I  should  like  to  see  it  for  a  minit,  Bill,' 
he  says.  *  Wery  probable,'  says  the  turnkey,  smoking  his  pipe  wery 
fierce,  and  making  believe  he  warn't  up  to  wot  the  little  man  wanted. 

*  Bill,'  says  the  little  man,  more  abrupt  than  afore,  *  I've  got  the  fancy 
in  my  head.  Let  me  see  the  public  street  once  more  afore  I  die  ;  and 
if  I  ain't  struck  with  apoplexy,  I'll  be  back  in  five  minits  by  the  clock.' 

*  And  wot  'ud  become  o'  me  if  you  wos  struck  with  apoplexy  ?'  said  the 
turnkey.  *  Vy,'  says  the  little  creetur,  *  whoever  found  me,  'ud  bring 
me  home,  for  I've  got  my  card  in  my  pocket,  Bill,'  he  says,  *  No.  20, 
Coffee-room  Flight :'  and  that  wos  true,  sure  enough,  for  ven  he  wanted 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  any  new  comer,  he  used  to  pull  out  a  little 
limp  card  vith  them  words  on  it  and  nothin'  else ;  in  consideration  o' 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  439 

vich,  he  wos  alvays  called  Number  Tventy.  The  turnkey  takes  a  fixed 
look  at  him,  and  at  last  he  says  in  a  solemn  manner,  '  Tventy,'  he  says, 
♦  I'll  trust  you  ;  you  won't  g-et  your  old  friend  into  trouble.*  '  No,  my 
boy ;  I  hope  I've  somethin*  better  behind  here,'  says  the  little  man,  and 
as  he  said  it,  he  hit  his  little  veskit  wery  hard,  and  then  a  tear  started 
out  o'  each  eye,  which  wos  wery  extraordinary  ;  for  it  wos  supposed  as 
water  never  touched  his  face.  He  shook  the  turnkey  by  the  hand ;  out 
he  vent " 

"  And  never  came  back  again,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Wrong  for  vunce.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  "  for  back  he  come  two 
minits  afore  the  time,  a  bilin'  vith  rage,  sayin*  how  he'd  been  nearly 
run  over  by  a  hackney  coach ;  that  he  warn't  used  to  it,  and  he  wos 
blovved  if  he  wouldn't  write  to  the  Lord  Mayor.  They  got  him  pacified 
at  last ;  and  for  five  year  arter  that,  he  never  even  so  much  as  peeped 
out  o'  the  lodge-gate." 

''  At  the  expiration  of  that  time  he  died,  1  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

*'  No  he  didn't,  Sir,"  replied  Sara.  "  He  got  a  curiosity  to  go  and 
taste  the  beer  at  a  new  public-house  over  the  way,  on  the  premises  ;  and 
it  wos  such  a  wery  nice  parlour,  that  he  took  it  into  his  head  to  go 
there  every  night,  which  he  did  for  along  time,  alvays  comin'  back  reg'lar 
about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  afore  the  gate  shut,  which  wos  all  wery  snug 
and  comfortable.  At  last  he  began  to  get  so  precious  jolly,  that  he 
used  to  forget  how  the  time  vent,  or  care  nothin'  at  all  about  it,  and  he 
vent  on  gettin'  later  and  later,  till  vun  night  his  old  friend  wos  just  a 
shuttin'  the  gate — had  turned  the  key  in  fact — ven  he  come  up.  '  Hold 
hard,  Bill,'  he  says.  '  Wot,  ain't  you  come  home  yet,  Tventy?'  says 
the  turnkey,  '  I  thought  you  was  in  long  ago.'  '  No  I  wasn't,'  says  the 
little  man,  vith  a  smile.  '  Veil  then,  I'll  tell  you  wot  it  is,  my  friend,* 
says  the  turnkey,  openin'  the  gate  wery  slow  and  sulky,  'it's  my 
'pinion  as  you've  got  into  bad  company  o'  late,  which  I'm  wery  sorry  to 
see.  Now  I  don't  wish  to  do  anything  harsh,'  he  says,  *  but  if  you 
can't  confine  yourself  to  steady  circles,  and  find  your  vay  back  at  reg'lar 
hours,  as  sure  as  you're  a  standin'  there,  I'll  shut  you  out  altogether  !* 
The  little  man  was  seized  vith  a  wiolent  tit  o'  tremblin*,  and  never  vent 
outside  the  prison  walls  artervards  ! " 

As  Sam  concluded,  Mr.  Pickwick  slowly  retraced  his  steps  down 
stairs.  After  a  few  thoughtful  turns  in  the  Painted  Ground,  which,  as 
it  was  now  dark,  was  nearly  deserted,  he  intimated  to  Mr.  Weller  that 
he  thought  it  high  time  for  him  to  withdraw  for  the  night;  requesting 
him  to  seek  a  bed  in  some  adjacent  public  house,  and  return  early  in 
the  morning,  to  make  arrangements  for  the  removal  of  his  master's 
wardrobe  from  the  George  and  Vulture.  This  request  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller  prepared  to  obey,  with  as  good  a  grace  as  he  could  assume,  but 
with  a  very  considerable  show  of  reluctance  nevertheless.  He  even 
went  so  far  as  to  essay  sundry  ineifectual  hints  regarding  the  expe- 
diency of  stretching  himself  on  the  gravel  for  that  night ;  but  finding 
Mr.  Pickwick  obstinately  deaf  to  any  such  suggestions,  finally  with- 
drew. 


440  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

There  is  no  disguising  the  fact  that  Mr.  Pickwick  felt  very  low- 
spirited  and  uncomfortable — not  for  lack  of  society,  for  the  prison  was 
very  full,  and  a  bottle  of  wine  would  at  once  have  purchased  the  utmost 
good-fellowship  of  a  few  choice  spirits,  without  any  more  formal 
ceremony  of  introduction  ;  but  he  was  alone  in  the  coarse  vulgar  crowd, 
and  felt  the  depression  of  spirit  and  sinking  of  heart,  naturally  consequent 
upon  the  reflection  that  he  was  cooped  and  caged  up  without  a  prospect 
of  liberation.  As  to  the  idea  of  releasing  himself  by  ministering  to  the 
sharpness  of  Dodson  &  Fogg,  it  never  for  an  instant  entered  his 
thoughts. 

In  this  frame  of  mind  he  turned  again  into  the  coffee-room  gallery, 
and  walked  slowly  to  and  fro.  The  place  was  intolerably  dirty,  and  the 
smell  of  tobacco  smoke  perfectly  suifocating.  There  was  a  perpetual 
slamming  and  banging  of  doors  as  the  people  went  in  and  out,  and  the 
noise  of  their  voices  and  footsteps  echoed  and  re-echoed  through  the 
passages  constantly.  A  young  woman,  with  a  child  in  her  arms,  who 
seemed  scarcely  able  to  crawl,  from  emaciation  and  misery,  was  walking 
up  and  down  the  passage  in  conversation  with  her  husband,  who  had 
no  other  place  to  see  her  in.  As  they  passed  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  could 
hear  the  female  sob  bitterly ;  and  once  she  burst  into  such  a  passion  of 
grief,  that  she  was  compelled  to  lean  against  the  wall  for  support,  while 
the  man  took  the  child  in  his  arms,  and  tried  to  soothe  her. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  heart  was  really  too  full  to  bear  it,  and  he  went  up 
stairs  to  bed. 

Now,  although  the  warden's  room  was  a  very  uncomfortable  one, 
teing,  in  every  point  of  decoration  and  convenience,  several  hundred 
degrees  inferior  to  the  commonest  infirmary  of  a  county  gaol,  it  had  at 
present  the  merit  of  being  wholly  deserted,  save  by  Mr.  Pickwick 
himself.  So,  he  sat  down  at  the  foot  of  his  little  iron  bedstead,  and 
began  to  wonder  how  much  a  year  the  warden  made  out  of  the  dirty 
room.  Having  satisfied  himself,  by  mathematical  calculation,  that  the 
apartment  was  about  equal  in  annual  value  to  the  freehold  of  a  small 
street  in  the  suburbs  of  London,  he  took  to  wondering  what  possible 
temptation  could  have  induced  a  dingy -looking  fly  that  was  crawling 
over  his  pantaloons,  to  come  into  a  close  prison,  when  he  had  the  choice 
of  so  many  airy  situations — a  course  of  meditation  which  led  him  to 
the  irresistible  conclusion  that  the  insect  was  insane.  After  settling 
this  point,  he  began  to  be  conscious  that  he  was  getting  sleepy;  where- 
upon he  took  his  nightcap  out  of  the  pocket  in  which  he  had  had  the 
precaution  to  stow  it  in  the  morning,  and,  leisurely  undressing  himself, 
got  into  bed,  and  fell  asleep. 

"  Bravo  !  Heel  over  toe — cut  and  shuflSe — pay  away  at  it,  Zephyr! 
I'm  smothered  if  the  Opera  House  isn't  your  proper  hemisphere.  Keep 
it  up.  Hooray  ! "  These  expressions,  delivered  in  a  most  boisterous  tone, 
and  accompanied  with  loud  peals  of  laughter,  roused  Mr.  Pickwick  from 
one  of  those  sound  slumbers  which,  lasting  in  reality  some  half  hour, 
seem  to  the  sleeper  to  have  been  protracted  for  about  three  weeks  or  a 
month. 

The  voice  had  no  sooner  ceased  than  the  room  was  shaken  with  such 


i 


i 


-^^.-^^- 


f] 


'^ 


f 


W 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB 


441 


violence  that  the  windows  rattled  in  their  frames,  and  the  bedsteads 
trembled  again.  Mr.  Pickwick  started  up,  and  remained  for  some 
minutes  fixed  in  mute  astonishment  at  the  scene  before  him. 

On  the  floor  of  the  room,  a  man  in  a  broad-skirted  green  coat,  with  cor- 
deroy  knee  smalls  and  grey  cotton  stockings,  was  performing  the  most 
popular  steps  of  a  hornpipe,  with  a  slang  and  burlesque  caricature  of  grace 
and  lightness,  which,  combined  with  the  very  appropriate  character  of  his 
costume,  was  inexpressibly  absurd.  Another  man,  evidently  very  drunk, 
who  had  probably  been  tumbled  into  bed  by  his  companions,  was  sitting 
up  between  the  sheets,  warbling  as  much  as  he  could  recollect  of  a 
comic  song,  with  the  most  intensely  sentimental  feeling  and  expression ; 
while  a  third,  seated  on  one  of  the  bedsteads,  was  applauding  both  per- 
formers with  the  air  of  a  profound  connoisseur,  and  encouraging  them 
by  such  ebullitions  of  feeling  as  had  already  roused  Mr.  Pickwick  from 
his  sleep. 

This  last  man  was  an  admirable  specimen  of  a  class  of  gentry  which 
never  can  be  seen  in  full  perfection  but  in  such  places  ; — they  may  be 
met  with,  in  an  imperfect  state,  occasionally  about  stable-yards  and 
public  houses ;  but  they  never  attain  their  full  bloom  except  in  these 
hot-beds,  which  would  almost  seem  to  be  considerately  provided  by  the 
Legislature  for  the  sole  purpose  of  rearing  them. 

He  was  a  tall  fellow,  with  an  olive  complexion,  long  dark  hair,  and 
very  thick  bushy  whiskers  meeting  under  his  chin.  He  wore  no  necker- 
chief, as  he  had  been  playing  rackets  all  day,  and  his  open  shirt  collar 
displayed  their  full  luxuriance.  On  his  head  he  wore  one  of  the  com- 
mon eighteenpenny  French  skull-caps,  with  a  gawdy  tassel  dangling 
therefrom,  very  happily  in  keeping  with  a  common  fustian  coat.  His 
legs,  which,  being  long,  were  afflicied  with  weakness,  graced  a  pair  of 
Oxford-mixture  trousers,  made  to  show  the  full  symmetry  of  the  limlTs. 
Being  somewhat  negligently  braced,  however,  and,  moreover,  but  imper- 
fectly buttoned,  they  fell  in  a  series  of  not  the  most  graceful  folds  over 
a  pair  of  shoes  sufficiently  down  at  heel  to  display  a  pair  of  very  soiled 
white  stockings.  There  was  a  rakish  vagabond  smartness,  and  a  kind 
of  boastful  rascality,  about  the  whole  man,  that  was  worth  a  mine  of 
gold. 

This  figure  was  the  first  to  perceive  that  Mr.  Pickwick  was  looking 
on ;  upon  which  he  winked  to  the  Zephyr,  and  entreated  him,  with 
mock  gravity,  not  to  wake  the  gentleman. 

"Why,  bless  the  gentleman's  honest  heart  and  soul!"  said  the  Ze- 
phyr, turning  round  and  affecting  the  extremity  of  surprise  ;  "  the 
gentleman  is  awake.  Hem ;  Shakspeare.  How  do  you  do.  Sir  ?  How 
is  Mary  and  Sarah,  Sir?  and  the  dear  old  lady  at  home,  Sir — eh.  Sir? 
Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  put  my  compliments  into  the  first  little 
parcel  you're  sending  that  way.  Sir,  and  say  that  I  would  have  sent  'em 
before,  only  I  was  afraid  they  might  be  broken  in  the  waggon,  Sir?" 

"  Don't  overwhelm  the  gentleman  with  ordinary  civilities  when  you 
see  he's  anxious  to  have  something  to  drink,"  said  the  gentleman  with 
the  whiskers,  with  a  jocose  air.  "  Why  don't  yoy  ask  the  gentleman 
what  he'll  take?" 


442  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Dear  me — I  quite  forgot,"  replied  the  other.  "  What  will  you 
take,  Sir?  Will  you  take  port  wine.  Sir,  or  sherry  wine.  Sir?  I  can 
recommend  the  ale,  Sir ;  or  perhaps  you'd  hke  to  taste  the  porter.  Sir  ? 
Allow  me  to  have  the  felicity  of  hanging-  up  your  nightcap.  Sir." 

With  this,  the  speaker  snatched  that  article  of  dress  from  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's head,  and  fixed  it  in  a  twinkling  on  that  of  the  drunken  man, 
who,  firmly  impressed  with  the  belief  that  he  was  delighting  a  nume- 
rous assembly,  continued  to  hammer  away  at  the  comic  song  in  the  most    || 
melancholy  strains  imaginable. 

Taking  a  man's  nightcap  from  his  brow  by  violent  means,  and  adjusting 
it  on  the  head  of  an  unknown  gentleman  of  dirty  exterior,  however  in- 
genious a  witticism  in  itself,  is  unquestionably  one  of  those  which  come 
under  the  denomination  of  practical  jokes.  Viewing  the  matter  precisely 
in  this  light,  Mr.  Pickwick,  without  the  slightest  intimation  of  his  pur- 
pose, sprang  vigorously  out  of  bed ;  struck  the  Zephyr  so  smart  a  blow 
in  the  chest,  as  to  deprive  him  of  a  considerable  portion  of  the  com- 
modity which  sometimes  bears  his  name;  and  then,  recapturing  his 
nightcap,  boldly  placed  himself  in  an  attitude  of  defence. 

*'  Now,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  gasping  no  less  from  excitement  than 
from  the  expenditure  of  so  much  energy,  "  come  on — both  of  you — 
both  of  you."  And  with  this  liberal  invitation  the  worthy  gentleman 
communicated  a  revolving  motion  to  his  clenched  fists,  by  way  of 
appalling  his  antagonists  with  a  display  of  science. 

It  might  have  been  Mr.  Pickwick's  very  unexpected  gallantry,  or  it 
might  have  been  the  complicated  manner  in  which  he  had  got  himself 
out  of  bed,  and  fallen  all  in  a  mass  upon  the  hornpipe  man,  that  touched 
his  adversaries.  Touched  they  were;  for,  instead  of  then  and  there 
making  an  attempt  to  commit  manslaughter,  as  Mr.  Pickwick  implicitly 
believed  they  would  have  done,  they  paused,  stared  at  each  other  a  short 
time,  and  finally  laughed  outright. 

"  Well ;  you're  a  trump,  and  I  like  you  all  the  better  for  it,"  said  the 
Zephyr.  "Now  jump  into  bed  again,  or  you'll  catch  the  rheumatics. 
No  malice,  I  hope  ?"  said  the  man,  extending  a  hand  about  the  size  of 
the  yellow  clump  of  fingers  which  sometimes  swings  over  a  glover's 
door. 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great  alacrity ;  for,  now 
that  the  excitement  was  over,  he  began  to  feel  rather  cool  about  the 
legs. 

"  Allow  me  the  /ionour.  Sir?"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  whiskers, 
presenting  his  dexter  hand,  and  aspirating  the  h. 

"  With  much  pleasure.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  and  having  executed 
a  very  long  and  solemn  shake,  he  got  into  bed  again. 

"  My  name  is  Smangle,  Sir,"  said  the  man  with  the  whiskers. 

"  Oh,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Mine  is  Mivins,"  said  the  man  in  the  stockings. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

**  Hem,"  coughed  Mr.  Smangle. 

"  Did  you  speak,  Sir?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  No,  I  did  not,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Smangle. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  443 

"  I  thought  you  did,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

All  this  was  very  g-enteel  and  pleasant ;  and,  to  make  matters  still 
more  comfortable,  Mr.  Sraangle  assured  I\Ir.  Pickwick  a  great  many 
times  that  he  entertained  a  very  high  respect  for  the  feelings  of  a  gentle- 
man ;  which  sentiment,  indeed,  did  him  infinite  credit,  as  he  could  be  in 
no  wise  supposed  to  understand  them. 

"  Are  you  going  through  the  Court,  Sir?**  inquired  Mr.  Smangle. 

"  Through  the  what  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Through  the  Court — Portugal  Street — the  Court  for  the  Relief  of 
you  know." 

"  Oh,  no,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  No,  I  am  not." 

"Going  out,  perhaps?"  suggested  Mivins. 

*'  I  fear  not,"  repHed  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  I  refuse  to  pay  some  damages, 
and  am  here  in  consequence." 

*'  Ah,"  said  Mr.  Smangle,  "  paper  has  been  my  ruin." 

"  A  iitationer,  I  presume.  Sir?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  innocently. 

"  Stationer!  No,  no;  confound  and  curse  me  ! — not  so  low  as  that. 
No  trade.    When  I  say  paper,  I  mean  bills." 

"  Oh,  you  use  the  word  in  that  sense.     I  see,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Damme  !  a  gentleman  must  expect  reverses,"  said  Smangle.  "  What 
of  that?  Here  am  I  in  the  Fleet  Prison.  Well;  good.  What  then? 
I'm  none  the  worse  for  that,  am  I  ?" 

"  Not  a  bit,"  replied  Mr.  Mivins.  And  he  was  quite  right ;  for,  so 
far  from  Mr.  Sraangle  being  any  the  worse  for  it,  he  was  something  the 
better,  inasmuch  as  to  qualify  himself  for  the  place,  he  had  attained 
gratuitous  possession  of  certain  articles  of  jewellery,  which,  long  before 
that,  had  found  their  way  to  the  pawnbroker's. 

*'  Well ;  but  come,"  said  Mr.  Smangle  ;  "  this  is  dry  work.  Let's 
rinse  our  mouths  with  a  drop  of  burnt  sherry  ;  the  last  comer  shall 
stand  it,  Mivins  shall  fetch  it,  and  I'll  help  to  drink  it.  That's  a  fair 
and  gentlemanlike  division  of  labour,  any  how — curse  me  !" 

Unwilling  to  hazard  another  quarrel,  Mr.  Pickwick  gladly  assented  to 
the  proposition,  and  consigned  the  money  to  Mr.  Mivins,  who,  as  it 
was  nearly  eleven  o'clock,  lost  no  time  in  repairing  to  the  coiFee-room 
on  his  errand. 

"  I  say,"  whispered  Smangle,  the  moment  his  friend  had  left  the 
room  ;  "  what  did  you  give  him  ?" 

"  Half  a  sovereign,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  He's  a  devilish  pleasant  gentlemanly  dog,"  said  Mr.  Smangle ; — 

"  infernal  pleasant.     I  don't  know  anybody  more  so ;  but "     Here 

Mr.  Smangle  stopped  short,  and  shook  his  head  dubiously. 

"  You  don't  think  there  is  any  probability  of  his  appropriating  the 
money  to  his  own  use?"  said  ]Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Oh,  no  —  mind,  I  don't  say  that ;  I  expressly  say  that  he's  a 
devilish  gentlemanly  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Smangle.  "  But  I  think,  perhaps, 
if  somebody  went  down,  just  to  see  that  he  didn't  drop  his  beak  into  the 
jug  by  accident,  or  make  some  confounded  mistake  in  losing  the  money 
as  he  came  up  stairs,  it  would  be  as  well.  Here,  you  Sir,  just  run  down 
stairs,  and  look  after  that  gentleman,  will  you?" 


444  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

This  request  was  addressed  to  a  little,  timid-looking,  nervous  man, 
whose  appearance  bespoke  great  poverty,  and  who  had  been  crouching 
on  his  bedstead  all  this  while,  apparently  quite  stupified  by  the  novelty 
of  his  situation. 

"You  know  where  the  coffee-room  is,"  said  Smangle ;  "just  run 
down,  and  tell  that  gentleman  you've  come  to  help  him  up  with  the 
jug.  Or — stop — I'll  tell  you  what — I'll  tell  you  how  we'll  do  him," 
said  Smangle,  with  a  cunning  look. 

"  How  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Send  down  word  that  he's  to  spend  the  change  in  cigars.  Capital 
thought.  Run  and  tell  him  that ;  d'ye  hear  ?  They  shan't  be  wasted," 
continued  Smangle,  turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  Fll  smoke  'em." 

This  manoeuvring  was  so  exceedingly  ingenious,  and,  withal,  per- 
formed with  such  immoveable  composure  and  coolness,  that  Mr.  Pick- 
wick would  have  had  no  wish  to  disturb  it,  even  if  he  had  had  the 
power.  In  a  short  time  Mr.  Mivins  returned,  bearing  the  sherry,  which 
Mr.  Smangle  dispensed  in  two  little  cracked  mugs;  considerately  re- 
marking, with  reference  to  himself,  that  a  gentleman  must  not  be  par- 
ticular under  such  circumstances,  and,  for  his  part,  he  was  not  too 
proud  to  drink  out  of  the  jug  ;  in  which,  to  show  his  sincerity,  he  forth- 
with pledged  the  company  in  a  daught  which  half  emptied  it. 

An  excellent  understanding  having  been,  by  these  means,  promoted, 
Mr.  Smangle  proceeded  to  entertain  his  hearers  with  a  relation  of  divers 
romantic  adventures  in  which  he  had  been  from  time  to  time  engaged, 
involving  various  interesting  anecdotes  of  a  thorough-bred  horse,  and  a 
magnificent  Jewess,  both  of  surpassing  beauty,  and  much  coveted  by 
the  nobility  and  gentry  of  these  kingdoms. 

Long  before  these  elegant  extracts  from  the  biography  of  a  gentleman 
were  concluded,  Mr.  Mivins  had  betaken  himself  to  bed,  and  set  in 
snoring  for  the  night :  leaving  the  timid  stranger  and  Mr.  Pickwick  to 
the  full  benefit  of  Mr.  Smangle's  experiences. 

Nor  were  the  two  last-named  gentlemen  as  much  edified  as  they 
might  have  been  by  the  moving  passages  which  were  narrated.  Mr. 
Pickwick  had  been  in  a  state  of  slumber  for  some  time,  when  he  had  a 
faint  perception  of  the  drunken  man  bursting  out  afresh  with  the  comic 
song,  and  receiving  from  Mr.  Smangle  a  gentle  intimation,  through  the 
medium  of  the  water  jug,  that  his  audience  were  not  musically  disposed. 
He  then  once  again  dropped  off  to  sleep,  with  a  confused  consciousness 
that  Mr.  Smangle  was  still  engaged  in  relating  a  long  story,  the  chief 
point  of  which  appeared  to  be,  that,  on  some  occasion  particularly  stated 
and  set  forth,  he  had  "done"  a  bill  and  a  gentleman  at  the  same  time. 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB.  445 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

ILLUSTRATIVE,  LIKE  THE  PRECEDING  ONE,  OF  THE  OLD  PROVERB, 
THAT  ADVERSITY  BRINGS  A  MAN  ACQUAINTED  WITH  STRANGE 
BED-FELLOWS.  LIKEWISE  CONTAINING  MR.  PICKWICK's  EXTRA- 
ORDINARY AND  STARTLING  ANNOUNCEMENT  TO  MR.  SAMUEL 
WELLER. 

When  Mr.  Pickwick  opened  his  eyes  next  morning-,  the  first  object 
upon  which  they  rested  was  Samuel  Weller,  seated  upon  a  small  black 
portmanteau,  intently  reg-arding-,  apparently  in  a  condition  of  profound 
abstraction,  the  stately  fig-ure  of  the  dashing  Mr.  Smangle,  while  Mr. 
Smangle  himself,  who  was  already  partially  dressed,  was  seated  on  his 
bedstead,  occupied  in  the  desperately  hopeless  attempt  of  staring  Mr. 
Weller  out  of  countenance.  We  say  desperately  hopeless,  because 
Sam,  with  a  comprehensive  gaze,  which  took  in  Mr.  Smangle's  cap, 
feet,  head,  face,  legs,  and  whiskers,  all  at  the  same  time,  continued  to 
look  steadily  on  with  every  demonstration  of  lively  satisfaction,  but  with 
no  more  regard  to  Mr.  Smangle's  personal  sentiments  on  the  subject, 
than  he  would  have  displayed  had  he  been  inspecting  a  wooden  statue, 
or  a  straw-embowelled  Guy  Faux. 

*'  Well ;  will  you  know  me  again  ?"  said  Mr.  Smangle,  with  a  frown. 

*'  rd  svear  to  you  any  veres.  Sir,"  replied  Sam,  cheerfully. 

"Don't  be  impertinent  to  a  gentleman,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Smangle. 

**  Not  on  no  account,"  replied  Sam.  "If  you'll  tell  me  ven  he 
wakes,  I'll  be  upon  the  wery  best  extra-super  behaviour  ! "  This 
observation,  having  a  remote  tendency  to  imply  that  Mr.  Smangle  was 
no  gentleman,  rather  kindled  his  ire. 

*'  Mivins  !'^  said  Mr.  Smangle,  with  a  passionate  air. 

"  What's  the  office  ?  "  replied  that  gentleman  from  his  couch. 

"  Who  the  devil  is  this  fellow  ?  " 

"  'Gad,"  said  Mr.  Mivins,  looking  lazily  out  from  under  the  bed- 
clothes, "  I  ought  to  ask  you  that.     Hasn't  he  any  business  here  ?'* 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Smangle. 

"  Then  knock  him  down  stairs,  and  tell  him  not  to  presume  to  get 
up  till  I  come  and  kick  him,"  rejoined  Mr.  Mivins  ;  and  with  this  prompt 
advice,  that  excellent  gentleman  again  betook  himself  to  slumber. 

The  conversation  exhibiting  these  unequivocal  symptoms  of  rather 
verging  on  the  personal,  Mr.  Pickwick  deemed  it  a  fit  point  at  which  to 
interpose. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Sir,"  rejoined  that  gentleman. 

*'  Has  anything  new  occurred  since  last  night  ?  " 

"  Nothin'  partickler.  Sir,"  replied  Sam,  glancing  at  Mr.  Smangle's 
whiskers  ;  "  the  late  prewailance  of  a  close  and  confined  atmosphere  has 


446  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

been  rayther  favourable  to  the  growth  of  veeds,  of  an  alarmin'  and  san- 
gvinary  natur ;  but  vith  that  'ere  exception  things  is  quiet  enough." 

"  I  shall  get  up,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  *'  give  me  some  clean  things." 

Whatever  hostile  intentions  Mr.  Sraangle  might  have  entertained,  his 
thoughts  were  speedily  diverted  by  the  unpacking  of  the  portmanteau ;  the 
contents  of  which  appeared  to  impress  him  at  once  with  a  most  favourable 
opinion,  not  only  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  but  of  Sam  also,  who,  he  took  an 
early  opportunity  of  declaring,  in  a  tone  of  voice  loud  enough  for  that 
eccentric  personage  to  overhear,  was  a  regular  thorough-bred  original, 
and  consequently  the  very  man  after  his  own  heart.  As  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, the  aifection  he  conceived  for  him  knew  no  limits. 

"  Now  is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  my  dear  Sir  ? "  said 
Smangle. 

"  Nothing  that  I  am  aware  of,  I  am  obliged  to  you,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  No  linen  that  you  want  sent  to  the  washerwoman's  ?  I  know  a 
delightful  washerwoman  outside,  that  comes  for  my  things  twice  a  week, 
and,  by  Jove ! — how  devilish  lucky  ! — this  is  the  very  day  she  calls. 
Shall  I  put  any  of  those  little  things  up  with  mine  ?  Don't  say  any- 
thing about  the  trouble.  Confound  and  curse  it !  if  one  gentleman 
under  a  cloud  is  not  to  put  himself  a  little  out  of  the  way  to  assist 
another  gentleman  in  the  same  condition,  what's  human  nature?" 

Thus  spake  Mr.  Smangle,  edging  himself  meanwhile  as  near  as  pos- 
sible to  the  portmanteau,  and  beaming  forth  looks  of  the  most  fervent 
and  disinterested  friendship. 

"  There's  nothing  you  want  to  give  out  for  the  man  to  brush,  my 
dear  creature,  is  there  ?  "  resumed  Smangle. 

"  Nothin'  whoever,  my  fine  feller,"  rejoined  Sam,  taking  the  reply 
into  his  own  mouth.  "  P'raps  if  vun  of  us  wos  to  brush,  without 
troubling  the  man,  it  'ud  be  more  agreeable  for  all  parties,  as  the  school- 
master said  ven  the  young  gentlemen  objected  to  being  flogged  by  the 
butler." 

"  And  there's  nothing  that  1  can  send  in  my  little  box  to  the  washer- 
woman's, is  there  ?  "  said  Smangle,  turning  from  Sam  to  Mr.  Pickwick 
with  an  air  of  some  discomfiture. 

*'  Nothin'  whatever,  Sir,"  retorted  Sam  ;  "  I'm  afeerd  the  little  box 
must  be  chock  full  o'  your  own  as  it  is." 

This  speech  was  accompanied  with  such  a  very  expressive  look  at  that 
particular  portion  of  Mr.  Smangle's  attire,  by  the  appearance  of  which 
the  skill  of  laundresses  in  getting  up  gentlemen's  linen  is  generally 
tested,  that  he  was  fain  to  turn  upon  his  heel,  and,  for  the  present  at 
any  rate,  to  give  up  all  design  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  purse  and  wardrobe. 
He  accordingly  retired  in  dudgeon  to  the  racket-ground,  where  he  made 
a  light  and  wholesome  breakfast  upon  a  couple  of  the  cigars  which  had 
been  purchased  on  the  previous  night. 

Mr.  Mivins,  who  was  no  smoker,  and  whose  account  for  small  articles 
of  chandlery  had  also  reached  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  slate,  and  been 
"  carried  over "  to  the  other  side,  remained  in  bed,  and,  in  his  own 
words,  "  took  it  out  in  sleep." 


i 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  447 

After  breakfasting*  in  a  small  closet  attached  to  the  coffee-room, 
which  bore  the  imposing  title  of  the  Snuggery,  the  temporary  inmate 
of  which,  in  consideration  of  a  small  additional  charge,  has  the  unspeak- 
able advantage  of  overhearing  all  the  conversation  in  the  coffee-room 
aforesaid  ;  and  after  despatching  Mr.  Weller  on  some  necessary  errands, 
Mr.  Pickwick  repaired  to  the  Lodge,  to  consult  Mr.  Roker  concerning 
his  future  accommodation. 

*'  Accommodation,  eh  ?  "  said  that  gentleman,  consulting  a  large  book  ; 
"  Plenty  of  that,  Mr.  Pickvick.  Your  chummage  ticket  will  be  on 
twenty-seven,  in  the  third." 

"  Oh,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     *'  My  what,  did  you  say  ?" 

"  Your  chummage  ticket,"  replied  Mr.  Roker;  "  you're  up  to  that  ?" 

"  Not  quite,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile. 

*'  Why,"  said  Mr.  Roker,  "  it's  as  plain  as  Salisbury.  You'll  have  a 
chummage  ticket  upon  twenty-seven  in  the  third,  and  them  as  is  in  the 
room  will  be  your  chums." 

*'  Are  there  many  of  them?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  dubiously. 

*'  Three,"  replied  Mr.  Roker. 

Mr.  Pickwick  coughed. 

"  One  of  'em  's  a  parson,"  said  Mr.  Roker,  filling  up  a  little  piece  of 
paper  as  he  spoke,  "  another's  a  butcher." 

<*  Eh  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  A  butcher,"  repeated  Mr.  Roker,  giving  the  nib  of  his  pen  a  tap  on 
the  desk  to  cure  it  of  a  disinclination  to  mark.  "  What  a  thorough- 
paced goer  he  used  to  be  sure-ly !  You  remember  Tom  Martin, 
Neddy  ?  "  said  Roker,  appealing  to  another  man  in  the  lodge,  who  was 
paring  the  mud  off  his  shoes  with  a  five-and- twenty  bladed  pocket 
knife. 

"  I  should  think  so,"  replied  the  party  addressed,  with  a  strong  em- 
phasis on  the  personal  pronoun. 

"  Bless  my  dear  eyes,"  said  Mr.  Roker,  shaking  his  head  slowly  from 
side  to  side,  and  gazing  abstractedly  out  of  the  grated  window  before 
him,  as  if  he  were  fondly  recalling  some  peaceful  scene  of  his  early 
youth  ;  "  it  seems  but  yesterday  that  he  whopped  the  coal-heaver  down 
Fox-under-the-Hill  by  the  wharf  there.  I  think  I  can  see  him  now,  a 
coming  up  the  Strand  between  the  two  street-keepers,  a  little  sobered 
by  the  bruising,  with  a  patch  o'  winegar  and  brown  paper  over  his  right 
eyelid,  and  that  'ere  lovely  bull-dog,  as  pinned  the  little  boy  arterwards, 
a  following  at  his  heels.     What  a  rum  thing  time  is,  ain't  it,  Neddy?  " 

The  gentleman  to  whom  these  observations  were  addressed,  who  ap- 
peared of  a  taciturn  and  thoughtful  cast,  merely  echoed  the  inquiry ; 
and  Mr.  Roker,  shaking  off  the  poetical  and  gloomy  train  of  thought 
into  which  he  had  been  betrayed,  descended  to  the  common  business  of 
life,  and  resumed  his  pen. 

"  Do  you  know  what  the  third  gentleman  is  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, not  very  much  gratified  by  this  description  of  his  future  asso- 
ciates. 

"  What  is  that  Simpson,  Neddy  ?  "  said  Mr.  Roker,  turning  to  his 
companion. 


448  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  What  Simpson  ?  "  said  Neddy. 

"  Why  him  in  twenty-seven  in  the  third,  that  this  gentleman  's  going- 
to  be  chummed  on." 

"  Oh,  him ! "  replied  Neddy :  "  he's  nothing  exactly.  He  was  a 
horse  chaunter :  he's  a  leg  now." 

"  Ah,  so  I  thought,"  rejoined  Mr.  Roker,  closing  the  book,  and 
placing  the  small  piece  of  paper  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  hands — **  That's  the 
ticket.  Sir." 

Very  much  perplexed  by  this  summary  disposition  of  his  person, 
Mr.  Pickwick  walked  back  into  the  prison,  revolving  in  his  mind  what 
he  had  better  do.  Convinced,  however,  that  before  he  took  any  other 
steps  it  would  be  advisable  to  see,  and  hold  personal  converse  with, 
the  three  gentlemen  with  whom  it  was  proposed  to  quarter  him,  he 
made  the  best  of  his  way  to  the  third  flight. 

After  groping  about  in  the  gallery  for  some  time,  attempting  in  the 
dim  light  to  decipher  the  numbers  on  the  different  doors,  he  at  length 
appealed  to  a  potboy,  who  happened  to  be  pursuing  his  morning  occu- 
pation of  gleaning  for  pewter. 

"  Which  is  twenty-seven,  my  good  fellow?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Five  doors  further  on,"  replied  the  potboy.  "  There's  the  likeness 
of  a  man  being  hung,  and  smoking  a  pipe  the  while,  chalked  outside  the 
door." 

Guided  by  this  direction,  Mr.  Pickwick  proceeded  slowly  along  the 
gallery  until  he  encountered  the  "  portrait  of  a  gentleman,"  above 
described,  upon  whose  countenance  he  tapped,  with  the  knuckle  of  his 
fore-finger — gently  at  first,  and  then  more  audibly.  After  repeating 
this  process  several  times  without  eff"ect,  he  ventured  to  open  the  door 
and  peep  in. 

There  was  only  one  man  in  the  room,  and  he  was  leaning  out  of 
window  as  far  as  he  could  without  over-balancing  himself,  endeavouring 
with  great  perseverance  to  spit  upon  the  crown  of  the  hat  of  a  personal 
friend  on  the  parade  below.  As  neither  speaking,  coughing,  sneezing, 
knocking,  nor  any  other  ordinary  mode  of  attracting  attention,  made 
this  person  aware  of  the  presence  of  a  visiter,  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  some 
delay,  stepped  up  to  the  window,  and  pulled  him  gently  by  the  coat- 
tail.  The  individual  brought  in  his  head  and  shoulders  with  great 
swiftness,  and  surveying  Mr.  Pickwick  from  head  to  foot,  demanded 
in  a  surly  tone  what  the — something  beginning  with  a  capital  H — he 
wanted. 

"  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  consulting  his  ticket,  "  I  believe  this 
is  twenty -seven  in  the  third." 

"  Well  ?  "  replied  the  gentleman. 

*'  I  have  come  here  in  consequence  of  receiving  this  bit  of  paper," 
rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Hand  it  over,"  said  the  gentleman. 

Mr.  Pickwick  complied. 

"  I  think  Roker  might  have  chummed  you  somewhere  else,"  said 
Mr.  Simpson  (for  it  was  the  leg),  after  a  very  discontented  sort  of  a 
pause. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  449 

Mr.  Pickwick  thought  so  also  ;  but,  under  all  the  circumstances,  he 
considered  it  a  matter  of  sound  policy  to  be  silent. 

Mr.  Simpson  mused  for  a  few  moments  after  this,  and  then,  thrusting- 
his  head  out  of  the  window,  gave  a  shrill  whistle,  and  pronounced  some 
word  aloud  several  times.  What  the  word  was,  Mr.  Pickwick  could  not 
distinguish ;  but  he  rather  inferred  that  it  must  be  some  nickname  which 
distinguished  Mr.  Martin,  from  the  fact  of  a  great  number  of  gentle- 
men on  the  ground  below,  immediately  proceeding  to  cry  "  Butcher,"  in 
imitation  of  the  tone  in  which  that  useful  class  of  society  are  wont 
diurnally  to  make  their  presence  known  at  area  railings. 

Subsequent  occurrences  confirmed  the  accuracy  of  Mr.  Pickwick's 
impression  ;  for,  in  a  few  seconds,  a  gentleman,  prematurely  broad  for 
his  years,  clothed  in  a  professional  blue  jean  frock,  and  top-boots  with 
circular  toes,  entered  the  room  nearly  out  of  breath,  closely  followed  by 
another  gentleman  in  very  shabby  black,  and  a  seal-skin  cap.  The 
latter  gentleman,  who  fastened  his  coat  all  the  way  up  to  his  chin  by 
means  of  a  pin  and  a  button  alternately,  had  a  very  coarse  red  face,  and 
looked  like  a  drunken  chaplain,  which,  indeed,  he  was. 

These  two  gentlemen  having  by  turns  perused  Mr.  Pickwick's  billet, 
the  one  expressed  his  opinion  that  it  was  "  a  rig,"  and  the  other  his 
conviction  that  it  was  "  a  go,"  Having  recorded  their  feelings  in  these 
very  intelligible  terms,  they  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick  and  each  other  in 
awkward  silence. 

"  It's  an  aggravating  thing,  just  as  we  got  the  beds  so  snug,"  said  the 
chaplain,  looking  at  three  dirty  mattresses,  each  rolled  up  in  a  blanket, 
which  occupied  one  corner  of  the  room  during  the  day,  and  formed  a 
kind  of  slab,  on  which  were  placed  an  old  cracked  basin,  ewer,  and  soap- 
dish,  of  common  yellow  earthenware,  with  a  blue  flower :  "  Very  aggra- 
vating." 

Mr.  Martin  expressed  the  same  opinion,  in  rather  stronger  terms; 
Mr.  Simpson,  after  having  let  a  variety  of  expletive  adjectives  loose 
upon  society  without  any  substantive  to  accompany  them,  tucked  up 
his  sleeves,  and  began  to  wash  the  greens  for  dinner. 

While  this  was  going  on,  Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  eyeing  the  room, 
which  was  filthily  dirty,  and  smelt  intolerably  close.  There  was  no 
vestige  of  either  carpet,  curtain,  or  blind.  There  was  not  even  a  closet 
in  it.  Unquestionably  there  were  but  few  things  to  put  away,  if  there 
had  been  one  ;  but,  however  few  in  number,  or  small  in  individual 
amount,  still  remnants  of  loaves,  and  pieces  of  cheese,  and  damp  towels, 
and  scraps  of  meat,  and  articles  of  wearing  apparel,  and  mutilated 
crockery,  and  bellows  without  nozzles,  and  toasting-forks  without 
prongs,  do  present  something  of  an  uncomfortable  appearance  when 
they  are  scattered  about  the  floor  of  a  small  apartment,  which  is  the 
common  sitting  and  sleeping  room  of  three  idle  men. 

"  I  suppose  this  can  be  managed  somehow,"  said  the  butcher,  after  a 
pretty  long  silence.     "  What  will  you  take  to  go  out  ?" 

*'  I  beg  your  pardon,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  What  did  you  say  ? 
I  hardly  understand  you." 

"What  will  you  take  to  be  paid  out?"  said  the  butcher.  "The 
regular  chummage  is  two-and-sixpence.     Will  you  take  three  bob  ?  " 


450  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  — And  a  bender,"  sug-g-ested  the  clerical  gentleman. 

"  Well,  I  don't  mind  that ;  it's  only  twopence  a-piece  more,"  said 
Mr.  Martin.  "  What  do  you  say  now?  We'll  pay  you  out  for  three- 
and-sixpence  a  week.     Come." 

"  And  stand  a  gallon  of  beer  down,"  chimed  in  Mr.  Simpson. 
«  There." 

"  And  drink  it  on  the  spot,"  said  the  chaplain.     '*  Now." 

*'  I  really  am  so  wholly  ignorant  of  the  rules  of  this  place,"  returned 
Mr.  Pickwick,  "  that  I  do  not  yet  comprehend  you.  Can  I  live  any- 
where else?     I  thought  I  could  not." 

At  this  inquiry  Mr.  Martin  looked  with  a  countenance  of  excessive 
surprise  at  his  two  friends,  and  then  each  gentleman  pointed  with  his 
right  thumb  over  his  left  shoulder.  This  action,  imperfectly  described 
in  words  by  the  very  feeble  term  of  "  over  the  left,"  when  performed  by 
any  number  of  ladies  or  gentlemen  who  are  accustomed  to  act  in  unison, 
has  a  very  graceful  and  airy  effect ;  its  expression  is  one  of  light  and 
playful  sarcasm. 

"  Can  you  I "  repeated  Mr.  Martin,  with  a  smile  of  pity. 

"  Well,  if  I  knew  as  little  of  life  as  that,  I'd  eat  my  hat  and  swallow 
the  buckle,"  said  the  clerical  g-entleman. 

"  So  would  I,"  added  the  sporting  one,  solemnly. 

After  this  introductory  preface,  the  three  chums  informed  Mr.  Pick- 
wick in  a  breath,  that  money  was,  in  the  Fleet,  just  what  money  was 
out  of  it ;  that  it  would  instantly  procure  him  almost  anything*  he  de- 
sired ;  and  that,  supposing  he  had  got  it,  and  had  no  objection  to  spend 
it,  if  he  only  signified  his  wish  to  have  a  room  to  himself,  he  might 
take  possession  of  one,  furnished  and  fitted  to  boot,  in  half  an  hour's 
time. 

With  this,  the  parties  separated,  very  much  to  their  mutual  satisfac- 
tion ;  Mr.  Pickwick  once  more  retracing  his  steps  to  the  lodge,  and  the 
three  companions  adjourning  to  the  coffee-room,  there  to  expend  the 
fiive  shillings  which  the  clerical  gentleman  had,  with  admirable  prudence 
and  foresight,  borrowed  of  him  for  the  purpose. 

"  I  knowed  it  I "  said  Mr.  Roker,  with  a  chuckle,  when  Mr.  Pick- 
wick stated  the  object  with  which  he  had  returned.  "  Didn't  I  say  so, 
Neddy?" 

The  philosophical  owner  of  the  universal  penknife  growled  an  affirma- 
tive. 

"  I  knowed  you'd  want  a  room  for  yourself,  bless  you ! "  said  Mr. 
E-oker.  "  Let  me  see.  You'll  want  some  furniture.  You'll  hire  that 
of  me,  I  suppose  ?     That's  the  reg'Iar  thing." 

*'  With  great  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  There's  a  capital  room  up  in  the  coffee-room  flight,  that  belongs  to 
a  Chancery  prisoner,"  said  Mr.  Roker.  "  It'll  stand  you  in  a  pound 
a-week.     I  suppose  you  don't  mind  that  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Just  step  there  with  me,"  said  Roker,  taking  up  his  hat  with  great 
alacrity ;  "  the  matter's  settled  in  five  minutes.  Lord  I  why  didn't  you 
say  at  first  that  you  was  willing  to  come  down  handsome  ?  " 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  451 

The  matter  was  soon  arranged,  as  the  turnkey  had  foretold.  The 
Chancery  prisoner  had  been  there  long  enough  to  have  lost  friends,  for- 
tune, home,  and  happiness,  and  to  have  acquired  the  right  of  having  a 
room  to  himself.  As  he  laboured,  however,  under  the  slight  incon- 
venience of  often  wanting  a  morsel  of  bread,  he  eagerly  listened  to  Mr. 
Pickwick's  proposal  to  rent  the  apartment ;  and  readily  covenanted  and 
agreed  to  yield  him  up  the  sole  and  undisturbed  possession  thereof,  in  con- 
sideration of  the  weekly  payment  of  twenty  shillings;  from  which  fund 
he  furthermore  contracted  to  pay  out  any  person  or  persons  that  might 
be  chummed  upon  it. 

As  they  struck  the  bargain,  Mr.  Pickwick  surveyed  him  with  a  pain- 
ful interest.  He  was  a  tall,  gaunt,  cadaverous  man,  in  an  old  great  coat 
and  slippers,  with  sunken  cheeks,  and  a  restless,  eager  eye.  His  lips 
were  bloodless,  and  his  bones  sharp  and  thin.  God  help  him  !  the  iron 
teeth  of  confinement  and  privation  had  been  slowly  filing  them  down 
for  twenty  years. 

"  And  where  will  you  live  meanwhile.  Sir?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he 
laid  the  amount  of  the  first  week's  rent  in  advance  on  the  tottering 
table. 

The  man  gathered  up  the  money  with  a  trembling  hand,  and  replied 
that  he  didn't  know  yet ;  he  must  go  and  see  where  he  could  move  his 
bed  to. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  laying  his  hand  gently  and 
compassionately  on  his  arm ; — "  I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  live  in 
some  noisy  crowded  place.  Now,  pray,  consider  this  room  your  own 
when  you  want  quiet,  or  when  any  of  your  friends  come  to  see  you." 

"  Friends  !"  interposed  the  man,  in  a  voice  which  rattled  in  his  throat. 
*'  If  I  lay  dead  at  the  bottom  of  the  deepest  mine  in  the  world,  tight 
screwed  down  and  soldered  in  my  coffin,  rotting  in  the  dark  and  filthy 
ditch  that  drags  its  slime  along  beneath  the  foundations  of  this  prison, 
I  could  not  be  more  forgotten  or  unheeded  than  I  am  here.  I  am  a 
dead  man — dead  to  society,  without  the  pity  they  bestow  on  those 
Avhose  souls  have  passed  to  judgment.  Friends  to  see  me  !  My  God  ! 
I  have  sunk  from  the  prime  of  life  into  old  age  in  this  place,  and  there 
is  not  one  to  raise  his  hand  above  my  bed,  when  I  lie  dead  upon  it,  and 
say,  '  It  is  a  blessing  he  is  gone  I' " 

The  excitement,  which  had  cast  an  unwonted  light  over  the  man's  face 
while  he  spoke,  subsided  as  he  concluded ;  and,  pressing  his  withered 
hands  together  in  a  hasty  and  disordered  manner,  he  shuffled  from  the 
room. 

"  Rides  rather  rusty,"  said  Mr.  Roker,  with  a  smile.  "  Ah  !  they're 
like  the  elephants  ;  they  feel  it  now  and  then,  and  it  makes  'em 
wild!" 

Having  made  this  deeply-sympathising  remark,  Mr.  Roker  entered 
upon  his  arrangements  with  such  expedition,  that  in  a  short  time  the 
room  was  furnished  with  a  carpet,  six  chairs,  a  table,  a  sofa  bedstead,  a 
tea-kettle,  and  various  small  et  ceterasy  on  hire,  at  the  very  reasonable 
rate  of  seven-and-twenty  shillings  and  sixpence  per  week. 

"Now,  is  there  anything  more  we  can  do  for  you?"  inquired  Mr. 

K    K 


452  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

E-oker,  looking-  round  with  great  satisfaction,  and  gaily  chinking-  the 
first  week's  hire  in  his  closed  list. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  heen  musing-  deeply  for 
some  time.  "  Are  there  any  people  here  who  run  on  errands,  and  so 
forth?" 

"  Outside,  do  you  mean?"  inquired  Mr.  lloker. 

"  Yes ;  I  mean  who  are  able  to  go  outside.     Not  prisoners." 

"  Yes,  there  is,"  said  Roker.  '^  There's  an  unfortunate  devil,  who 
has  got  a  friend  on  the  poor  side,  that's  glad  to  do  anything-  of  that 
sort.  He's  been  running  odd  jobs,  and  that,  for  the  last  two  months. 
Shall  I  send  him?" 

"  If  you  please,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''  Stay ; — no.  The  poor 
side,  you  say.     I  should  hke  to  see  it ; — I'll  go  to  him  myself." 

The  poor  side  of  a  debtor's  prison  is,  as  its  name  imports,  that  in 
which  the  most  miserable  and  abject  class  of  debtors  are  confined.  A 
prisoner  having  declared  upon  the  poor  side,  pays  neither  rent  nor 
chummage.  His  fees,  upon  entering-  and  leaving  the  gaol,  are  reduced 
in  amount,  and  he  becomes  entitled  to  a  share  of  some  small  quantities 
of  food ;  to  provide  which,  a  few  charitable  persons  have,  from  time  to 
time,  left  trifling  legacies  in  their  wills.  Most  of  our  readers  will 
remember,  that,  until  within  a  very  few  years  past,  there  was  a  kind 
of  iron  cage  in  the  wall  of  the  Fleet  Prison,  within  which  was  posted 
some  man  of  hungry  looks,  who,  from  time  to  time,  rattled  a  money- 
box, and  exclaimed,  in  a  mournful  voice,  "  Pray,  remember  the  poor 
debtors ;  pray,  remember  the  poor  debtors."  The  receipts  of  this  box, 
when  there  were  any,  were  divided  among  the  poor  prisoners,  and  the 
men  on  the  poor  side  relieved  each  other  in  this  degrading  office. 

Although  this  custom  has  been  abolished,  and  the  cage  is  now 
boarded  up,  the  miserable  and  destitute  condition  of  these  unhappy- 
persons  remains  the  same.  We  no  longer  suffer  them  to  appeal  at  the 
prison  gates  to  the  charity  and  compassion  of  the  passers  by ;  but  we 
still  leave  unblotted  in  the  leaves  of  our  statute  book,  for  the  reve- 
rence and  admiration  of  succeeding  ages,  the  just  and  wholesome  law 
which  declares  that  the  sturdy  felon  shall  be  fed  and  clothed,  and  that 
the  penniless  debtor  shall  be  left  to  die  of  starvation  and  nakedness. 
This  is  no  fiction.  Not  a  week  passes  over  our  heads  but,  in  every 
one  of  our  prisons  for  debt,  some  of  these  men  must  inevitably  expire 
in  the  slow  agonies  of  want,  if  they  were  not  relieved  by  their  fellow- 
prisoners. 

Turning  these  things  in  his  mind,  as  he  mounted  the  narrow  stair- 
case at  the  foot  of  which  Roker  had  left  him,  Mr.  Pickwick  gradually 
worked  himself  to  the  boiling-over  point;  and  so  excited  was  he  with 
his  reflections  on  this  subject,  that  he  had  burst  into  the  room  to  which 
he  had  been  directed,  before  he  had  any  distinct  recollection  either  of 
the  place  in  which  he  was,  or  of  the  object  of  his  visit. 

The  general  aspect  of  the  room  recalled  him  to  himself  at  once;  but 
he  had  no  sooner  cast  his  eyes  on  the  figure  of  a  man  who  was  brooding 
over  the  dusty  fire,  than,  letting  his  hat  fall  on  the  floor,  he  stood  per- 
fectly fixed  and  immoveable  with  astonishment. 


1 


i 


# 


i 


# 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  453 

Yes,  in  tattered  garments,  and  without  a  coat ;  his  common  calico  shirt 
yellow  and  in  rags ;  his  hair  hanging  over  his  face  ;  his  features  changed 
with  suffering,  and  pinched  with  famine, — there  sat  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle  ; 
his  head  resting  upon  his  hand,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  fire,  and  his  whole 
appearance  denoting  misery  and  dejection  I 

Near  him,  leaning  listlessly  against  the  wall,  stood  a  strong-built 
countryman,  flicking  with  a  worn-out  hunting-whip  the  top-boot  that 
adorned  his  right  foot :  his  left  being  thrust  into  an  old  slipper.  Horses, 
(logs,  and  drink  had  brought  him  there  pell-mell.  There  was  a  rusty 
spur  on  the  solitary  boot,  which  he  occasionally  jerked  into  the  empty 
air,  at  the  same  time  giving  the  boot  a  smart  blow,  and  muttering 
some  of  the  sounds  by  which  a  sportsman  encourages  his  horse.  He 
was  riding,  in  imagination,  some  desperate  steeple-chace  at  that  mo- 
ment. Poor  wretch  !  he  never  roiie  a  match  on  the  swiftest  animal  in 
his  costly  stud,  with  half  the  speed  at  which  he  had  torn  along  the  course 
that  ended  in  the  Fleet. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  an  old  man  was  seated  on  a  small 
wooden  box,  with  his  eyes  rivetted  on  the  floor,  and  his  face  settled  into 
an  expression  of  the  deepest  and  most  hopeless  despair.  A  young  girl — 
his  little  grand-daughter — was  hanging  about  him,  endeavouring,  with 
a  thousand  childish  devices,  to  engage  his  attention ;  but  the  old  man 
neither  saw  nor  heard  her.  The  voice  that  had  been  music  to  him,  and 
the  eyes  that  had  been  light,  fell  coldly  on  his  senses.  His  limbs  were 
shaking  with  disease,  and  the  palsy  had  fastened  on  his  mind. 

There  were  two  or  three  other  men  in  the  room,  congregated  in  a 
little  knot,  and  noisily  talking  among  themselves.  There  was  a  lean 
and  haggard  woman,  too — a  prisoner's  wife — who  was  watering,  with 
great  solicitude,  the  wretched  stump  of  a  dried-up,  withered  plant, 
which,  it  was  plain  to  see,  could  never  send  forth  a  green  leaf  again  ; — 
too  true  an  emblem,  perhaps,  of  the  office  she  had  come  there  to 
discharge. 

Such  were  the  objects  which  presented  themselves  to  Mr.  Pickwick's 
view,  as  he  looked  round  him  in  amazement.  The  noise  of  some  one 
stumbling  hastily  into  the  room  roused  him.  Turning  his  eyes  towards 
the  door,  they  encountered  the  new  comer;  and  in  him,  through  all  his 
rags,  and  dirt,  and  misery,  he  recognised  the  familiar  features  of  Mr, 
Job  Trotter. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick!*'  exclaimed  Job  aloud. 

"  Eh  ?"  said  Jingle,  starting  from  his  seat. 

<«  Mr. !      So  it  is — queer  ])lace — strange  thing — serves  me 

right — very."  And  with  this  Mr.  Jingle  thrust  his  hands  into  the 
place  where  his  trousers  pocket  used  to  be,  and,  dropping  his  chin  upon 
his  breast,  sunk  back  into  his  chair. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  affected ;  the  two  men  looked  so  very  miserable. 
The  sharp  involuntary  glance  Jingle  had  cast  at  a  small  piece  of  raw 
loin  of  mutton,  which  Job  had  brought  in  with  him,  said  more  of  their 
reduced  state  than  two  hours'  explanation  could  have  done.  He  looked 
mildly  at  Jingle,  and  said : — 

K  K   2 


454  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  I  should  like  to  speak  to  you  in  private.  Will  you  step  out  for  an 
instant?" 

"  Certainly/'  said  Jingle,  rising  hastily.  "  Can't  step  far — no  danger 
of  over-walking  yourself  here — spike  park — grounds  pretty — romantic, 
but  not  extensive — open  for  public  inspection — family  always  in  town 
—housekeeper  desperately  careful — very." 

"  You  have  forgotten  your  coat,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  they  walked 
out  to  the  staircase,  and  closed  the  door  after  them. 

"  Eh  ?  "  said  Jingle.  "  Spout — dear  relation — uncle  Tom — couldn't 
help  it — must  eat,  you  know.     Wants  of  nature — and  all  that." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Gone,  my  dear  Sir — last  coat — can't  help  it.  Lived  on  a  pair  of 
boots — whole  fortnight.  Silk  umbrella — ivory  handle — week — fact — 
honour — ask  Job — knows  it." 

"  Lived  for  three  weeks  upon  a  pair  of  boots  and  a  silk  umbrella  with 
an  ivory  handle !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  only  heard  of  such 
things  in  shipwrecks,  or  read  of  them  in  Constable's  Miscellany. 

"  True,"  said  Jingle,  nodding  his  head.  "  Pawnbroker's  shop — dupli- 
cates here — small  sums — mere  nothing — all  rascals." 

"  Oh,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  much  relieved  by  this  explanation ;  "  I 
understand  you.     You  have  pawned  your  wardrobe." 

"  Every  thing — Job's  too — all  shirts  gone — never  mind — saves  wash- 
ing. Nothing  soon — lie  in  bed — starve^ — die — Inquest — little  bone- 
house — poor  prisoner — common  necessaries — hush  it  up — gentlemen  of 
the  jury — warden's  tradesmen — keep  it  snug — natural  death — coroner's 
order — workhouse  funeral — serve  him  right — all  over — drop  the  curtain." 

Jingle  delivered  this  singular  summary  of  his  prospects  in  life  with 
his  accustomed  volubility,  and  with  various  twitches  of  the  countenance 
to  counterfeit  smiles.  Mr.  Pickwick  easily  perceived  that  his  reckless- 
ness was  assumed,  and  looking  him  full,  but  not  unkindly,  in  the  face, 
saw  that  his  eyes  were  moist  with  tears. 

*'  Good  fellow,"  said  Jingle,  pressing  his  hand,  and  turning  his  head 
away.  *'  Ungrateful  dog — boyish  to  cry — can't  help  it — bad  fever — 
weak — ill — hungry.  Deserved  it  all;  but  suffered  much  —  very." 
Wholly  unable  to  keep  up  appearances  any  longer,  and  perhaps  rendered 
worse  by  the  effort  he  had  made,  the  dejected  stroller  sat  down  on  the 
stairs,  and,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  sobbed  like  a  child. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  considerable  emotion, 
"  we'll  see  what  can  be  done  when  I  know  all  about  the  matter.  Here, 
Job ;  where  is  that  fellow  ?  " 

"  Here,  Sir,"  replied  Job,  presenting  himself  on  the  staircase.  We 
have  described  him,  by-the-bye,  as  having  deeply-sunken  eyes  in  the 
best  of  times ;  in  his  present  state  of  want  and  distress,  he  looked  as 
if  those  features  had  gone  out  of  town  altogether. 

**  Here,  Sir,"  said  Job. 

*'  Come  here,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  trying  to  look  stern,  with  four 
large  tears  running  down  his  waistcoat.     "  Take  that,  Sir.'* 

Take  what  ?  In  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  such  language,  it  should 
have  been  a  blow.      As  the  world  runs,  it  ought  to  hare  been  a  sound, 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB.  455 

hearty  cuff;  for  Mr.  Pickwick  had  been' duped,  deceived,  and  wronged 
by  the  destitute  outcast  who  was  now  wholly  in  his  power.  Must  we 
tell  the  truth  ?  It  was  something-  from  Mr.  Pickwick's  waistcoat- 
pocket,  which  chinked  as  it  was  given  into  Job's  hand  :  and  the  g-iving" 
which,  somehow  or  other  imparted  a  sparkle  to  the  eye,  and  a  swelling 
to  the  heart  of  our  excellent  old  friend,  as  he  hurried  away. 

Sara  had  returned  when  Mr.  Pickwick  reached  his  own  room,  and 
was  inspecting  the  arrangements  that  had  been  made  for  bis  comfort, 
with  a  kind  of  grim  satisfaction  which  was  very  pleasant  to  look  upon. 
Having  a  decided  objection  to  his  master's  being  there  at  all,  Mr.  Weller 
appeared   to  consider  it  a  high   moral  duty  not  to  appear  too  much 
pleased  with  anything  that  was  done,  said,  suggested,  or  proposed. 
«  Well,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
«  Well,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 
"  Pretty  comfortable  now,  eh,  Sam  ?  " 

"  Pretty  veil,  Sir,"  responded  Sam,  looking  round  him  in  a  disparaging 
manner. 

"  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Tupman  and  our  other  friends  ?  " 
"  Yes,  I  have  seen  'em,  Sir,  and  they're  a  comin'  to-morrow,  and  wos 
wery  much  surprised  to  hear  they  warn't  to  come  to-day,"  replied  Sam. 
"  You  have  brought  the  things  I  wanted  ?  " 

Mr.    Weller   in  reply  pointed  to  various  packages   which  he  had 
arranged  as  neatly  as  he  could,  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 

"  Very  well,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  a  little  hesitation ; 
**  listen  to  what  I  am  going  to  say,  Sam." 

"  Cert'nly,  Sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  "  fire  avay,  Sir." 
"  I  have  felt  from  the  first,   Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  much 
solemnity,  "  that  this  is  not  the  place  to  bring  a  young  man  to." 
"  Nor  an  old  'un  neither,  Sir,"  observed  Mr.  Weller. 
"  You're  quite  right,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "but  old  men  may 
come  here  through  their  own  heedlessness  and  unsuspicion,  and  young 
men  may  be  brought  here  by  the  selfishness  of  those  they  serve.     It  is 
better  for  those  young  men,  in  every  point  of  view,  that  they  should  not 
remain  here.     Do  you  understand  me,  Sam  ?  " 

"  Vy  no,  Sir,  I  do  not,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  doggedly. 
"  Try,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Veil,  Sir,"  rejoined  Sam,  after  a  short  pause,  "  I  think  I  see  your 
drift ;  and  if  I  do  see  your  drift,  it's  my  'pinion  that  you're  a  comin'  it 
a  great  deal  too  strong,  as  the  mail-coachman  said  to  the  snow  storm, 
ven  it  overtook  him." 

"  I  see  you  comprehend  me,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  **  Independ- 
ently of  my  wish  that  you  should  not  be  idling  about  a  place  like  this 
for  years  to  come,  I  feel  that  for  a  debtor  in  the  Fleet  to  be  attended 
by  his  man-servant  is  a  monstrous  absurdity. — Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
"  for  a  time  you  must  leave  me." 

"  Oh,  for  a  time,  eh,  Sir  ?  "  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  rather  sarcastically. 

"  Yes,  for  the  time  that  I  remain  here,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.    "  Your 

wages  I  shall  continue  to  pay.     Any  one  of  my  three  friends  will  be 

happy  to  take  you,  were  it  only  out  of  respect  to  me.     And  if  I  ever  do 


456  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

leave  this  place,  Sam,"  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  assumed  cheerfulness 
— "  if  I  do,  I  pledge  you  my  word  that  you  shall  return  to  me  instantly." 

"  Now  111  tell  you  wot  it  is,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  grave  and 
solemn  voice,  "  This  here  sort  o'  thing  von't  do  at  all,  so  don't  let's 
hear  no  more  about  it." 

"  I  am  serious,  and  resolved,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  You  air,  air  you,  Sir?  "  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  firmly.  "  Wery good, 
Sir  ;  then  so  am  I." 

Thus  speaking,  Mr.  Weller  fixed  his  hat  on  his  head  with  great  pre- 
cision, and  abruptly  left  the  room. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  calling  after  him,  "  Sam.     Here." 

But  the  long  gallery  ceased  to  re-echo  the  sound  of  footsteps.  Sam 
Weller  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XLH. 

SHOWING    HOW    MR.    SAMUEL    WELLER    GOT    INTO    DIFFICULTIES. 

In  a  lofty  room,  badly  lighted  and  worse  ventilated,  situate  in 
Portugal-street,  Lincoln's  Inn-fields,  there  sit  nearly  the  whole  year 
round,  one,  two,  three,  or  four  gentlemen  in  wigs,  as  the  case  may  be, 
with  little  writing  desks  before  them,  constructed  after  the  fashion  of 
those  used  by  the  judges  of  the  land,  barring  the  French  polish;  a  box 
of  barristers  on  their  right  hand  ;  an  inclosure  of  insolvent  debtors  on 
their  left ;  and  an  inclined  plane  of  most  especially  dirty  faces  in  their 
front.  These  gentlemen  are  the  Commissioners  of  the  Insolvent 
Court,  and  the  place  in  which  they  sit  is  the  Insolvent  Court  itself. 

It  is,  and  has  been,  time  out  of  mind,  the  remarkable  fate  of  this 
Court  to  be  somehow  or  other  held  and  understood  by  the  general 
consent  of  all  the  destitute  shabby-genteel  people  in  London,  as  their 
common  resort,  and  place  of  daily  refuge.  It  is  always  full.  The  steams 
of  beer  and  spirits  perpetually  ascend  to  the  ceiling,  and,  being  con- 
densed by  the  heat,  roll  down  the  walls  like  rain  :  there  are  more  old 
suits  of  clothes  in  it  at  one  time,  than  will  be  offered  for  sale  in  all 
Houndsditch  in  a  twelvemonth  ;  and  more  unwashed  skins  and  grizzly 
heards  than  all  the  pumps  and  shaving-shops  between  Tyburn  and 
Whitechapel  could  render  decent  between  sunrise  and  sunset. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  any  of  these  people  have  the  least 
shadow  of  business  in,  or  the  remotest  connexion  with,  the  place  they 
so  indefatigably  attend.  If  they  had,  it  would  be  no  matter  of  surprise, 
and  the  singularity  of  the  thing  would  cease  at  once.  Some  of  them 
sleep  during  the  greater  part  of  the  sitting  ;  others  carry  small  portable 
dinners  wrapped  in  pocket  handkerchiefs  or  sticking  out  of  their  worn- 
out  pockets,  and  munch  and  listen  with  equal  relish ;  but  no  one  among 
them  was  ever  known  to  have  the   slightest  personal  interest  in  any 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  457 

case  that  was  ever  brou<^ht  forward.  Whatever  they  do,  there  they 
sit  from  the  first  moment  to  the  last.  When  it  is  heavy  rainy  weather, 
they  all  come  in  wet  through  ;  and  at  such  times  the  vapours  of  the 
Court  are  like  those  of  a  fungus-pit. 

A  casual  visitor  might  suppose  this  place  to  be  a  temple  dedicated  to 
the  Genius  of  Seediness.  There  is  not  a  messenger  or  process-server 
attached  to  it,  who  wears  a  coat  that  was  made  for  him  ;  not  a  tolerably 
fresh,  or  wholesome-looking  man  in  the  whole  establishment,  except 
a  little  white-headed  apple-faced  tipstaff,  and  even  he,  like  an  ill-con- 
ditioned cherry  preserved  in  brandy,  seems  to  have  artificially  dried  and 
withered  up  into  a  state  of  preservation,  to  which  he  can  lay  no  natural 
claim.  The  very  barristers'  wigs  are  ill-powdered,  and  their  curls 
lack  crispness. 

But  the  attorneys,  who  sit  at  a  large  bare  table  below  the  Commis- 
sioners, are,  after  all,  the  greatest  curiosities.  The  professional  establish- 
ment of  the  more  opulent  of  these  gentlemen,  consists  of  a  blue  bag 
and  a  boy :  generally  a  youth  of  the  Jewish  persuasion.  They  have  no  fixed 
oflSces,  their  legal  business  being  transacted  in  the  parlours  of  public 
houses,  or  the  yards  of  prisons,  whither  they  repair  in  crowds,  and  canvass 
for  customers  after  the  manner  of  omnibus  cads.  They  are  of  a  greasy 
and  mildewed  appearance ;  and  if  they  can  be  said  to  have  any  vices  at 
all,  perhaps  drinking  and  cheating  are  the  most  conspicuous  among 
them.  Their  residences  are  usually  on  the  outskirts  of  "  the  Rules," 
chiefly  lyin^  within  a  circle  of  one  mile  from  the  obelisk  in  St.  George's 
Fields.  Their  looks  are  not  prepossessing,  and  their  manners  are 
peculiar. 

Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  one  of  this  learned  body,  was  a  fat  flabby  pale 
man,  in  a  surtout  which  looked  green  one  minute,  and  brown  the  next, 
with  a  velvet  collar  of  the  same  cameleon  tints.  His  forehead  was 
narrow,  his  face  wide,  his  head  large,  and  his  nose  all  on  one  side,  as  if 
Nature,  indignant  with  the  propensities  she  observed  in  him  in  his  birth, 
had  given  it  an  angry  tweak  which  it  had  never  recovered.  Being 
short-necked  and  asthmatic,  however,  he  respired  principally  through 
this  feature ;  so,  perhaps,  what  it  wanted  in  ornament  it  made  up  in 
usefulness. 

"I'm  sure  to  bring  him  through  it,"  said  Mr.  Pell. 

"  Are  you  though  ?  "  replied  the  person  to  whom  the  assurance  was 
pledged. 

"  Certain  sure,"  replied  Pell ;  "  but  if  he'd  gone  to  any  irregular 
practitioner,  mind  you,  I  wouldn't  have  answered  for  the  consequences." 

**  Ahl  "  said  the  other,  with  open  mouth. 

"  No,  that  I  wouldn't,"  said  Mr.  Pell ;  and  he  pursed  up  his  lips, 
frowned,  and  shook  his  head  mysteriously. 

Now  the  place  where  this  discourse  occurred,  was  the  public-house 
just  opposite  to  the  Insolvent  Court ;  and  the  person  with  whom  it  was 
held  was  no  other  than  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  who  had  come  there  to 
comfort  and  console  a  friend,  whose  petition  to  be  discharged  under  the 
act  was  to  he  that  day  heard,  and  whose  attorney  he  was  at  that  moment 
consulting. 

"  And  vere  is  George?"  inquired  the  old  gentleman. 


458  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Mr.  Pell  jerked  his  head  in  the  direction  of  a  back  parlour,  whither 
Mr.  Weller  at  once  repairing,  was  immediately  greeted  in  the  warmest 
and  most  flattering  manner  by  some  half-dozen  of  his  professional 
brethren,  in  token  of  their  gratification  at  his  arrival.  The  insolvent 
gentleman,  who  had  contracted  a  speculative  but  imprudent  passion  for 
horsing  long  stages,  which  had  led  to  his  present  embarrassments, 
looked  extremely  well,  and  was  soothing  the  excitement  of  his  feelings 
with  shrimps  and  porter. 

The  salutation  between  Mr.  Weller  and  his  friends  was  strictly  con- 
fined to  the  freemasonry  of  the  craft ;  consisting  of  a  jerking  round  of 
the  right  wrist,  and  a  tossing  of  the  little  finger  into  the  air  at  the  same 
time.  We  once  knew  two  famous  coachmen  (they  are  dead  now,  poor 
fellows)  who  were  twins,  and  between  whom  an  unaffected  and  devoted 
attachment  existed.  They  passed  each  other  on  the  Dover  road  every 
day,  for  twenty-four  years,  never  exchanging  any  other  greeting  than 
this ;  and  yet,  when  one  died,  the  other  pined  away,  and  soon  afterwards 
followed  him  I 

"  Veil,  George,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  taking  off  his  upper  coat, 
and  seating  himself  with  his  accustomed  gravity.  '' How  is  it?  All 
right  behind,  and  full  inside?" 

"  All  right,  old  feller,"  replied  the  embarrassed  gentlemen. 

"Is  the  grey  mare  made  over  to  any  body?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller, 
anxiously, 

George  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Veil,  that's  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  Coach  taken  care  on, also ?  " 

"  Con-signed  in  a  safe  quarter,"  replied  George,  wringing  the  heads 
off  half-a-dozen  shrimps,  and  swallowing  them  without  any  more  ado. 

"  Wery  good,  wery  good,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  Alvays  see  to  the 
drag  ven  you  go  down  hill.  Is  the  vay-bill  all  clear  and  straight 
for'erd?" 

"  The  schedule,  Sir,"  said  Pell,  guessing  at  Mr.  Weller's  mean- 
ing, "  the  schedule  is  as  plain  and  satisfactory  as  pen  and  ink  can 
make  it." 

Mr.  Weller  nodded  in  a  manner  which  bespoke  his  inward  approval 
of  these  arrangements  ;  and  then,  turning  to  Mr.  Pell,  said,  pointing  to 
his  friend  George, — 

"  Ven  do  you  take  his  cloths  off?" 

"  Why,"  replied  Mr.  Pell,  "  he  stands  third  on  the  opposed  list,  and 
I  should  think  it  would  be  his  turn  in  about  half  an  hour.  I  told  my 
clerk  to  come  over  and  tell  us  when  there  was  a  chance." 

Mr.  Weller  surveyed  the  attorney  from  head  to  foot  with  great 
admiration,  and  said  emphatically, — 

"  And  what'U  you  take,  Sir  ?" 

"  Why,  really,"  replied  Mr.  Pell,  "  you're  very .    Upon  my  word 

and  honour,  I'm  not  in  the   habit  of .    It's  so  very  early  in  the 

morning,  that,  actually,  I  am  almost .     Well,  you  may  bring  me 

three  penn'orth  of  rum,  my  dear." 

The  officiating  damsel,  who  had  anticipated  the  order  before  it  was 
given_,  set  the  glass  of  spirits  before  Pell,  and  retired. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  459 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pell,  looking  round  upon  the  company, 
"  Success  to  your  friend.  I  don't  like  to  boast,  gentlemen  ;  it's  not  my 
way ;  but  I  can't  help  saying,  that,  if  your  friend  hadn't  been  fortunate 

enough  to  fall  into  hands  that but  I  won't  say  what  I  was  going  to 

say.  Gentlemen,  ray  service  to  you."  Having  emptied  the  glass  in  a 
twinkling,  Mr.  Pell  smacked  his  lips,  and  looked  complacently  round 
on  the  assembled  coachmen,  who  evidently  regarded  him  as  a  species  of 
divinity. 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  the  legal  authority — "  What  was  I  a-saying, 
gentlemen?" 

"  I  think  you  was  remarkin'  as  you  wouldn't  have  no  objection  to 
another  o'  the  same,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  grave  facetiousness. 

"  Ha,  ha  I"  laughed  Mr.  Pell.  "  Not  bad,  not  bad.  A  professional 
man,  tool     At  this  time  of  the  morning  it  would  be  rather  too  good 

a .     Well,  I  don't  know,  my  dear — you  may  do  that  again,  if  you 

please.     Hem  I  " 

This  last  sound  was  a  solemn  and  dignified  cough,  in  which  Mr.  Pell, 
observing  an  indecent  tendency  to  mirth  in  some  of  his  auditors,  con- 
sidered it  due  to  himself  to  indulge. 

"  The  late  Lord  Chancellor,  gentlemen,  was  very  fond  of  me,"  said 
Mr.  Pell. 

"  And  wery  creditable  in  him,  too,"  interposed  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Hear,  hear,"  assented  Mr.  Pell's  client.    "  Why  shouldn't  he  be?" 

"  Ah — why,  indeed ! "  said  a  very  red-faced  man,  who  had  said  no- 
thing vet,  and  who  looked  extremely  unlikely  to  say  anything  more. 
"Why  shouldn't  he?'* 

A  murmur  of  assent  ran  through  the  company. 

"  I  remember,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pell,  ''dining  with  him  on  one 
occasion ; — there  was  only  us  two,  but  every  thing  as  splendid  as  if 
twenty  people  had  been  expected ;  the  great  seal  on  a  dumb-waiter  at 
his  right  hand,  and  a  man  in  a  bag-wig  and  suit  of  armour  guarding 
the  mace  with  a  drawn  sword  and  silk  stockings,  which  is  perpetually 
done,  gentlemen,  night  and  day;  when  he  said,  'Pell,'  he  said;  'no 
false  delicacy,  Pell.  You're  a  man  of  talent ;  you  can  get  any  body 
through  the  Insolvent  Court,  Pell ;  and  your  country  should  be  proud 
of  you.'  Those  were  his  very  words. — 'My  Lord,'  I  said,  'you  flatter 
me.' — '  Pell,'  he  said,  '  if  I  do,  I'm  damned.'  " 

"  Did  he  say  that?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"  He  did,"  replied  Pell. 

"  Veil,  then,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "  I  say  Parliament  ought  to  ha'  taken 
it  up ;  and  if  he'd  been  a  poor  man,  they  would  ha'  done  it." 

"  But,  my  dear  friend,"  argued  Mr.  Pell,  "  it  was  in  confidence." 

"  In  what?"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  In  confidence." 

"  Oh !  wery  good,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  after  a  little  reflection.  "  If 
he  damned  his-self  in  confidence,  o'  course  that  was  another  thing." 

"  Of  course  it  was,"  said  Mr.  Pell.  "  The  distinction's  obvious,  you 
will  perceive." 

"  Alters  the  case  entirely,"  said  Mr.  Weller.     "  Go  on,  Sir." 


460  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  No ;  I  will  not  go  on,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pell,  in  a  low  and  serious 
tone.  "  You  have  reminded  me.  Sir,  that  this  conversation  was  private 
— private  and  confidential,  gentlemen.  Gentlemen,  I  am  a  professional 
man.  It  may  be  that  I  am  a  good  deal  looked  up  to,  in  my  profession — 
it  may  be  that  I  am  not.  Most  people  know.  I  say  nothing.  Observa- 
tions have  already  been  made,  in  this  room,  injurious  to  the  reputation 
of  my  noble  friend.  You  will  excuse  me,  gentlemen  ;  I  was  imprudent. 
I  feel  that  I  have  no  right  to  mention  this  matter  without  his  concur- 
rence. Thank  you,  Sir;  thank  you."  Thus  delivering  himself,  Mr. 
Pell  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  and,  frowning  grimly  around, 
rattled  three-halfpence  with  terrible  determination. 

This  virtuous  resolution  had  scarcely  been  formed,  when  the  boy  and 
the  blue  bag,  who  were  inseparable  companions,  rushed  violently  into 
the  room,  and  said  (at  least  the  boy  did;  for  the  blue  bag  took  no  part 
in  the  announcement)  that  the  case  was  coming  on  directly.  The  in- 
telligence was  no  sooner  received  than  the  whole  party  hurried  across 
the  street,  and  began  to  fight  their  way  into  Court — a  preparatory  cere- 
mony, which  has  been  calculated  to  occupy,  in  ordinary  cases,  from 
twenty-five  minutes  to  thirty. 

Mr.  Weller  being  stout,  cast  himself  at  once  into  the  crowd,  with  the 
desperate  hope  of  ultimately  turning  up  in  some  place  which  would 
suit  him.  His  success  was  not  quite  equal  to  his  expectations,  for 
having  neglected  to  take  his  hat  off,  it  was  knocked  over  his  eyes  by 
some  unseen  person,  upon  whose  toes  he  had  alighted  with  considerable 
force.  Apparently  this  individual  regretted  his  impetuosity  immediately 
afterwards,  for,  muttering  an  indistinct  exclamation  of  surprise,  he 
dragged  the  old  man  out  into  the  hall,  and,  after  a  violent  struggle, 
released  his  head  and  face. 

*' Samivel !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  when  he  was  thus   enabled  tOj 
behold  his  rescuer. 
Sam  nodded. 

"  You're  a  dutiful  and  affectionate  little  boy,  you  are,  ain't  you?" 
said  Mr.  Weller,  "  to  come  a  bonnetin'  your  father  in  his  old 
age?" 

"  How  should  I  know  who  you  wos?"  responded  the  son.  "Doi 
you  s'pose  I  wos  to  tell  you  by  the  weight  o'  your  foot?" 

"  Veil,  that's  wery  true,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  mollified  ati 
once  ;  "but  wot  are  you  a  doin'  on  here  ?  Your  gov'nor  can't  do  no  good 
here,  Sammy.      They  von't   pass   that    werdict ;  they    von't  pass  it, 
Sammy."     And  Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head  with  legal  solemnity. 

"  Wot  a  perwerse  old  file  it  is !"  exclaimed  Sam,  "  alvays  a  goin'  onj 
about  werdicts  and  alley  bis,  and  that.  Who  said  anything  about  thej 
werdict  ?  " 

Mr.  Weller  made  no  reply,  but  once  more  shook  his  head  mostl 
learnedly. 

"  Leave   off  rattlin'  that   'ere  nob   o'  yourn,  if  you  don't  want  it  toj 
come  off  the  springs  altogether,"  said  Sam  impatiently,  "  and  behave 
reasonable.     I  vent  all  the  vay  down  to  the  Markis  o'  Granby  arter  yoi 
last  night." 


1 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  461 

*'  Did  you  see  the  Marchionness  o'  Granby,  Sammy  ?  "  inquired  Mr. 
Weller,  with  a  sigh. 

*'  Yes,  I  did,"  replied  Sam. 

"  How  wos  the  dear  creetur  lookin'  ?  " 

*'  Wery  queer,"  said  Sam.  "  I  think  she's  a  injurin'  herself  gradivally 
vith  too  much  o'  that  'ere  pine-apple  rum,  and  other  strong  medicines 
o*  the  same  natur." 

"  You  don't  mean  that,  Sammy  ?"  said  the  senior,  earnestly. 

*'  I  do,  indeed,"  replied  the  junior. 

Mr.  Weller  seized  his  son's  hand,  clasped  it,  and  let  it  fall.  There 
was  an  expression  on  his  countenance  in  doing  so — not  of  dismay  or 
apprehension,  but  partaking  more  of  the  sweet  and  gentle  character  of 
hope.  A  gleam  of  resignation,  and  even  of  cheerfulness,  passed  over 
his  face  too,  as  he  slowly  said — "  I  ain't  quite  certain,  Sammy ;  I 
wouldn't  like  to  say  I  wos  altogether  positive,  in  case  of  any  subsekent 
disappintment,  but  I  rayther  think,  ray  boy — I  rayther  think  that  the 
shepherd's  got  the  liver  complaint  !" 

"  Does  he  look  bad  ?  "  inquired  Sam. 

"  He's  uncommon  pale,"  replied  his  father,  "  'cept  about  the  nose, 
vich  is  redder  than  ever.  His  appetite  is  wery  so-so,  but  he  imbibes 
wunderful." 

Some  thoughts  of  the  rum  appeared  to  obtrude  themselves  on  Mr. 
Weller's  mind  as  he  said  this,  for  he  looked  gloomy  and  thoughtful ; 
but  very  shortly  recovered,  as  was  testified  by  a  perfect  alphabet  of 
winks,  in  which  he  was  only  wont  to  indulge  when  particularly  pleased. 

"Veil,  now,"  said  Sam,  "about  my  aifair.  Just  open  them  ears 
o'  yourn,  and  don't  say  nothin'  till  I've  done."  With  this  brief  preface, 
Sam  related,  as  succinctly  as  he  could,  the  last  memorable  conversation 
he  had  had  with  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Stop  there  by  himself,  poor  creetur!"  exclaimed  the  elder  Mr. 
Weller,  "  without  nobody  to  take  his  part !  It  can't  be  done,  Samivel, 
it  can't  be  done." 

*'  O'  course  it  can't,"  asserted  Sam  ;  "  I  know'd  that  afore  I  came." 

*'  Vy,  they'll  eat  him  up  alive,  Sammy,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller. 

Sam  nodded  his  concurrence  in  the  opinion. 

"  He  goes  in  rayther  raw,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller  metaphorically, 
"  and  he'll  come  out  done  so  ex-ceedin'  brown,  that  his  most  formiliar 
friends  won't  know  him.     Roast  pigeon 's  nothin'  to  it,  Sammy." 

Again  Sam  Weller  nodded. 

"  It  oughtn't  to  be,  Samivel,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  gravely. 

"  It  mustn't  be,"  said  Sam. 

«  Cert'nly  not,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Veil  now,"  said  Sam,  "  you've  been  a  prophecyin'  avay  wery  fine, 
like  a  red-faced  Nixon,  as  the  sixpenny  books  gives  picters  on." 

"Who  wos  he,  Sammy  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Never  mind  who  he  was,"  retorted  Sam ;  "  he  warn't  a  coachman, 
that's  enough  for  you." 

"  I  know'd  a  ostler  o'  that  name,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  musing. 

"  It  warn't  him,"  said  Sam.     "  This  here  gen'lm'n  was  a  prophet." 


^ 


462  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Wot's  a  prophet  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  looking  sternly  on  his  son. 

"  Vy,  a  man  as  tells  what's  a  goin'  to  happen,"  replied  Sana. 

"  I  wish  I'd  know'd  him,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  '*  P'raps  he 
might  ha'  throw'd  a  small  light  on  that  'ere  liver  complaint  as  we  wos  a 
speakin'  on  just  now.  Hows'ever,  if  he's  dead,  and  ain't  left  the  bisness 
to  nobody,  there's  an  end  on  it.  Go  on,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
with  a  sigh. 

"  Veil,"  said  Sam,  *'  you're  been  a  prophecyin'  avay  about  wot'll 
happen  to  the  gov'nor  if  he's  left  alone.  Don't  you  see  any  vay  o' 
takin'  care  on  him  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  reflective  visage. 

*'  No  vay  at  all  ?  "  inquired  Sam. 

**  No  vay,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  *' unless" — and  a  gleam  of  intelligence 
lighted  up  his  countenance  as  he  sunk  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  and  applied 
his  mouth  to  the  ear  of  his  offspring—*"  unless  it  is  getting  him  out  in 
a  turn-up  bedstead,  unbeknown  to  the  turnkeys,  Sammy,  or  dressin'  him 
up  like  an  old  'ooman  vith  a  green  wail." 

Sam  Weller  received  both  of  these  suggestions  with  unexpected  con- 
tempt, and  again  propounded  his  question. 

"  No,"  said  the  old  gentleman ;  "  if  he  von't  let  you  stop  there,  I  see 
no  vay  at  all.     Its  no  thoroughfare,  Sammy — no  thoroughfare." 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  tell  you  wot  it  is,"  said  Sam,  "  I'll  trouble  you  for 
the  loan  of  five-and-tventy  pound." 

<'  Wot  good  'uU  that  do  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Never  mind,"  replied  Sam.  "  P'raps  you  may  ask  for  it  five  minits 
artervards  ;  p'raps  I  may  say  I  von't  pay,  and  cut  up  rough.  You  von't 
think  o'  arrestin'  your  own  son  for  the  money,  and  sendin'  him  off  to  the 
Fleet,  will  you,  you  unnat'ral  wagabond  ?  " 

At  this  reply  of  Sam's,  the  father  and  son  exchanged  a  complete  code 
of  sly  telegraphic  nods  and  gestures,  after  which,  the  elder  Mr.  Weller 
sat  himself  down  on  a  stone  step,  and  laughed  till  he  was  purple. 

"  Wot  a  old  image  it  is  !  "  exclaimed  Sam,  indignant  at  this  loss  of 
time.  "  What  are  you  a  settin*  down  there  for,  con-wertin'  your  face 
into  a  street-door  knocker,  ven  there's  so  much  to  be  done.  Vere's  the 
money  ?  " 

"  In  the^  boot,  Sammy,  in  the  boot,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  composing 
his  features.     "  Hold  my  hat,  Sammy." 

Having  divested  himself  of  this  incumbrance,  Mr.  Weller  gave  his 
body  a  sudden  wrench  to  one  side,  and,  by  a  dexterous  twist,  contrived 
to  get  his  right  hand  into  a  most  capacious  pocket,  from  whence,  after  a 
great  deal  of  panting  and  exertion,  he  extricated  a  pocket-book  of  the 
large  octavo  size,  fastened  by  a  huge  leather  strap.  From  thence  he 
drew  forth  a  couple  of  whip-lashes,  three  or  four  buckles,  a  little  sample- 
bag  of  corn,  and  finally  a  small  roll  of  very  dirty  bank-notes,  from  which 
he  selected  the  required  amount,  which  he  handed  over  to  Sam. 

*'  And  now,  Sammy,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  when  the  whip-lashes, 
and  the  buckles,  and  the  sample,  had  been  all  put  back,  and  the  book 
once  more  deposited  at  the  bottom  of  the  same  pocket,  "  Now,  Sammy, 
I  know  a  gen'im'n  here,  as  '11  do  the  rest  o'  the  bisness  for  us,  in  no  time 


THE  PICKWICK    CLUB.  463 

— a  limb  o*  the  law,  Sammy,  as  has  got  brains  like  the  frogs,  dispersed 
all  over  his  body,  and  reachin'  to  the  wery  tips  of  his  fingers  ;  a  friend 
of  the  Lord  Chancellorship's,  Sammy,  who'd  only  have  to  tell  him  what 
he  wanted,  and  he'd  lock  you  up  for  life^  if  that  wos  all." 

**  I  say,"  said  Sam,  "  none  o'  that." 

**  None  o'  wot  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Vy,  none  o'  them  unconstitootional  ways  o'  doin'  it,"  retorted  Sam. 
"  The  have-his-carcase,  next  to  the  perpetual  motion,  is  vun  o'  the 
blessedest  things  as  wos  ever  made.  I've  read  that  'ere  in  the  news- 
papers wery  of'en." 

"  Well,  wot's  that  got  to  do  vith  it  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"Just  this  here,"  said  Sam,  **  that  I'll  patronise  the  inwention,  and 
go  in,  that  vay.  No  visperin's  to  the  Chancellorship — I  don't  like  the 
notion.  It  mayn't  be  altogether  safe,  vith  reference  to  the  gettin'  out 
agin." 

Deferring  to  his  son's  feeling  upon  this  point,  Mr.  Weller  at  once 
sought  the  erudite  Solomon  Pell,  and  acquainted  him  with  his  desire  to 
issue  a  writ  instantly  for  the  sum  of  twenty-five  pounds,  and  costs  of 
process,  to  be  executed  without  delay  upon  the  body  of  one  Samuel 
Weller ;  the  charges  thereby  incurred  to  be  paid  in  advance  to  Solomon 
Pell. 

The  attorney  was  in  high  glee,  for  the  embarrassed  coach-horser  was 
ordered  to  be  discharged  forthwith.  He  highly  approved  of  Sam's 
attachment  to  his  master ;  declared  that  it  strongly  reminded  him  of  his 
own  feelings  of  devotion  to  his  friend,  the  Chancellor ;  and  at  once  led 
the  elder  Mr.  Weller  down  to  the  Temple,  to  swear  the  affidavit  of  debt, 
which  the  boy,  with  the  assistance  of  the  blue  bag,  had  drawn  up  on 
the  spot. 

Meanwhile  Sam,  having  been  formally  introduced  to  the  white- 
washed gentleman  and  his  friends,  as  the  offspring  of  Mr.  Weller, 
of  the  Belle  Sauvage,  was  treated  with  marked  distinction,  and  invited 
to  regale  himself  with  them  in  honour  of  the  occasion — an  invitation 
which  he  was  by  no  means  backward  in  accepting. 

The  mirth  of  gentlemen  of  this  class  is  of  a  grave  and  quiet  character 
usually ;  but  the  present  instance  was  one  of  peculiar  festivity,  and  they 
relaxed  in  proportion.  After  some  rather  tumultuous  toasting  of  the 
Chief  Commissioner  and  Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  who  had  that  day  displayed 
such  transcendant  abilities,  a  mottled-faced  gentleman  in  a  blue  shawl 
proposed  that  somebody  should  sing  a  song.  The  obvious  suggestion 
was,  that  the  mottled-faced  gentleman,  being  anxious  for  a  song,  should 
sing  it  himself;  but  this  the  mottled-faced  gentleman  sturdily,  and 
somewhat  offensively,  declined  to  do  ;  upon  which,  as  is  not  unusual  in 
such  cases,  a  rather  angry  colloquy  ensued. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  coach-horser,  "  rather  than  disturb  the  har- 
mony of  this  delightful  occasion,  perhaps  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  will  oblige 
the  company." 

"  Raly,  gentlemen,"  said  Sam,  "  I'm  not  wery  much  in  the  habit  o' 
singin'  vithout  the  instrument ;  but  any  thin'  for  a  quiet  life,  as  the 
man  said  ven  he  took  the  sitivation  at  the  light-house." 


464  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

With  this  prelude,  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  burst  at  once  into  the  follow- 
ing wild  and  beautiful  legend,  which,  under  the  impression  that  it  is 
not  generally  known,  we  take  the  liberty  of  quoting.  We  would  beg 
to  call  particular  attention  to  the  monosyllable  at  the  end  of  the  second 
and  fourth  lines,  which  not  only  enables  the  singer  to  take  breath  at 
those  points,  but  greatly  assists  the  metre. 

5Somanct. 
I. 

Bold  Turpin  vunce,  on  Hounslow  Heath, 

His  bold  mare  Bess  bestrode — er  ; 

Ven  there  he  see'd  the  Bishop's  coach 

A-comin'  along  the  road — er. 

So  he  gallops  close  to  the  orse's  legs, 

And  he  claps  his  head  vithin; 

And  the  Bishop  says,  "  Sure  as  eggs  is  eggs. 

This  here's  the  bold  Turpin!" 

(Chorus.)     And  the  Bishop  says,  "  Sure  as  eggs  is  eggs. 
This  here's  the  bold  Turpin  ! " 

ir. 

Says  Turpin,  "  You  shall  eat  your  words, 
With  a  sarse  of  leaden  bwl — let ;" 
So  he  puts  a  pistol  to  his  mouth, 
And  he  fires  it  down  his  gul — let.  i 
The  coachman,  he  not  likin'  the  job. 
Set  off  at  a  full  gal-lop, 
But  Dick  put  a  couple  of  balls  in  his  nob, 
And  perwailed  on  him  to  stop. 

(Chorus  sarcastically.)  But  Dick  put  a  couple  of  halls  in  his  nob, 

A7id perwailed  on  him  to  stop. 

"  I  maintain  that  that  'ere  song's  personal  to  the  cloth,"said  the  mottled- 
faced  gentleman,  interrupting  it  at  this  point.  "  I  demand  the  name  o' 
that  coachman." 

'^  Nobody  know'd,"  replied  Sam.  "  He  hadn't  got  his  card  in  his 
pocket," 

"  I  object  to  the  introduction  o'  politics,"  said  the  mottled-faced  gen- 
tleman. *'  I  submit  that,  in  the  present  company,  that  'ere  song's  poli- 
tical ;  and,  wot's  much  the  same,  that  it  ain't  true.  I  say  that  that 
coachman  did  not  run  avay ;  but  that  he  died  game — game  as  pheasants  ; 
and  I  won't  hear  nothin'  said  to  the  contrairey." 

As  the  mottled-faced  gentleman  spoke  with  great  energy  and  deter- 
mination, and  as  the  opinions  of  the  company  seemed  divided  on  the  sub- 
ject, it  threatened  to  give  rise  to  fresh  altercation,  when  Mr,  Weller 
and  Mr.  Pell  most  opportunely  arrived. 

"  All  right,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  The  oflScer  will  be  here  at  four  o'clock,"  said  Mr.  Pell.  ''  I  suppose 
you  won't  run  away  meanwhile — eh  ?     Ha !  ha  I" 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  465 

"  Fraps  my  cruel  pa  'uU  relent  afore  that,"  replied  Sara,  with  a  broad 
grin. 

"  Not  I,"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Do,"  said  Sara. 

"  Not  on  no  account,"  replied  the  inexorable  creditor. 

"I'll  give  bills  for  the  amount  at  sixpence  a  month,"  said  Sam. 

"  1  won't  take  'em,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  very  good,  very  good,"  said  Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  who 
was  making  out  his  little  bill  of  costs  ;  "  a  very  amusing  incident  indeed. 
Benjamin,  copy  that,"  and  Mr.  Pell  smiled  again,  as  he  called  Mr. 
Weller's  attention  to  the  amount. 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,"  said  the  professional  gentleman,  taking  up 
another  of  the  greasy  notes  as  Mr.  Weller  took  it  from  the  pocket-book. 
"Three  ten  and  one  ten  is  five.  Much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Weller. 
Your  son  is  a  most  deserving  young  man,  very  much  so  indeed.  Sir. 
It's  a  very  pleasant  trait  in  a  young  man's  character — very  much  so," 
added  Mr.  Pell,  smiling  smoothly  round,  as  he  buttoned  up  the  money. 

"  Wot  a  game  it  is!"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  chuckle. 
"  A  reg'lar  prodigy  son  !" 

*'  Prodigal — prodigal  son.  Sir,"  suggested  Mr.  Pell,  mildly. 

"  Never  mind,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  dignity.  "  I  know  wot's 
o'clock,  Sir.     Yen  I  don't,  I'll  ask  you,  Sir." 

By  the  time  the  ofScer  arrived,  Sam  had  made  himself  so  extremely 
popular,  that  the  congregated  gentlemen  determined  to  see  hira  to  pri- 
son in  a  body.  So  off  they  set ;  the  plaintiff  and  defendant  walking 
arm-in-arm,  the  officer  in  front,  and  eight  stout  coachmen  bringing  up 
the  rear.  At  Sergeants'  Inn  Coffee-house  the  whole  party  halted  to 
refresh  ;  and,  the  legal  arrangements  being  completed,  the  procession 
moved  on  again. 

Some  little  commotion  was  occasioned  in  Fleet  Street  by  the  plea- 
santry of  the  eight  gentlemen  in  the  flank,  who  persevered  in  walking 
four  abreast ;  and  it  was  also  found  necessary  to  leave  the  mottled-faced 
gentleman  behind,  to  fight  a  ticket-porter,  it  being  arranged  that  his 
friends  should  call  for  him  as  they  came  back.  Nothing  but  these 
little  incidents  occurred  on  the  way.  When  they  reached  the  gate  of 
the  Fleet,  the  cavalcade,  taking  the  time  from  the  plaintiff,  gave  three 
tremendous  cheers  for  the  defendant ;  and,  after  having  shaken  hands 
all  round,  left  him. 

Sam  having  been  formally  delivered  into  the  warden's  custody,  to 
the  intense  astonishment  of  Roker,  and  to  the  evident  emotion  of  even 
the  phlegmatic  Neddy,  passed  at  once  into  the  prison,  walked  straight 
to  his  master's  room,  and  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Corae  in,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Sam  appeared,  pulled  off  his  hat,  and  smiled. 

"  Ah,  Sam,  my  good  lad,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  evidently  delighted 
to  see  his  humble  friend  again;  "I  had  no  intention  of  hurting  your 
feelings  yesterday,  my  faithful  fellow,  by  what  I  said.  Put  down  your 
hat,  Sam,  and  let  me  explain  my  meaning  a  little  more  at  length." 

"  Won't  presently  do.  Sir?"  inquired  Sara. 


466  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "but  why  not  now?" 

*'  I'd  rayther  not  now,  Sir,"  rejoined  Sam. 

"Why?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"'Cause,"  said  Sam,  hesitating-. 

"  Because  of  what?"  inquired  Mr. Pickwick,  alarmed  at  his  follower's 
manner.     "  Speak  out,  Sam." 

"  'Cause,"  rejoined  Sam ;  "  'cause  I've  got  a  little  bisness  as  I  want 
to  do." 

"  What  business  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  surprised  at  Sam's  con- 
fused manner. 

"  Nothin'  partickler,  Sir,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Oh,  if  it's  nothing  particular,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile, 
*•'  you  can  speak  with  me  first." 

"  I  think  I'd  better  see  arter  it  at  once,"  said  Sara,  still  hesitating. 

Mr.  Pickwick  looked  amazed,  but  said  nothing. 

"  The  fact  is "  said  Sam,  stopping  short. 

"  Well ! "  said  Mr.  Pickwick.    "  Speak  out,  Sam." 

"  Why,  the  fact  is,"  said  Sam,  with  a  desperate  effort,  "  P'raps  I'd 
better  see  arter  my  bed  afore  I  do  anythin'  else." 

"  Your  bed  I "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  my  bed.  Sir,"  replied  Sara.  "  I'm  a  prisoner.  I  was  arrested 
this  here  wery  arternoon  for  debt." 

"  You  arrested  for  debt ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  sinking  into  a 
chair. 

"  Yes,  for  debt.  Sir,"  replied  Sam ;  "  and  the  man  as  put  me  in  'uli 
never  let  me  out,  till  you  go  yourself." 

"  Bless  my  heart  and  soul ! "  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  W^hat  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

"  Wot  I  say,  Sir,"  rejoined  Sam.  "  If  it's  forty  year  to  come,  I 
shall  be  a  pris'ner,  and  I'm  very  glad  on  it ;  and  if  it  had  been  New- 
gate, it  vould  ha'  been  just  the  same.  Now  the  murder's  out,  and, 
damme,  there's  an  end  on  it." 

With  these  words,  which  he  repeated  with  great  emphasis  and  vio- 
lence, Sam  V/eller  dashed  his  hat  upon  the  ground,  in  a  most  unusual 
state  of  excitement;  and  then,  folding  his  arms,  looked  firmly  and 
fixedly  in  his  master's  face. 


1 


THE    PICKWICK  CLUB.  467 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

TI^EATS     OF     DIVERS     LITTLE     MATTERS    WHICH     OCCURRED    IN  THE 

FLEET,     AND     OF     MR.    WINKLE's     MYSTERIOUS      BEHAVIOUR;  AND 

SHOWS      HOW      THE      POOR     CHANCERY     PRISONER     OBTAINED  HIS 
RELEASE     AT    LAST. 

Mr.  Pickwick  felt  a  great  deal  too  much  touched  by  the  warmth  of 
Sam's  attachment,  to  be  able  to  exhibit  any  manifestation  of  anger  or 
displeasure  at  the  precipitate  course  he  had  adopted,  in  voluntarily 
consigning  himself  to  a  'debtors'  prison  for  an  indefinite  period.  The 
only  point  on  which  he  persevered  in  demanding  any  explanation,  was, 
the  name  of  Sam's  detaining  creditor,  but  this  Mr.  Weller  as  perse- 
veringly  withheld. 

"It  ain't  o'  no  use.  Sir,"  said  Sam,  again  and  again.  "He's  a 
ma-licious,  bad-disposed,  vorldly-minded,  spiteful,  windictive  creetur, 
with  a  hard  heart  as  there  ain't  no  soft'nin,  as  the  wirtuous  clergyman 
remarked  of  the  old  gen'lm'n  with  the  dropsy,  ven  he  said,  that 
upon  the  whole  he  thought  he'd  rayther  leave  his  property  to  his  vife 
than  build  a  chapel  vith  it." 

**But  consider,  Sam,"  Mr.  Pickwick  remonstrated,  "  the  sum  is  so 
small  that  it  can  very  easily  be  paid,  and  having  made  up  my  mind  that 
you  shall  stop  with  me,  you  should  recollect  how  much  more  useful  you 
would  be,  if  you  could  go  outside  the  walls." 

"Wery  much  obliged  to  you.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller  gravely; 
"but  I'd  rayther  not." 

"  Rather  not  do  what,  Sam  ?  " 

"  Vy,  Sir,  I'd  rayther  not  let  myself  down  to  ask  a  favor  o'  this  here 
unremorseful  enemy." 

"  But  it  is  no  favour  asking  him  to  take  the  money,  Sam,"  reasoned 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Beg  your  pardon,  Sir/'  rejoined  Sam;  *'but  it  'ud  be  a  wery 
great  favor  to  pay  it,  and  he  don't  deserve  none;  that's  vere  it  is, 
Sir." 

Here  Mr.  Pickwick,  rubbing  his  nose  with  an  air  of  some  vexa- 
tion, Mr.  WeUer  thought  it  prudent  to  change  the  theme  of  the  dis- 
course. 

"  I  takes  my  determination  on  principle.  Sir,"  remarked  Sam, 
"and  you  takes  yours  on  the  same  ground;  vich  puts  me  in  mind 
o'  the  man  as  killed  his-self  on  principle,  vich  o'  course  you've  heerd  on. 
Sir."  Mr.  Weller  paused  when  he  arrived  at  this  point,  and  cast  a 
comical  look  at  his  master  out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes. 

"  There  is  no  of  course  in  the  case,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  gra- 

L    L 


468  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

dually  breaking  into  a  smile,  in  spite  of  the  uneasiness  which  Sam's 
obstinacy  had  given  him.  "  The  fame  of  the  gentleman  in  question 
never  reached  my  ears." 

"No,  Sir!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller.  ''You  astonish  me.  Sir;  he 
wos  a  clerk  in  a  gov'ment  office,  Sir." 

"  Was  he?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Yes,  he  wos.  Sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller;  ''and  a  wery  pleasant 
gen'lm'n  too — one  o'  the  percise  and  tidy  sort,  as  puts  their  feet  in 
little  India-rubber  fire-buckets  ven  its  vet  veather,  and  never  has  no 
other  bosom  friends  but  hare-skins ;  he  saved  up  his  money  on  princi- 
ple, vore  a  clean  shirt  ev'ry  day  on  principle,  never  spoke  to  none 
of  his  relations  on  principle,  'fear  they  shou'd  want  to  borrow  money 
of  him ;  and  wos  altogether,  in  fact,  an  uncommon  agreeable  cha- 
racter. He  had  his  hair  cut  on  principle  vunce  a  fortnight,  and  con- 
tracted for  his  clothes  on  the  economic  principle — three  suits  a  year, 
and  send  back  the  old  vuns.  Being  a  wery  reg'lar  gen'lm'n  he  din'd 
ev'ry  day  at  the  same  place,  vere  it  wos  one  and  ninepence  to  cut  oflf  the 
joint;  and  a  wery  good  one  and  ninepence  worth  he  used  to  cut,  as  the 
landlord  often  said,  vith  the  tears  a  tricklin*  down  his  face,  let  alone 
the  vay  he  used  to  poke  the  fire  in  the  vinter  time,  vich  wos  a  dead  loss 
o'  four-pence  ha'penny  a  day,  to  say  nothin'  at  all  o'  the  aggrawation 
o'  seein'  him  do  it.  So  uncommon  grand  vith  it  too!  'Post  arter  the 
next  gen'lm'n/  he  sings  out  ev'ry  day  ven  he  comes  in.  '  See  arter  the 
Times,  Thomas ;  let  me  look  at  the  Mornin'  Herald,  ven  it's  out  o* 
hand  ;  don't  forgot  to  bespeak  the  Chronicle;  and  just  bring  the  'Tizer 
vill  you :'  and  then  he'd  set  vith  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  clock,  and  rush 
out  just  a  quarter  of  a  minit  afore  the  time  to  vaylay  the  boy  as  wos  a 
comin'  in  vith  the  evenin'  paper,  vich  he'd  read  vith  sich  intense  inte- 
rest and  persewerance,  as  vorked  the  other  customers  up  to  the  wery 
confines  o'  desperation  and  insanity,  'specially  one  i-rascible  old  gen'l- 
m'n as  the  vaiter  wos  alvays  obliged  to  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  at  sich 
times,  'fear  he  should  be  tempted  to  commit  some  rash  act  vith  the 
carving  knife.  Veil,  Sir,  here  he'd  stop,  occupyin'  the  best  place  for 
three  hours,  and  never  takin'  nothin'  arter  his  dinner  but  sleep,  and 
then  he'd  go  avay  to  a  coffeehouse  a  few  streets  off,  and  have  a  small 
pot  o'  coffee  and  four  crumpets,  arter  vich  he'd  valk  home  to  Kensington 
and  go  to  bed.  One  night  he  wos  took  very  ill;  sends  for  the  doctor; 
doctor  comes  in  a  green  fly,  vith  a  kind  o'  Robinson  Crusoe  set  o'  steps 
as  he  could  let  down  ven  he  got  out,  and  pull  up  arter  him  ven  he  got 
in,  to  perwent  the  necessity  o'  the  coachman's  gettin'  down,  and  thereby 
undeceivin'  the  public  by  lettin'  'em  see  that  it  wos  only  a  livery  coat 
he'd  got  on,  and  not  the  trousers  to  match.  '  Wot's  the  matter.?' 
says  the  doctor.  '  Wery  ill,'  says  the  patient.  '  Wot  have  you  been 
a  eatin'  of?'  says  the  doctor.  'Roast  weal,'  says  the  patient.  '  Wot's 
the  last  thing  you  dewoured  ? '  says  the  doctor.  '  Crumpets,'  says  the 
patient.  '  That's  it,'  says  the  doctor.  '  I  '11  send  you  a  box  of  pills 
directly,  and  don't  you  never  take  no  more  o'  them,'  he  says.  '  No 
more  o'  wot  ? '  says  the  patient — '  Pills ! '  *  No ;  crumpets,'  says  the 
doctor.  «  Wy  ? '  says  the  patient,  starting  up  in  bed ;  '  I've  eat  four 
crumpets  ev'ry  night  for  fifteen  year  on  principle.'     '  Veil,  then,  you'd 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  469 

better  leave  'em  off  on  principle,'  says  the  doctor.  '  Crumpets  is 
wholesome,  Sir,'  says  the  patient.  '  Crumpets  is  not  wholesome,  Sir,' 
says  the  doctor,  wery  fiercely.  *  But  they're  so  cheap,'says  the  patient, 
comin'  down  a  little,  '  and  so  wery  fiUin'  at  the  price.'  '  They'd  be 
dear  to  you  at  any  price;  dear  if  you  was  paid  to  eat  'em,'  says  the 
doctor.  '  Four  crumpets  a  night,'  he  says,  '  vill  do  your  bisness  in  six 
months!'  The  patient  looks  him  full  in  the  face,  and  turns  it  over 
in  his  mind  for  a  long  time,  and  at  last  he  says,  '  Are  you  sure  o' 
that  'ere.  Sir  ? '  *  I'll  stake  my  professional  reputation  on  it,'  says  the 
doctor.  '  How  many  crumpets  at  a  sittin'  do  you  think  'ud  kill  me  off 
at  once  ? '  says  the  patient.  '  I  don't  know,'  says  the  doctor.  '  Do  you 
think  half  a  crown's  vurth  'ud  do  it,'  says  the  patient.  *  I  think  it 
might,'  says  the  doctor.  '  Three  shillin's  vurth  'ud  be  sure  to  do  it,  I 
s'pose?'  says  the  patient.  'Certainly,'  says  the  doctor.  *  Wery  good,' 
says  the  patient ;  'good  night.'  Next  mornin' he  gets  up,  has  afire 
lit,  orders  in  three  shillins'  vurth  o'  crumpets,  toasts  'em  all,  eats 
'em  all,  and  blows  his  brains  out." 

"  What  did  he  do  that  for  ? "  enquired  IMr.  Pickwick  abruptly ;  for 
he  was  considerably  startled  by  this  tragical  termination  of  the  nar- 
rative. 

''  Wot  did  he  do  it  for.  Sir !  "  reiterated  Sam.  '<  Wy,  in  support  of 
his  great  principle  that  crumpets  wos  wholesome,  and  to  show  that 
he  vouldn't  be  put  out  of  his  vay  for  nobody ! " 

With  such  like  shiftings  and  chancrings  of  the  discourse,  did  Mr. 
Weller  meet  his  master's  questioning  upon  the  night  of  his  taking 
up  his  residence  in  the  Fleet :  finding  all  gentle  remonstrance  use- 
less, IMr.  Pickwick  at  length  yielded  a  reluctant  consent  to  his  taking 
lodgings  by  the  week,  of  a  bald-headed  cobbler,  who  rented  a  small 
slip  room  in  one  of  the  upper  galleries.  To  this  humble  apartment 
jMr.  Weller  moved  a  mattrass  and  bedding,  which  he  hired  of  Mr. 
Roker ;  and  by  the  time  he  lay  down  upon  it  at  night  was  as  much  at 
home  as  if  he  had  been  bred  in  the  prison,  and  his  whole  familv  had 
vegetated  therein  for  three  generations. 

"  Do  you  alvays  smoke  arter  you  goes  to  bed,  old  cock.'*"  enquired 
Mr.  Weller  of  his  landlord,  when  they  had  both  retired  for  the  night. 

*'  Yes,  1  does,  young  bantam,"  replied  the  cobbler. 

"  Vill  you  allow  me  to  en-quire  vy  you  make  up  your  bed  under  that 
'ere  deal  table?"  said  Sam. 

"  'Cause  I  was  alvays  used  to  a  four-poster  afore  I  came  here, 
and  I  find  the  legs  of  the  table  answer  just  as  well,"  replied  the 
cobbler. 

''  You're  a  character.   Sir,"  said  Sam. 

"  I  haven't  got  anything  of  the  kind  belonging  to  me/'  rejoined  the 
cobbler,  shaking  his  head;  "  and  if  you  want  to  meet  with  a  good  one, 
I'm  afraid  you'll  find  some  difficulty  in  suiting  yourself  at  this  register 
office." 

The  above  short  dialogue  took  place  as  Mr.  Weller  lay  extended  on 
his  mattrass  at  one  end  of  the  room,  and  the  cobbler  on  his  at  the  other; 
tlie  apartment  being  illumined  by  the  light  of  a  rush  candle  and  the 

L    L    2 


470  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

cobbler's  pipe,  which  was  glowing  below  the  table  like  a  red-hot  coal. 
The  conversation,  brief  as  it  was,  predisposed  Mr.  Weller  strongly  in 
his  landlord's  favour,  and  raising  himself  on  his  elbow  he  took  a  more 
lengthened  survey  of  his  appearance  than  he  had  yet  had  either  time 
or  inclination  to  make. 

He  was  a  sallow  man — all  cobblers  are ;  and  had  a  strong  bristly 
beard — all  cobblers  have ;  his  face  was  a  queer,  good-tempered,  crooked 
featured  piece  of  workmanship,  ornamented  with  a  couple  of  eyes  that 
must  have  worn  a  very  joyous  expression  at  one  time,  for  they  sparkled 
yet.  The  man  was  sixty  by  years,  and  Heaven  knows  how  old  by  im- 
prisonment, so  that  his  having  any  look  approaching  to  mirth  or  con- 
tentment was  singular  enough.  He  was  a  little  man,  and  being  half 
doubled  up  as  he  lay  in  bed,  looked  about  as  long  as  he  ought  to  have 
been  without  his  legs.  He  had  got  a  great  red  pipe  in  his  mouth, 
and  was  smoking  and  staring  at  the  rushlight  in  a  state  of  enviable 
placidity. 

"  Have  you  been  here  long?"  enquired  Sam,  breaking  the  silence 
which  had  lasted  for  some  time. 

**  Twelve  years,"  replied  the  cobbler,  biting  the  end  of  his  pipe  as  he 
spoke. 

"Contempt?"  enquired  Sam. 

The  cobbler  nodded. 

"  Veil,  then,"  said  Sam,  with  some  sternness,  "wot  do  you  persevere 
in  bein'  obstinit  for,  vastin'  your  precious  life  avay  in  this  here  magni- 
fied pound?  Vy  don't  you  give  in,  and  tell  the  Chancellorship  that 
you're  wery  sorry  for  makin'  his  court  contemptible,  and  you  won't  do 
so  no  more  ?  '* 

The  cobbler  put  his  pipe  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth  while  he  smiled, 
and  then  brought  it  back  to  its  old  place  again,  but  said  nothing. 

*' Vy  don't  you?"  said  Sam,  urging  his  question  strenuously. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  cobbler, ''  you  don't  quite  understand  these  matters. 
What  do  you  suppose  ruined  me,  now  ?  " 

"Vy,"said  Sam,  trimming  the  rushlight,  "I  s'pose  the  beginnin' 
wos,  that  you  got  into  debt,  eh  ?  " 

'^ Never  owed  a  farden,"  said  the  cobbler;  ''try  again." 

"  Veil,  perhaps,'^  said  Sam,  ''  you  bought  houses,  vich  is  delicate 
English  for  goin'  mad ;  or  took  to  buildin',  vich  is  a  medical  term  for 
bein'  incurable." 

The  cobbler  shook  his  head,  and  said — "  Try  again." 

"  You  didn't  go  to  law,  I  hope  ?"  said  Sam,  suspiciously. 

*'  Never  in  my  life,"  replied  the  cobbler.  '^  The  fact  is,  I  was  ruined 
by  having  money  left  me." 

*'Come,  come,"  said  Sam,  "that  von't  do.      I  vish  some  rich  enemy 
'ud  try  to  vork  my  destruction  in  that  'ere  vay.     I'd  let  him/' 
V    ''  Oh,   I   dare  say  you  don't  believe  it,"  said  the  cobbler,  quietly 
smoking  his  pipe.     "  I  wouldn't  if  I  was  you  j  but  it's  true  for  all 
that." 

*'  How  wos  it?"  inquired  Sam,  half  induced  to  believe  the  fact  already 
by  the  look  the  cobbler  gave  him. 

"  Just  this,"  replied  the  cobbler ;  ^'  an  old  gentleman  that  I  worked 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


471 


for,  down  in  the  country,  and  a  humble  relation  of  whose  I  married — 
she's  dead,  God  bless  her,  and  thank  Him  for  it — was  seized  with  a  fit 
and  went  off." 

"Where?"  inquired  Sam,  who  was  growing  sleepy  after  the  numer- 
ous events  of  the  day. 

*^  How  should  I  know  where  he  went  ?  "  said  the  cobbler,  speaking 
through  his  nose  in  an  intense  enjoyment  of  his  pipe.  "  He  went  off 
dead." 

"  Oh,  that  indeed,"  said  Sam.     "  Veil  ? " 

"  Well,"  said  the  cobbler,  "  he  left  five  thousand  pound  behind 
him." 

*'  And  wery  gen-teel  in  him  so  to  do,"  said  Sam. 

*'One  of  which,"  continued  the  cobbler,  "he  left  to  me,  'cause  I'd 
married  his  relation  you  see." 

"  Wery  good,"  murmured  Sam. 

*^  And  being  surrounded  by  a  great  number  of  nieces  and  nevys,  as 
was  always  quarrelling  and  fighting  among  themselves  for  the  property, 
he  makes  me  his  executor,  and  leaves  the  rest  to  me  in  trust,  to  divide 
it  among  'em  as  the  will  prowided." 

"  Wot  do  you  mean  by  leavin'  it  on  trust  ? "  inquired  Sam,  waking 
up  a  little.     '^  If  it  ain't  ready  money,  vere's  the  use  on  it  ? " 

"  It's  a  law  term,  that's  all,"  said  the  cobbler. 

"  I  don't  think  that,"  said  Sam,  shaking  his  head.  '^  There's  wery 
little  trust  at  that  shop.     Hows'ever,  go  on." 

"Well,"  said  the  cobbler,  "  when  I  was  going  to  take  out  a  probate 
of  the  will,  the  nieces  and  nevys,  who  was  desperately  disappointed  at 
not  getting  all  the  money,  enters  a  caveat  against  it." 

"  What's  that?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  A  legal  instrument,  which  is  as  much  as  to  say,  it's  no  go,"  replied 
the  cobbler. 

"  I  see,"  said  Sam,  "  a  sort  of  brother-in-law  o'  the  have-his-carcase. 
Veil." 

"But,"  continued  the  cobbler,  "finding  that  they  couldn't  agree 
among  themselves,  and  consequently  couldn't  get  up  a  case  against  the 
will,  they  withdrew  the  caveat,  and  I  paid  all  the  legacies.  I'd  hardly 
done  it,  when  one  nevy  brings  an  action  to  set  the  will  aside.  The  case 
comes  on  some  months  afterwards,  before  a  deaf  old  gentleman,  in  a 
back  room  somewhere  down  by  Paul's  Churchyard ;  and  after  four 
counsels  had  taken  a  day  a-piece  to  bother  him  regularly,  he  takes  a 
veek  or  two  to  consider  and  read  the  evidence  in  six  vollums,  and  then 
gives  his  judgment  that  how  the  testator  was  not  quite  right  in  his  head, 
and  I  must  pay  all  the  money  back  again,  and  all  the  costs.  I  appealed ; 
the  case  come  on  before  three  or  four  very  sleepy  gentlemen,  who  had 
heard  it  all  before  in  the  other  court,  where  they're  lawyers  without 
work ;  the  only  difference  being,  that  there  they're  called  doctors,  and 
in  the  other  place  delegates,  if  you  understand  that ;  and  they  very 
dutifully  confirmed  the  decision  of  the  old  gentleman  below.  After 
that  we  went  into  Chancery,  where  we  are  still,  and  where  I  shall 
always  be.  My  lawyers  have  had  all  my  thousand  pound  long  ago;  and 
what  between  the  estate,  as  they  call  it,  and  the  costs,  I'm  here  for  ten 


4*72  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 

thousand,  and  sliall  stop  here  till  I  die,  mending  shoes.  Some  gentle- 
men have  talked  of  bringing  it  before  parliament,  and  I  dare  say  would 
have  done  it,  only  they  hadn't  time  to  come  to  me,  and  I  hadn't  power 
to  go  to  them  ;  and  they  got  tired  of  my  long  letters,  and  dropped  the 
business.  And  this  is  God's  truth,  without  one  word  of  suppression  or 
exaggeration,  as  tifty  people,  both  in  this  place  and  out  of  it,  very  well 
know." 

The  cobbler  paused  to  ascertain  what  effect  his  story  had  produced 
upon  Sam ;  but  finding  that  he  had  dropped  asleep,  knocked  the  ashes 
out  of  his  pipe,  sighed,  put  it  down,  drew  the  bedclothes  over  his  head, 
and  went  to  sleep  too. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  sitting  at  breakfast  alone  next  morning,  Sam  being 
busily  engaged  in  the  cobbler's  room,  polishing  his  master's  shoes  and 
brushing  the  black  gaiters,  when  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  which, 
before  Mr.  Pickwick  could  cry  "  Come  in,"  was  followed  by  the  appear- 
ance of  a  head  of  hair  and  a  cotton- velvet  cap,  both  of  which  articles  of 
dress  he  had  no  difficulty  in  recognising  as  the  personal  property  of 
Mr.  Smangle. 

"  How  are  you  ?  "  said  that  worthy,  accompanying  the  inquiry  with 
a  score  or  two  of  nods  ;  "  I  say,  do  you  expect  anybody  this  morning  ? 
Three  men — devilish  gentlemanly  fellows — have  been  asking  after  you 
down  stairs,  and  knocking  at  every  door  on  the  Hall  flight ;  for  which 
they've  been  most  infernally  blown  up  by  the  collegians  that  had  the 
trouble  of  opening  'em." 

"Dear  me!  how  very  foolish  of  them,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rising. 
'*  Yes,  I  have  no  doubt  they  are  some  friends  whom  I  rather  expected 
to  see  yesterday." 

"Friends  of  yours!"  exclaimed  Smangle,  seizing  Mr.  Pickwick  by 
the  hand.  "  Say  no  more.  Curse  me,  they're  friends  of  mine  from 
this  minute,  and  friends  of  Mivins's  too.  Infernal  pleasant  gentle- 
manly dog,  Mivins,  isn't  he .'' "  said  Smangle,  with  great  feeling. 

'^I  know  so  little  of  the  gentleman,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hesitating, 
'^' that  I " 

*'  I  know  you  do,"  interposed  Smangle,  clasping  Mr.  Pickwick  by 
the  shoulder.  ''  You  shall  know  him  better.  You'll  be  delighted  with 
him.  That  man.  Sir,"  said  Smangle,  with  a  solemn  countenance,  "  has 
comic  powers  that  would  do  honour  to  Drury  Lane  Theatre." 

"Has  he  indeed.^"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Ah,  by  Jove  he  has!"  replied  Smangle.  "Hear  him  come  the 
four  cats  in  the  wheelbarrow — four  distinct  cats,  Sir,  I  pledge  you  my 
honour.  Now  you  know  that's  infernal  clever  ;  dam'me,  you  can't  help 
liking  a  man,  when  you  see  these  sort  of  traits  about  him.  He's  only 
one  fault — that  little  failing  1  mentioned  to  you,  you  know." 

As  Mr.  Smangle  shook  his  head  in  a  confidential  and  sympathis- 
ing manner  at  this  juncture,  Mr.  Pickwick  felt  that  he  was  expected 
to  say  something,  so  he  said  "  Ah ! "  and  looked  restlessly  at  the 
door. 

"Ah!"  echoed  Mr.  Sniangle,  with  a  long-drawn  sigh.  "He's 
delightful  company,  that  man  is,  Sir — I  don't  know  better  company 
anywhere ;  but  he  has  that  one  drawback.     H  the  ghost  of  his  grand- 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  473 

father.  Sir,  was  to  rise  before  him  this  minute,  he'd  ask  him  for  tlie 
loan  of  his  acceptance  on  an  eighteenpenny  stamp." 

"  Dear  me ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Yes,"  added  Mr.  Smangle ;  "  and  if  he'd  the  power  of  raising  him 
again,  he  would,  in  two  months  and  three  days  from  this  time,  to  renew 
the  bill!" 

"  These  are  very  remarkable  traits,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  "  but 
I'm  afraid  that  while  we  are  talking  here,  my  friends  may  be  in  a  state 
of  great  perplexity  at  not  finding  me." 

*'  I'll  show  'em  the  way,"  said  Smangle,  making  for  the  door.  "  Good 
day,  I  won't  disturb  you  while  they're  here,  you  know.  By-the- 
bye " 

As  Smangle  pronounced  the  last  three  words,  he  stopped  suddenly, 
reclosed  the  door  which  he  had  opened,  and,  walking  softly  back  to 
Mr.  Pickwick,  stepped  close  up  to  him  on  tiptoe,  and  said  in  a  very 
soft  whisper — 

"  You  couldn't  make  it  convenient  to  lend  me  half-a-crown  till  the 
latter  end  of  next  week,  could  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Pickwick  could  scarcely  forbear  smilipg,  but  managing  to  pre- 
serve his  gravity,  he  drew  forth  the  coin,  and  placed  it  in  ]Mr.  Smangle's 
palm ;  upon  which  that  gentleman,  with  many  nods  and  winks,  imply- 
ing profound  mystery,  disappeared  in  quest  of  the  three  strangers,  with 
whom  he  presently  returned ;  and  having  coughed  thrice,  and  nodded 
as  many  times,  as  an  assurance  to  Mr.  Pickwick  that  he  should  not 
forget  to  pay,  he  shook  hands  all  round  in  an  engaging  manner,  and  at 
length  took  himself  off. 

**  My  dear  friends,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  shaking  hands  alternately 
with  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  ]Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  were  the 
three  visiters  in  question,  *'I  am  delighted  to  see  you." 

The  triumvirate  were  much  affected.  Mr.  Tupman  shook  his  head 
deploringly  ;  Mr.  Snodgrass  drew  forth  his  handkerchief  with  undis- 
guised emotion ;  and  IMr.  Winkle  retired  to  the  window,  and  sniffed 
aloud. 

"  Mornin',  gen'l'm'n,"  said  Sam,  entering  at  the  moment  with  the 
shoes  and  gaiters ;  *'  avay  vith  melincholly,  as  the  little  boy  said  ven  his 
schoolmissis  died.     Velcome  to  the  college,  gen'l'm'n/' 

"  This  foolish  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  tapping  Sam  on  the  head 
as  he  knelt  down  to  button  up  his  master's  gaiters — "  This  foolish 
fellow  has  got  himself  arrested,  in  order  to  be  near  me." 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  three  friends. 

"Yes,  gen'l'm'n,"  said  Sam,  "  I'm  a — stand  steady,  Sir,  if  you  please 
—I'm  a  pris'ner,  gen'l'm'n;  con-fined,  as  the  lady  said." 

"A  prisoner !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle,  with  unaccountable  vehe- 
mence. 

"  Hallo,  Sir ! "  responded  Sam,  looking  up.  "  Wot's  the  matter. 
Sir?" 

"I  had  hoped,  Sam,  that nothing,  nothing,"  said  Mr.  Winkle, 

precipitately. 

There  was  something  so  very  abrupt  and  unsettled  in  Mr.  Winkle's 


474  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS    OF 

manner,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  involuntarily  looked  at  his  two  friends  for 
explanation. 

"  We  don't  know/'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  answering  this  mute  appeal 
aloud.  "  He  has  been  much  excited  for  two  days  past,  and  his 
whole  demeanour  very  unlike  what  it  usually  is.  We  feared  there 
must  be  something  the  matter,  but  he  resolutely  denies  it." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  colouring  beneath  Mr.  Pickwick's  gaze; 
"  there  is  really  nothing.  I  assure  you  there  is  nothing,  my  dear  Sir. 
It  will  be  necessary  for  me  to  leave  town  for  a  short  time  on  private 
business,  and  I  had  hoped  to  have  prevailed  upon  you  to  allow  Sam  to 
accompany  me." 

Mr.  Pickwick  looked  more  astonished  than  before. 
"I  think,"  faultered  Mr.  Winkle,  "that  Sam  would  have  had  no 
objection  to  do  so;  but  of  course  his  being  a  prisoner  here,  renders  it 
impossible.     So  I  must  go  alone." 

As  Mr.  Winkle  said  these  words,  Mr.  Pickwick  felt,  with  some  asto- 
nishment, that  Sam's  fingers  were  trembling  at  the  gaiters,  as  if  he 
were  rather  surprised  or  startled.  He  looked  up  at  Mr.  Winkle,  too, 
when  he  had  finished  speaking,  and  though  the  glance  they  exchanged 
was  instantaneous,  they  seemed  to  understand  each  other. 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  this,  Sam?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick 
sharply. 

"  No,  I  don't,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  beginning  to  button  with 
extraordinary  assiduity. 

"Are  you  sure,  Sam  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'^  Vy,  Sir,"  responded  Mr.  Weller;  "I'm  sure  so  far,  that  I've  never 
heerd  anythin'  on  the  subject  afore  this  moment.  If  I  makes  any 
guess  about  it,"  added  Sam,  looking  at  Mr.  Winkle,  "I  haven't  got 
any  right  to  say  wot  it  is,  'fear  it  should  be  a  wrong  'un." 

"I  have  no  right  to  make  any  further  enquiry  into  the  private 
affairs  of  a  friend,  however  intimate  a  one,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
after  a  short  silence;  "at  present  let  me  merely  say,  that  I  do  not 
understand  this  at  all.  There — we  have  had  quite  enough  of  the 
subject." 

Thus  expressing  himself,  Mr.  Pickwick  led  the  conversation  to  dif- 
ferent topics,  and  Mr.  Winkle  gradually  appeared  more  at  ease,  though 
still  very  far  from  being  completely  so.  They  had  all  so  much  to  con- 
verse about,  that  the  morning  very  quickly  passed  away  ;  and  when  at 
three  o'clock  Mr.  Weller  produced  upon  the  little  dining  table,  a  roast 
leg  of  mutton  and  an  enormous  meat  pie,  with  sundry  dishes  of  vege- 
tables, and  pots  of  porter,  which  stood  upon  the  chairs  or  the  sofa- 
bedstead,  or  where  they  could,  every  body  felt  disposed  to  do  justice 
to  the  meal,  notwithstanding  that  the  meat  had  been  purchased  and 
dressed,  and  the  pie  made  and  baked  at  the  prison  cookery  hard  by. 

To  these  succeeded  a  bottle  or  two  of  very  good  wine,  for  which  a 
messenger  was  dispatched  by  Mr.  Pickwick  to  the  Horn  Coffeehouse, 
in  Doctors'  Commons.  The  bottle  or  two,  indeed,  might  be  more 
properly  described  as  a  bottle  or  six,  for  by  the  time  it  was  drunk  and 
tea  over,  the  bell  began  to  ring  for  strangers  to  withdraw. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  475 

But  if  jMr.  Winkle's  behaviour  had  been  unaccountable  in  the  morn- 
ing, it  became  perfectly  unearthly  and  solemn  when,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  his  feelings  and  his  share  of  the  bottle  or  six,  he  prepared  to 
take  leave  of  his  friend.  He  lingered  behind,  until  Mr.  Tupman  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass  had  disappeared,  and  then  fervently  clenched  Mr. 
Pickwick's  hand  with  an  expression  of  face,  in  which  deep  and  mighty 
resolve  was  fearfully  blended  with  the  very  concentrated  essence  of 
gloom. 

"  Good  night,  my  dear  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle  between  his  set 
teeth. 

"  Bless  you,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  the  warm-hearted  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, as  he  returned  the  pressure  of  his  young  friend's  hand. 

"  Now  then/'  cried  Mr.  Tupman  from  the  gallery. 

*'  Yes,  yes,  directly,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.     ''  Good  night." 

"  Good  night,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

There  was  another  good  night,  and  another,  and  half  a  dozen  more 
after  that,  and  still  Mv.  Winkle  had  fast  hold  of  his  friend's  hand,  and 
was  looking  into  his  face  with  the  same  strange  expression. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  ? "  said  Mr.  Pickwick  at  last,  when  his 
arm  was  quite  sore  with  shaking. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Well  then,  good  night,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  attempting  to  dis- 
engage his  hand. 

"  My  friend,  my  benefactor,  my  honoured  companion,"  murmured  Mr. 
Winkle,  catching  at  his  wrist.  "  Do  not  judge  me  harshly  ;  do  not, 
when  you  hear  that  driven  to  extremity  by  hopeless  obstacles,  I " 

"  Now  then,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  re-appearing  at  the  door.  "  Are 
you  coming,  or  are  we  to  be  locked  in  ? " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  am  ready,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  And  with  a  violent 
effort  he  tore  himself  away. 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  was  gazing  down  the  passage  after  them  in  silent 
astonishment,  Sam  Weller  appeared  at  the  stair-head,  and  whispered 
for  one  moment  in  Mr.  Winkle's  ear. 

"  Oh  certainly,  depend  upon  me,"  said  that  gentleman  aloud. 

"  Thankee,  Sir.     You  von't  forget,  Sir  ?  "  said  Sam. 

"  Of  course  not,''  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Vish  you  luck.  Sir,"  said  Sam,  touching  his  hat.  "  I  should 
very  much  like  to  ha'  joined  you,  Sir;  but  the  gov'ner  o'  course  is  pair- 
amount." 

"  It  is  very  much  to  your  credit  that  you  remain  here,"  said  Mr. 
Winkle.     With  these  words  they  disappeared  down  the  stairs. 

''  Very  extraordinary,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  going  back  into  his 
room,  and  seating  himself  at  the  table  in  a  musing  attitude.  *'  What 
can  that  young  man  be  going  to  do ! " 

He  had  sat  ruminating  about  the  matter  for  some  time,  when  the 
voice  of  Roker,  the  turnkey,  demanded  whether  he  might  come  in. 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I've  brought  you  a  softer  pillow,  Sir,"  said  Roker,  "  instead  of  the 
temporary  one  you  had  last  night." 


476  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Thank  you/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''  Will  you  take  a  glass  of 
wiiie  ? 

"  You're  wery  good,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Roker,  accepting  the  proffered 
glass.     "  Yours,  Sir." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  your  landlord's  wery  bad  to-night,  Sir/'  said 
Roker,  setting  down  the  glass,  and  inspecting  the  lining  of  his  hat  pre- 
paratory to  putting  it  on  again. 

"  What !     The  Chancery  prisoner  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  He  won't  be  a  Chancery  prisoner  wery  long  Sir,"  replied  Roker, 
turning  his  hat  round  so  as  to  get  the  maker's  name  right  side  upwards 
as  he  looked  into  it. 

"  You  make  my  blood  run  cold,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  What  do 
you  mean  }  " 

"  He's  been  consumptive  for  a  long  time  past,"  said  Mr.  Roker, 
'^  and  he's  taken  wery  bad  in  the  breath  to-night.  The  doctor  said  six 
months  ago  that  nothing  but  change  of  air  could  save  him." 

"  Great  Heaven  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  ''  has  this  man  been 
slowly  murdered  by  the  law  for  six  months ! " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  Sir,"  replied  Roker,  weighing  the  hat  by 
the  brims  in  both  hands.  "  I  suppose  he'd  have  been  took  the  same 
wherever  he  was.  He  went  into  the  infirmary  this  morning;  the 
doctor  says  his  strength  is  to  be  kept  up  as  much  as  possible,  and  the 
warden's  sent  him  wine  and  broth  and  that,  from  his  own  house.  It's 
not  the  warden's  fault,  you  know,  Sir." 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  hastily. 

"  I'm  afraid  however,"  said  Roker  shaking  his  head,  "  that  it's  all 
up  with  hint;  I  offered  Neddy  two  sixpenn'orths  to  one  upon  it  just 
now,  but  he  wouldn't  take  it,  and  quite'right.  Thankee,  Sir.  Good 
night.  Sir." 

'^  Stay,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  earnestly.     "  Where  is  this  infirmary  ?  " 

"  Just  over  where  you  slept.  Sir,"  replied  Roker.  "  I'll  show  you 
if  you  like  to  come."  Mr.  Pickwick  snatched  up  his  hat  without 
speaking,  and  followed  at  once. 

The  turnkey  led  the  way  in  silence,  and  gently  raising  the  latch  of 
the  room-door,  motioned  Mr.  Pickwick  to  enter.  It  was  a  large,  bare, 
desolate  room,  with  a  number  of  stump  bedsteads  made  of  iron,  on 
one  of  which  lay  stretched  the  shadow  of  a  man  :  wan,  pale,  and  ghastly. 
His  breathing  was  hard  and  thick,  and  he  moaned  painfully  as  it  came 
and  went.  At  the  bedside  sat  a  short  old  man  in  a  cobbler's  apron,  who 
by  the  aid  of  a  pair  of  horn  spectacles,  was  reading  from  the  bible  aloud. 
It  was  the  fortunate  legatee. 

The  sick  man  laid  his  hand  upon  his  attendant's  arm,  and  motioned 
him  to  stop.     He  closed  the  book,  and  laid  it  on  the  bed. 

"  Open  the  window,"  said  the  sick  man. 

He  did  so.  The  noise  of  carriages  and  carts,  the  rattle  of  wheels, 
the  cries  of  men  and  boys ;  all  the  busy  sounds  of  a  mighty  multitude 
instinct  with  life  and  occupation,  blended  into  one  deep  murmur,  floated 
into  the  room.     Above  the  hoarse  loud  hum  arose  from  time  to  time  a 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


477 


boisterous  laugh  ;  or  a  scrap  of  some  jingling  song,  shouted  forth  by  one 
of  the  giddy  crowd,  would  strike  upon  the  ear  for  an  instant,  and  then 
be  lost  amidst  the  roar  of  voices  and  the  tramp  of  footsteps — the  break- 
ing of  the  billows  of  the  restless  sea  of  life  that  rolled  heavily  on, 
without.  These  are  melancholy  sounds  to  a  quiet  listener  at  any  time ; 
but  how  melancholy  to  the  watcher  by  the  bed  of  death  ! 

"There  is  no  air  here,"  said  the  sick  man  faintly.  "The  place 
pollutes  it;  it  was  fresh  round  about,  when  I  walked  there,  years 
ago;  but  it  grows  hot  and  heavy  in  passing  these  walls.  I  cannot 
breathe  it." 

'*  We  have  breathed  it  together  a  long  time,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  Come,  come." 

There  was  a  short  silence,  during  which  the  two  spectators  approached 
the  bed.  The  sick  man  drew  a  hand  of  his  old  fellow  prisoner  towards 
him,  and  pressing  it  affectionately  between  both  his  own,  retained  it  in 
his  grasp. 

"  I  hope,"  he  gasped  after  a  while — so  faintly  that  they  bent  their 
ears  close  over  the  bed  to  catch  the  half-formed  sounds  his  cold  blue 
lips  gave  vent  to — "  I  hope  my  merciful  Judge  will  bear  in  mind  my 
heavy  punishment  on  earth.  Twenty  years,  my  friend,  twenty  years 
in  this  hideous  grave.  My  heart  broke  when  my  child  died,  and 
I  could  not  even  kiss  him  in  his  little  coffin.  My  loneliness  since  then,  in 
all  this  noise  and  riot,  has  been  very  dreadful.  JMay  God  forgive  me  ! 
He  has  seen  my  solitary,  lingering  death." 

,i  He  folded  his  hands,  and  murmuring  something  more  they  could 
not  hear,  fell  into  a  sleep — only  a  sleep  at  first,  for  they  saw  him 
smile. 

They  whispered  together  for  a  little  time,  and  the  turnkey  stooping 
over  the  pillow,  drew  hastily  back.  "  He  has  got  his  discharge,  by 
G — ! "  said  the  man. 

He  had.  But  he  had  grown  so  like  death  in  life,  that  they  knew  not 
when  he  died. 


478  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS    OF 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

DESCRIPTIVE  OF  AN  AFFECTING  INTERVIEW  BETWEEN  MR.  SAMUEL 
WELLER  AND  A  FAMILY  PARTY.  MR.  PICKWICK  MAKES  A  TOUR 
OF  THE  DIMINUTIVE  WORLD  HE  INHABITS,  AND  RESOLVES  TO 
MIX    WITH    IT    IN    FUTURE   AS    LITTLE    AS    POSSIBLE.  ^ 

A  FEW  mornings  after  his  incarceration^  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  having 
arranged  his  master's  room  with  all  possible  care,  and  seen  him  comfort- 
ably seated  over  his  books  and  papers,  withdrew  to  employ  himself  for 
an  hour  or  two  to  come,  as  he  best  could.  It  was  a  fine  morning,  and 
it  occurred  to  Sam  that  a  pint  of  porter  in  the  open  air  would  lighten 
his  next  quarter  of  an  hour  or  so,  as  well  as  any  little  amusement  in 
which  he  could  indulge. 

Having  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  he  betook  himself  to  the  tap,  and 
having  purchased  the  beer,  and  obtained  moreover,  the  day-but-one- 
before-yesterday's  paper,  he  repaired  to  the  skittle  ground,  and  seating 
himself  on  a  bench,  proceeded  to  enjoy  himself  in  a  very  sedate  and 
methodical  manner. 

First  of  all,  he  took  a  refreshing  draught  of  the  beer,  and  then  he 
looked  up  at  a  window,  and  bestowed  a  Platonic  wink  on  a  young  lady 
who  was  peeling  potatoes  thereat.  Then  he  opened  the  paper,  and 
folded  it  SO  as  to  get  the  police  reports  outward ;  and  this  being  a 
vexatious  and  difficult  thing  to  do  when  there  is  any  wind  stirring,  he 
took  another  draught  of  the  beer  when  he  had  accomplished  it.  Then 
he  read  two  lines  of  the  paper,  and  stopped  short  to  look  at  a  couple  of 
men  who  were  finishing  a  game  at  rackets,  which,  being  concluded,  he 
cried  out  "  wery  good  "  in  an  approving  manner,  and  looked  round  upon 
the  spectators,  to  ascertain  whether  their  sentiments  coincided  with  his 
own.  This  involved  the  necessity  of  looking  up  at  the  windows  also ; 
and  as  the  young  lady  was  still  there,  it  was  an  act  of  common  polite- 
ness to  wink  again,  and  to  drink  to  her  good  health  in  dumb  show,  in 
another  draught  of  the  beer,  which  Sam  did;  and  having  frowned 
hideously  upon  a  small  boy  who  had  noted  this  latter  proceeding  with 
open  eyes,  he  threw  one  leg  over  the  other,  and,  holding  the  newspaper 
in  both  hands,  began  to  read  in  real  earnest. 

He  had  hardly  composed  himself  into  the  needful  state  of  abstrac- 
tion, when  he  thought  he  heard  his  own  name  proclaimed  in  some 
distant  passage.  Nor  was  he  mistaken,  for  it  quickly  passed  from 
mouth  to  mouth,  and  in  a  few  seconds  the  air  teemed  with  shouts  of 
"  Weller." 

"  Here !"  roared  Sam,  in  a  stentorian  voice.  "  Wot's  the  matter  ?  * 
Who  wants  him  ?  Has  an  express  come  to  say  that  his  country-house  } 
is  afire  .f"' 

"  Somebody  wants  you  in  the  hall,"  said  a  man  who  was  standing  by. 


r 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  479 

"  Just  mind  that  'ere  paper  and  the  pot,  old  feller,  will  you  ?  "  said 
Sam.  *'  I'm  a  comin'.  Blessed,  if  they  wos  a  callin'  me  to  the  bar, 
they  couldn't  make  more  noise  about  it." 

Accompanying  these  words  with  a  gentle  rap  on  the  head  of  the 
young  gentleman  before  noticed,  who,  unconscious  of  his  close  vicinity 
to  the  person  in  request,  was  screaming  "  Weller"  with  all  his  might, 
Sam  hastened  across  the  ground,  and  ran  up  the  steps  into  the  hall. 
Here,  the  first  object  that  met  his  eyes  was  his  beloved  father  sitting  on 
a  bottom  stair,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  shouting  out  "Weller"  in  his 
very  loudest  tone,  at  half-minute  intervals. 

"  Wot  are  you  a  roarin'i  at?"  said  Sam  impetuously,  when  the  old 
gentleman  had  discharged  himself  of  another  shout ;  "  makin'  yourself 
so  precious  hot  that  you  looks  like  a  aggrawated  glass-blower.  "VYot's 
the  matter  ?  " 

**  Aha !"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  "  I  begun  to  be  afeerd  that  you'd 
gone  for  a  walk  round  the  Regency  Park,  Sammy." 

"Come,"  said  Sam,  "none  o'  them  taunts  agin  the  wictim  o'  avarice, 
and  come  off  that  'ere  step.      Wot  are  you  a  settin'  down  there  for  ?  I 
don't  live  there." 
,   "  I've  got  sitch  a  game  for  you,  Sammy,"  said  the  elder  Mr. Weller,  rising. 

"  Stop  a  minit,"  said  Sam,  "  you're  all  vite  behind." 

"  That's  right,  Sammy,  rub  it  off,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  as  his  son  dusted 
him.  "  It  might  look  personal  here,  if  vun  valked  about  vith  any  vite- 
vash  on  vun's  clothes,  eh ,  Sammy  ? " 

As  Mr.  Weller  exhibited  in  this  place  unequivocal  symptoms  of  an 
approaching  fit  of  chuckling,  Sam  interposed  to  stop  it. 

'*  Keep  quiet,  do,"  said  Sam,  "there  never vos  such  a  old  picter-card 
born.     Vot  are  you  bustin'vith,  now.'*" 

"Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  wiping  his  forehead,  "I'm  afeerd  that 
vun  o'  these  days  I  shall  laugh  myself  into  a  appleplexy,  my  boy." 

"  V'ell,  then,  wot  do  you  do  it  for.^^"  said  Sam.  "Now,  then,  wot 
have  you  got  to  say  ?  " 

"Who  do  you  think 's  come  here  vith  me,  Samivel.^"  said  Mr. 
Weller,  drawing  back  a  pace  or  two,  pursing  up  his  mouth,  and  ex- 
tending his  eye-brows. 

''Pell.? "said  Sam. 

Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head,  and  his  red  cheeks  expanded  with  the 
laughter  that  was  endeavouring  to  find  a  vent. 

"  Mottled- faced  man,  p'r'aps?"  suggested  Sam. 

Again  Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head. 

"  Who  then .?"  asked  Sam. 

"  Your  mother-in-law,"  said  Mr.  Weller ;  and  it  was  lucky  he  did 
say  it,  or  his  cheeks  must  inevitably  have  cracked  from  their  most  un- 
natural distension. 

"  Your  mother-in-law,  Sammy,"  said  IMr.  Weller,  "  and  the  red- 
nosed  man,  my  boy;  and  the  red-nosed  man.     Ho  !  ho!  ho!" 

With  this,  Mr.  Weller  launched  into  convulsions  of  laughter,  while 
Sam  regarded  him  with  a  broad  grin  gradually  overspreading  his  whole 
countenance. 

"  They've  come  to  have  a  little  serous  talk  vith  you,  Samivel,"  said 


480  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 

Mr.  Weller^  wiping  his  eyes.      "Don't  let  out   nothin'   about   the 
unnat'ral  creditor,  Sammy." 

"Wot,  don't  they  know  who  it  is?"  inquired  Sam. 

*'  Not  a  bit  on  it,"  replied  his  father. 

"  Vere  are  they  ? "  said  Sam,  reciprocating  all  the  old  gentleman's  grins. 

"In  the  snuggery,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.  "Catch  the  red-nosed 
man  a  goin'  any  vere  but  vere  the  liquors  is  ;  not  he,  Samivel — not  he. 
Ve'd  a  wery  pleasant  ride  along  the  road  from  the  Markis  this 
mornin',  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  when  he  felt  himself  equal  to  the 
task  of  speaking  in  an  articulate  manner.  "  I  drove  the  old  piebald  in 
that  'ere  little  shay-cart  as  belonged  to  your  mother-in-law's  first  wen- 
ter,  into  vich  a  harm-cheer  vos  lifted  for  the  Shepherd ;  and  I'm  blest," 
said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  look  of  deep  scorn — "  I'm  blest  if  they  didn't 
bring  a  portable  flight  o'  steps  out  into  the  road  a  front  o'  our  door, 
for  him  to  get  up  by." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  ?  "  said  Sam. 

"  I  do  mean  that,  Sammy,"  replied  his  father,  ''and  I  vish  you  could 
ha'  seen  how  tight  he  held  on  by  the  sides  ven  he  did  get  up,  as  if  he 
wos  afeerd  o'  being  precipitayted  down  full  six  foot,  and  dashed  into  a 
million  hatoms.  He  tumbled  in  at  last,  however,  and  avay  ve  vent  ; 
and  I  rayther  think — I  say  I  rayther  think,  Samivel — that  he  found 
his-self  a  little  jolted  ven  ve  turned  the  corners." 

"  Wot,  I  s'pose  you  happened  to  drive  up  agin  a  post  or  two  ?  "  said 
Sam. 

"  I'm  afeerd,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  rapture  of  winks — '^  I'm  afeerd 
I  took  vun  or  two  on  'em,  Sammy ;  he  wos  a  flyin'  out  o'  the  harm-cheer 
all  the  vay." 

Here  the  old  gentleman  shook  his  head  from  side  to  side,  and  was 
seized  with  a  hoarse  internal  rumbling,  accompanied  with  a  violent 
swelling  of  the  countenance,  and  a  sudden  increase  in  the  breadth  of  all 
his  features — symptoms  which  alarmed  his  son  not  a  little. 

"Don't  be  frightened,  Sammy — don't  be  frightened,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  when,  by  dint  of  much  struggling,  and  various  convulsive 
stamps  upon  the  ground  he  had  recovered  his  voice.  "  It's  only  a  kind 
o'  quiet  laugh  as  I'm  a  tryin'  to  come,  Sammy." 

"  Veil,  if  that's  wot  it  is,"  said  Sam,  "you'd  better  not  try  to  come 
it  agin.     You'll  find  it  rayther  a  dangerous  invention." 

"Don't  vou  like  it,  Sammy.'*"  enquired  the  old  gentleman. 

"Not  at 'all,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Veil,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  the  tears  still  running  down  his 
cheeks,  "  it  'ud  ha'  been  a  wery  great  accommodation  to  me  if  I  could 
ha'  done  it,  and  'ud  ha'  saved  a  good  many  vords  atween  your  mother-in- 
law  and  me,  sometimes ;  but  I'm  afeerd  you're  right,  Sammy :  it's  too 
much  in  the  appleplexy  line — a  deal  too  much,  Samivel."  i 

This  conversation  brought  them  to  the  door  of  the  snuggery,  into 
which  Sam — pausing  for  an  instant  to  look  over  his  shoulder,  and  cast 
a  sly  leer  at  his  respected  progenitor,  who  was  still  giggling  behind — 
at  once  led  the  way. 

"  Mother-in-law,"  said  Sam,  politely  saluting  the  lady,  "  wery  much 
obliged  to  you  for  this  here  wisit.     Shepherd,  how  air  you  }  " 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  481 

"Oh,  Samuel!"  said  Mrs.  Weller.     "  This  is  dreadful." 

"  Not  a  bit  on  it,  mum,"  replied  Sam.     *'  Is  it.  Shepherd?" 

Mr.  Stiggins  raised  his  hands,  and  turned  up  his  eyes,  till  the 
whites — or  rather  the  yellows — were  alone  visible,  but  made  no  reply 
in  words. 

*'  Is  this  here  genUm'n  troubled  vith  any  painful  complaint?'*  said 
Sam,  looking  to  his  mother-in-law  for  explanation. 

"  The  good  man  is  grieved  to  see  you  here,  Samuel,"  replied  Mrs. 
Weller. 

"Oh,  that's  it,  is  it?"  said  Sam.  **  I  wos  afeerd,  from  his  manner^ 
that  he  might  ha'  forgotten  to  take  pepper  vith  that  'ere  last  CQweum- 
ber  he  eat.  Set  down.  Sir ;  ve  make  no  extra  charge  for  the  settin' 
down,  as  the  king  remarked  ven  he  blow'd  up  his  ministers." 

"Young  man,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  ostentatiously,  "I  fear  you  are 
not  softened  by  imprisonment." 

"Beg  your  pardon,  Sir,"  replied  Sam,  "wot  wos  you  graciously 
please  to  hobserve  ?  " 

"  I  apprehend,  young  man,  that  your  nature  is  no  softer  for  this 
chastening,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  in  a  loud  voice. 

"Sir,"  replied  Sam,  '^you're  wery  kind  to  say  so.  I  hope  my 
natur  is  7iot  a  soft  vun.  Sir.  Wery  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  good 
opinion,  Sir.'' 

At  this  point  of  the  conversation,  a  sound,  indecorously  approaching 
to  a  laugh,  was  heard  to  proceed  from  the  chair  in  which  the  elder  Mr. 
Weller  was  seated,  upon  which  Mrs.  Weller,  on  a  hasty  consideration 
of  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  considered  it  her  bounden  duty  to 
become  gradually  hysterical. 

'^  Weller,"  said  JVIrs.  W.  (the  old  gentleman  was  seated  in  a  comer); 
"  Weller  !  come  forth." 

"  Wery  much  obleeged  to  you,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Weller ;  "  but 
I'm  quite  comfortable  vere  I  am." 

Upon  this,  Mrs.  Weller  burst  into  tears. 

"  Wot's  gone  wrong,  mum  ?  "  said  k5am. 

"Oh,  Samuel!"  replied  Mrs.  Weller;  "your  father  makes  me 
wretched.     Will  nothing  do  him  good  ?  " 

"  Do  you  hear  this  here  ?  "  said  Sam.  "  Lady  vants  to  know  vether 
nothin'  'ull  do  you  good." 

"Wery  much  indebted  to  Mrs.  Weller  for  her  po-lite  enquiries, 
Sammy,'"  replied  the  old  gentleman.  "I  think  a  pipe  vould  benefit 
me  a  good  deal.     Could  I  be  accommodated,  Sammy  ?" 

Here  Mrs.  Weller  let  fall  some  more  tears,  and  Mr.  Stiggins 
groaned. 

"  Hallo !  here's  this  unfort'nate  gen'lm'n  took  ill  agin,"  said  Sam, 
looking  round.     "  Vere  do  you  feel  it  now.  Sir  ?  " 

"In  the  same  place,  young  man,"  rejoined  Mr.  Stiggins:  "in  the 
same  place." 

"  Vere  may  that  be,  Sir  ?  "  enquired  Sam,  with  great  outward  sim 
plicity. 

"In  the  buzzim,  young  man,"  replied  Mr.  Stiggins,  placing  his 
umbrella  on  his  waistcoat. 


482  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

'  At  this  affecting  reply,  Mrs.  Weller  being  wholly  unable  to  suppress 
her  feelings,  sobbed  aloud,  and  stated  her  conviction  that  the  red-nosed 
man  was  a  saint ;  whereupon  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  ventured  to  suggest, 
in  an  undertone,  that  he  must  be  the  representative  of  the  united 
parishes  of  Saint  Simon  Without  and  Saint  Walker  Within. 

"I'm  afeerd,  mum,"  said  Sam,  " that  this  here  gen'lm'n,  vith  the 
tvist  in  his  countenance,  feels  rayther  thirsty,  vith  the  melancholy 
spectacle  afore  him.     Is  it  the  case,  mum  ?  " 

The  worthy  lady  looked  at  Mr.  Stiggins  for  a  reply,  and  that  gen- 
tleman, with  many  rollings  of  the  eye,  clenched  his  throat  with  his  right 
hand,  and  mimicked  the  act  of  swallowing,  to  intimate  that  he  was  a- 
thirst. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Samuel,  that  his  feelings  have  made  him  so,  indeed," 
said  Mrs.  Weller,  mournfully. 

*^  Wot's  your  usual  tap,  Sir  ?  *'  replied  Sam. 

"Oh,  my  dear  young  friend!"  replied  Mr.  Stiggins,  "all  taps  is 
vanities." 

"Too  true;  too  true,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Weller,  murmuring  a 
groan  and  shaking  her  head  assentingly. 

"Veil,"  said  Sam,  "I  des-say  they  may  be.  Sir;  but  vich  is  your 
partickler  wanity.  Vich  wanity  do  you  like  the  flavour  on  best. 
Sir.?" 

"Oh,  my  dear  young  friend,"  replied  Mr.  Stiggins,  "\  despise 
them  all.  If,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  ''if  there  is  any  one  of  them  less 
odious  than  another,  it  is  the  liquor  called  rum — warm,  my  dear  young 
friend,  with  three  lumps  of  sugar  to  the  tumbler." 

"  Werry  sorry  to  say,  Sir,"  said  Sam,  '^that  they  don  t  allow  that 
partickler  wanity  to  be  sold  in  this  here  establishment." 

"Oh,  the  hardness  of  heart  of  these  inveterate  men!"  ejaculated 
Mr.  Stiggins.  "  Oh,  the  accursed  cruelty  of  these  inhuman  perse- 
cutors ! " 

With  these  words,  IMr.  Stiggins  again  cast  up  his  eyes,  and  rapped 
his  breast  with  his  umbrella ;  and  it  is  but  justice  to  the  reverend  gen- 
tleman to  say,  that  his  indignation  appeared  very  real  and  unfeigned 
indeed. 

After  Mrs.  Weller  and  the  red-nosed  gentleman  had  commented  on 
this  inhuman  usage  in  a  very  forcible  manner,  and  vented  a  variety  of 
pious  and  holy  execrations  against  its  authors,  the  latter  recommended 
a  bottle  of  port  wine,  warmed  with  a  little  water,  spice,  and  sugar,  as 
being  grateful  to  the  stomach,  and  savouring  less  of  vanity  than  many 
other  compounds.  It  was  accordingly  ordered  to  be  prepared,  and 
pending  its  preparation  the  red-nosed  man  and  Mrs.  Weller  looked  at 
the  elder  W.  and  groomed. 

"  Veil,  Sammy,"  said  that  gentleman,  "  I  hope  you'll  find  your  spirits 
rose  by  this  here  lively  wisit.  Wery  cheerful  and  improvin'  conwersa- 
tion,  ain't  it,  Sammy  }  " 

*'  You're  a  reprobate,"  replied  Sam;  "and  I  desire  you  von't  address 
no  more  o'  them  ungraceful  remarks  to  me." 

So  far  from  being  edified  by  this  very  proper  reply,  the  elder  Mr. 


r 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  483 

Weller  at  once  rcUipsed  into  a  broad  grin :  and  this  inexorable  conduct 
causing  the  hidy  and  !Mr.  Stiggins  to  close  their  eyes  and  rock  them- 
selves to  and  fro  on  their  chairs,  in  a  troubled  manner,  he  furthermore 
indulged  in  several  acts  of  j):intomime  indicative  of  a  desire  to  pum- 
mel and  wring  the  nose  of  the  aforesaid  Stiggins,  the  performance  of 
which  appeared  to  aHbrd  him  great  mental  relief.  The  old  gentleman 
very  narrowly  escaped  detection  in  one  instance ;  for  Mr.  Stiggins  hap- 
pening to  give  a  start  on  the  arrival  of  the  negus,  brought  his  head  in 
smart  contact  with  the  clenched  fist  with  which  Mr.  Weller  had  been 
describing  imaginary  fireworks  in  the  air,  within  two  inches  of  his  ear 
for  some  minutes  previous. 

"  Wot  are  you  a  reachin'  out  your  hand  for  the  tumbler  in  that  'ere 
sawage  vay  for?"  said  Sam,  with  great  promptitude.  "Don't  you  see 
you've  hit  the  gen'lm'n  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  go  to  do  it,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  some  degree 
abashed  by  the  very  unexpected  occurrence  of  the  incident. 

"  Try  an  invard  application,  Sir,"  said  Sam,  as  the  red-nosed  gen- 
tleman rubbed  his  head  with. a  rueful  visage.  "Wot  do  you  think  o' 
that  for  a  go  o'  wanity  varm,  Sir?" 

Mr.  Stiggins  made  no  verbal  answer,  but  his  manner  was  expressive. 
He  tasted  the  contents  of  the  glass  which  Sam  had  placed  in  his 
hand,  put  his  umbrella  on  the  floor,  and  tasted  it  again,  passing 
his  hand  placidly  across  his  stomach  twice  or  thrice ;  he  then  drank  the 
whole  at  a  breath,  and  smacking  his  lips,  held  out  the  tumbler  for 
more. 

Nor  was  Mrs.  Weller  behind-hand  in  doing  justice  to  the  composition. 
The  good  lady  began  by  protesting  that  she  couldn't  touch  a  drop — 
then  took  a  small  drop — then  a  large  drop — and  then  a  great  many 
drops ;  and  her  feelings  being  of  the  nature  of  those  substances  which 
are  powerfully  affected  by  the  application  of  strong  waters,  she  dropped 
a  tear  with  every  drop  of  negus,  and  so  got  on  melting  the  feelings  down, 
until  at  length  she  had  arrived  at  a  very  pathetic  and  decent  pitch  of 
misery. 

The  elder  i\Ir.  Weller  observed  these  signs  and  tokens  with  many 
manifestations  of  disgust,  and  when,  after  a  second  jug  of  the  same, 
Mr.  Stiggins  began  to  sigh  in  a  dismal  manner,  he  plainly  evinced 
his  disapprobation  of  the  whole  proceedings  by  sundry  incoherent  ram- 
blings  of  speech,  among  which  frequent  angry  repetitions  of  the  word 
"gammon"  were  alone  distinguishable  to  the  ear. 

"I'll  tell  you  wot  it  is,  Samivel,  my  boy,"  whispered  the  old  gentle- 
man into  his  son's  ear,  after  a  long  and  stedfast  contemplation  of  his 
lady  and  Mr.  Stiggins;  "I  think  there  must  be  somethin' wrong  in 
your  mother-in-law's  inside,  as  veil  as  in  that  o'  the  red-nosed 
man." 

*'  Wot  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Sam. 

"I  mean  this  here,  Sammy,"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  "  that  wot 
they  drink  don't  seem  no  nourishment  to  'em ;  it  all  turns  to  varm 
vater  at  vunce,  and  comes  a'  pourin'  out  o'  their  eyes,  'Pend  upon  it, 
Sammy,  it's  a  constitootional  infirmity." 

MM 


484  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Mr.  Weller  delivered  this  scientific  opinion  v/ith  many  confirmatory 
frowns  and  nods,  which  Mrs.  Weller  remarking,  and  concluding  that 
they  bore  some  disparaging  reference  either  to  herself  or  to  Mr.  Stig- 
gins,  or  to  both,  was  on  the  point  of  becoming  infinitely  worse,  when 
Mr.  Stiggins,  getting  on  his  legs  as  well  as  he  could,  proceeded  to 
deliver  an  edifying  discourse  for  the  benefit  of  the  company,  but  more 
especially  of  Mr.  Samuel,  whom  he  adjured,  in  moving  terms,  to  be 
upon  his  guard  in  that  sink  of  iniquity  into  which  he  was  cast ;  to 
abstain  from  all  hypocrisy  and  pride  of  heart ;  and  to  take  in  all  things 
exact  pattern  and  copy  by  him  (Stiggins),  in  which  case  he  might 
calculate  on  arriving  sooner  or  later  at  the  comfortable  conclusion, 
that,  like  him,  he  was  a  most  estimable  and  blameless  character, 
and  that  all  his  acquaintance  and  friends  were  hopelessly  abandoned 
and  profligate  wretches ;  which  consideration,  he  said,  could  not  but 
afford  him  the  liveliest  satisfaction. 

He  furthermore  conjured  him  to  avoid,  above  all  things,  the 
vice  of  intoxication,  Avhich  he  likened  unto  the  fiilthy  habits  of 
swine,  and  to  those  poisonous  and  baleful  drugs  which  being  chewed 
in  the  mouth  are  said  to  filch  away  the  memory.  At  this  point 
of  his  discourse  the  reverend  and  red-nosed  gentleman  became  singu- 
larly incoherent,  and  staggering  to  and  fro  in  the  excitement  of 
his  eloquence,  was  fain  to  catch  at  the  back  of  a  chair  to  preserve  his 
perpendicular. 

Mr.  Stiggins  did  not  desire  his  hearers  to  be  upon  their  guard  against 
those  false  prophets  and  Avretched  mockers  of  reh'gion,  who,  without 
sense  to  expound  its  first  doctrines,  or  hearts  to  feel  its  first  principles, 
are  more  dangerous  members  of  society  than  the  common  criminal; 
imposing  as  they  necessarily  do  upon  the  weakest  and  worst  informed 
natures,  casting  scorn  and  contempt  on  what  should  be  held  most  sacred, 
and  bringing  into  partial  disrepute  large  bodies  of  virtuous  and  well- 
conducted  persons  of  many  excellent  sects  and  persuasions ;  but  as  he 
leant  over  the  back  of  the  chair  for  a  considerable  time,  and  closing 
one  eye,  winked  a  good  deal  with  the  other,  it  is  presumed  that  he 
thought  it  all,  but  kept  it  to  himself. 

During  the  delivery  of  this  oration,  Mrs.  Weller  sobbed  and  wept  at 
the  end  of  the  paragraphs,  while  Sam,  sitting  cross-legged  on  a  chair  and 
resting  his  arms  on  the  top-rail,  regarded  the  speaker  with  great  suavity 
and  blandness  of  demeanour,  occasionally  bestowing  a  look  of  recogni- 
tion on  the  old  gentleman,  who  was  delighted  at  the  beginning,  and  went 
to  sleep  about  half-way. 

"  Brayvo!  wery  pretty!"  said  Sam,  when  the  red-nosed  man  having 
finished,  pulled  his  worn  gloves  on,  thereby  thrusting  his  fingers 
through  the  broken  tops  till  the  knuckles  were  disclosed  to  view — 
'^  Wery  pretty." 

"  I  hope  it  may  do  you  good,  Samuel,"  said  Mrs.  Weller  solemnly. 

*'  I  think  it  vill,  mum,"  replied  Sam. 

*'  I  wish  I  could  hope  that  it  would  do  your  father  good,"  said  Mrs. 
Weller. 

"  Thankee,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior.  "  How  do  you  find 
yourself  arter  it,  my  love  }  " 


I 


^^IF 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  485 

''  Scoffer!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Weller. 

*'  Beniirhted  man  !"  said  tlie  reverend  Mr.  StijrJiins. 

"  If  I  don't  get  no  better  light  than  that  'ere  moonshine  o'  yoiir'n^ 
my  vorthy  creetur,"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  "  it's  wery  likely  as 
I  shall  continey  to  be  a  night  coach  till  I'm  took  off  the  road  alto- 
gether. Now,  Mrs.  We,  if  the  piebald  stands  at  livery  much 
longer,  he'll  stand  at  nothin'  as  ve  go  back,  and  p'raps  that  'ere 
liarm  cheer  nil  be  tipped  over  into  some  hedge  or  another,  vith  the 
shepherd  in  it." 

At  this  supposition  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins,  in  evident  conster- 
nation, gathered  up  his  hat  and  umbrella,  and  proposed  an  immediate 
departure,  to  which  Mrs,  Weller  assented.  Sam  walked  with  them  to 
the  lodge-gate,  and  took  a  dutiful  leave. 

"  A-do,   Samivel,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

'^  Wot's  a-do?"  enquired  Sam. 

"Veil,  good  bye,  then,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

*'  Oh,  that's  wot  you're  a'  aimin'  at,  is  it?"  said  Sam.  '^  Good  bye, 
old  double-vicket." 

"  Sammy,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller,  looking  cautiously  round  ;  "  my 
duty  to  )^our  gov'ner,  and  tell  him  if  he  thinks  better  o'  this  here  bis'- 
ness,  to  com-moonicate  vith  me.  Me  and  a  cab'net-maker  has  dewised 
a  plan  for  gcttin'  him  out.  A  pianner,  Samivel — a  pianner!"  said  Mr. 
Weller,  striking  his  son  on  the  chest  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  and 
falling  back  a  step  or  two. 

''  Wot  do  you  mean  }  "  said  Sam. 

"  A  pianner  forty,  Samivel,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  still  more 
mysterious  manner,  "  as  he  can  have  on  hire;  vun  as  von't  play, 
Sammy." 

'^  And  wot  'ud  be  the  good  o'  that  ?"  said  Sam. 

"  Let  him  send  to  my  friend,  the  cab'net-maker,  to  fetch  it  back, 
Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.     "  Are  you  avake,  now  ? " 

''  No,"  rejoined  Sam. 

'"'  There  ain't  no  vurks  in  it,"  whispered  his  father.  "  It  'nil  hold 
hold  him  easy,  vith  his  hat  and  shoes  on ;  and  breathe  through  the  legs, 
vich  his  holler.  Have  a  passage  ready  taken  for  'Merriker.  The 
'IVIerrikin'  gov'ment  vill  never  give  him  up,  ven  vunce  they  finds  as  he's 
got  money  to  spend,  Sammy.  Let  the  gov'ner  stop  there  till  Mrs. 
Bardell's  dead,  or  Mr.  Dodson  and  Fogg's  hung,  vich  last  ewent  I  think 
is  the  most  likely  to  happen  first,  Sammy  ;  and  then  let  him  come  back 
and  write  a  book  about  the  'Merrikins  as'll  pay  all  his  expenses  and  more, 
if  he  blows  'em  up  enough." 

Mr.  Weller  delivered  this  hurried  abstract  of  his  plot  with  groat 
vehemence  of  whisper,  and  then,  as  if  fearful  of  weakening  the  effect 
of  the  tremendous  communication  by  any  further  dialogue,  gave 
the  coachman's  salute,  and  vanished. 

Sam  had  scarcely  recovered  his  usual  composure  of  countenance, 
which  had  been  greatly  disturbed  by  the  secret  communication  of  his 
respected  relative,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  accosted  him. 

"  Sam,"  said  that  gentleman. 

"  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

MM  2 


486  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  I  am  going  for  a  walk  round  the  prison,  and  I  wish  you  to  attend 
me.  I  see  a  prisoner  we  know  coming  this  way,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, smiling. 

"  Vich,  Sir  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Weller ;  "  the  gen'l'm'n  vith  the  head  o' 
hair,  or  the  interestin'  captive  in  the  stockin's  i " 

"  Neither,"  rejoined  Mr,  Pickwick.  "  He  is  an  older  friend  of  yours, 
Sam." 

"  O'  mine,  Sir?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller. 

"  You  recollect  the  gentleman  very  well,  I  dare  say,  Sam,"  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick,  "  or  else  you  are  more  unmindful  of  your  old  acquaint- 
ances than  I  think  you  are.  Hush  !  not  a  word,  Sam — not  a  syllable. 
Here  he  is." 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  spoke,  Jingle  walked  up.  He  looked  less  miserable 
than  before,  being  clad  in  a  half-worn  suit  of  clothes,  which,  with  Mr. 
Pickwick's  assistance,  had  been  released  from  the  pawnbroker's.  He 
wore  clean  linen  too,  and  had  had  his  hair  cut.  He  was  very  pale 
and  thin,  however  ;  and  as  he  crept  slowly  up,  leaning  on  a  stick,  it 
was  easy  to  see  that  he  had  suffered  severely  frqm  illness  and  want, 
and  was  still  very  weak.  He  took  off  his  hat  as  Mr.  Pickwick 
saluted  him,  and  seemed  much  humbled  and  abashed  at  sight  of  Sam 
Weller. 

Following  close  at  his  heels,  came  Mr.  Job  Trotter,  in  the  catalogue 
of  whose  vices,  want  of  faith  and  attachment  to  his  companion  could, 
at  all  events,  find  no  place.  He  was  still  ragged  and  squalid,  but  his 
face  was  not  quite  so  hollow  as  on  his  first  meeting  with  Mr.  Pickwick 
a  few  days  before.  As  he  took  oflf  his  hat  to  our  benevolent  old  friend, 
he  murmured  some  broken  expressions  of  gratitude,  and  muttered  some- 
thing about  having  been  saved  from  starving. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  impatiently  interrupting  him, 
"  you  can  follow  with  Sam.  I  want  to  speak  to  you,  Mr.  Jingle.  Can 
you  walk  without  his  arm  }  " 

"  Certainly,  Sir — all  ready — not  too  fast — legs  shaky — head  queer — 
round  and  round — earthquaky  sort  of  feeling — very." 

'*  Here,  give  me  your  arm,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  No,  no,"  replied  Jingle  ;  "  won't  indeed — rather  not." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  lean  upon  me,  I  desire.  Sir." 

vSeeing  that  he  was  confused  and  agitated,  and  uncertain  what  to  do, 
Mr.  Pickwick  cut  the  matter  short  by  drawing  the  invalided  stroller's 
arm  through  his,  and  leading  him  away  without  saying  another  word 
about  it. 

During  the  whole  of  this  time,  the  countenance  of  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller  had  exhibited  an  expression  of  the  most  overwhelming  and 
absorbing  astonishment  that  the  imagination  can  pourtray.  After  look- 
ing from  Job  to  Jingle,  and  from  Jingle  to  Job  in  profound  silence,  he 
softly  ejaculated  the  words,  "Veil,  I  am  damn'd!"  which  he  repeated  at 
least  a  score  of  times,  after  which  exertion  he  appeared  wholly  bereft 
of  speech,  and  again  cast  his  eyes,  first  upon  the  one  and  then  upon 
the  other,  in  mute  perplexity  and  bewilderment. 

*•'  Now,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  back. 

"  Pm  a  comin'j  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  mechanically  following  his 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  487 

master ;  and  still  he  lifted  not  his  eyes  from  Mr.  Job  Trotter,  who 
walked  at  his  side  in  silence. 

Job  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground  for  some  time,  and  Sam  with 
his,  glued  to  Job's  countenance,  ran  up  against  the  people  who  were 
walking  about,  and  fell  over  little  children,  and  stumbled  against  steps 
and  railings,  without  appearing  at  all  sensible  of  it,  until  Job,  looking 
stealthily  up,  said — 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Weller  ?  ' 

"  It  is  him  ! "  exclaimed  Sam  ;  and  having  established  Job's  identity 
beyond  all  doubt,  he  smote  his  leg,  and  vented  his  feelings  in  a  long 
shrill  whistle. 

"  Things  has  altered  with  me.  Sir,"  said  Job. 

**  I  should  think  they  had,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  surveying 
his  companion's  rags  with  undisguised  wonder.  "  This  is  rayther 
a  change  for  the  vorse,  Mr.  Trotter,  as  the  gen'l'm'n  said  ven  he  got 
two  doubtful  shillin's  and  sixpenn'orth  o*  pocket-pieces  for  a  good  half- 
crown." 

"  It  is  indeed,"  replied  Job,  shaking  his  head.  "  There  is  no  decep- 
tion now,  Mr.  Weller.  Tears,"  said  Job,  with  a  look  of  momentary 
slyness — "  tears  are  not  the  only  proofs  of  distress,  nor  the  best  ones." 

"  No,  they  ain't,"  replied  Sam,  expressively. 

"  They  may  be  put  on,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Job. 

"  I  know  they  may,"  said  Sam ;  "  some  people,  indeed,  has  'em  always 
ready  laid  on,  and  can  pull  out  the  plug  venever  they  likes." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Job  ;  "  but  these  sort  of  things  are  not  so  easily 
counterfeited,  Mr.  Weller,  and  it  is  a  more  painful  process  to  get  them 
up."  As  he  spoke,  he  pointed  to  his  sallow  sunken  cheeks,  and,  draw- 
ing up  his  coat  sleeve,  disclosed  an  arm  which  looked  as  if  the  bone 
could  be  broken  at  a  touch,  so  sharp  and  brittle  did  it  appear  beneath 
its  thin  covering  of  flesh. 

"  Wot  have  you  been  a  doin'  to  yourself.''"  said  Sam,  recoiling. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Job. 

"Nothin'!"  echoed  Sam. 

"  I  have  been  doin'  nothing  for  many  weeks  past,"  said  Job ;  "  and 
eating  and  drinking  almost  as  little." 

Sam  took  one  comprehensive  glance  at  Mr.  Trotter's  thin  face  and 
wretched  apparel,  and  then  seizing  him  by  the  arm,  commenced  drag- 
ging him  away  with  great  violence. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Mr.  Weller  ?  "  said  Job,  vainly  struggling  in 
the  powerful  grasp  of  his  old  enemy. 

"  Come  on,"  said  Sam  ;  "  come  on."  He  deigned  no  further  expla- 
nation till  they  reached  the  tap,  and  then  called  for  a  pot  of  porter, 
which  was  speedily  produced. 

*'Now,"  said  Sam,  "  drink  that  up  ev'ry  drop  on  it ;  and  then  turn 
the  pot  upside  down,  to  let  me  see  as  you've  took  the  med'cine." 

"  But  my  dear  Mr.  Weller,"  remonstrated  Job. 

"  Down  vith  it,"  said  Sam,  peremptorily. 

Thus  admonished,  Mr.  Trotter  raised  the  pot  to  his  lips,*iand,  by 
gentle  and  almost  imperceptible  degrees,  tilted  it  into  the  air.  He 
paused  once,  and  only  once,  to  draw  a  long  breath,  but  without  raising 


488  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

his  face  from  the  vessel j  which,  in  a  few  moments'thereafter  he  held  out 
at  arm's  length,  bottom  upwards.  Nothing  fell  upon  the  ground  but  a 
few  particles  of  froth,  which  slowly  detached  themselves  from  the  rim 
and  trickled  lazily  down. 

"Veil  done,"  said  Sara.     "  How  do  you  find  yourself  arter  it  ?" 

"  Better,  Sir.     I  think  I  am  better,"  responded  Job. 

"  O'  course  you  air,"  said  Sam,  argumentatively.  "  It's  like 
puttin'  gas  in  a  balloon ;  I  can  see  vith  the  naked  eye  that  you  gets 
stouter  under  the  operation.  Wot  do  you  say  to  another  o'  the  same 
di-mensioRS." 

"  I  would  rather  not,  I  am  much  obliged  to  you.  Sir,"  replied  Job — ^ 
"much  rather  not."' 

"  Veil,  then,  wot  do  you  say  to  some  wittles?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  Thanks  to  your  worthy  governor,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Trotter,  "  we  have 
half  a  leg  of  mutton,  baked,  at  a  quarter  before  three,  with  the  potatoes 
under  it,  to  save  boiling." 

"  Wot  !  Has  he  been  a  purwidin'  for  you  ?"  asked  Sam,  emphati- 
cally. 

''  He  has,  Sir,"  replied  Job.  "  More  than  that,  Mr.  Weller  ;  my 
master  being  very  ill,  he  got  us  a  room — we  were  in  a  kennel  before — 
and  paid  for  it.  Sir ;  and  come  to  look  at  us  at  night  when  nobody 
should  knov/.  jMr.  Weller,"  said  Job,  with  real  tears  in  his  eyes 
for  once,  '^  I  could  serve  that  gentleman  till  I  fell  down  dead  at  his 
feet." 

'^I  say,"  said  Sam,  "  I'll  trouble  you,  my  friend — none  o'  that." 

Job  Trotter  looked  amazed. 

" None  o' that,  I  say,  young  feller,"  repeated  Sam,  firmly.  "No 
vun  serves  him  but  me.  And  now  ve're  upon  it,  I'll  let  you  into 
another  secret  besides  that,"  said  Sam,  as  he  paid  for  the  beer.  "  I 
never  heerd,  mind  you,  nor  read  of  in  story-books,  nor  see  in  picters, 
any  angel  in  tights  and  gaiters — not  even  in  spectacles,  as  I  remember, 
though  that  may  ha'  been  done  for  anythin'  I  know  to  the  contrairey  ; 
but  mark  my  vords.  Job  Trotter,  he's  a  reg'lar  thorough-bred  angel  for 
all  that ;  and  let  me  see  the  man  as  wenturs  to  tell  me  he  knows  a 
better  vun."  With  this  defiance,  Mr.  Weller  buttoned  up  his  change 
in  a  side  pocket ;  and,  with  many  confirmatory  nods  and  gestures  by 
the  way,  proceeded  in  search  of  the  subject  of  discourse. 

They  found  Mr.  Pickwick  in  company  with  Jingle,  talking  very 
earnestly,  and  not  bestowing  a  look  on  the  groups  who  were  congregated 
on  the  racket-ground  ;  they  were  very  motley  groups  too,  and  well 
worth  the  looking  at,  if  it  were  only  in  idle  curiosity. 

"  Well,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  Sam  and  his  companion  drew  nigh, 
"  you  will  see  how  your  health  becomes,  and  think  about  it  meanwhile. 
Make  the  statement  out  for  me  when  you  feel  yourself  equal  to  the 
task,  and  I  will  discuss  tlie  subject  with  you  when  I  have  considered 
it.  Now  go  to  your  room.  You  are  tired,  and  not  strong  enough  to 
be  out  long."  ; 

JMr.  Alfred  Jingle,  without  one  spark  of  his  old  animation — with  i 
nothing  even  of  the  dismal  gaiety  which  he  had  assumed  when  Mr. 
Pickwick  first  stumbled  on  him  in  his  misery,  bowed  low  without 


' 


i 


I 
I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  489 

speaking,  and  motioning  to  Job  not  to  follow  him  just  yet,  crept  slowly 
away. 

'* Curious  scene  this,  is  it  not,  Sam?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking 
good-humouredly  round. 

"  Wery  much  so,  Sir,"  replied  Sam.  "  Vonders  vill  never  cease," 
added  Sam,  speaking  to  himself.  ''  I'm  wery  much  mistaken  if  that 
'ere  Jingle  worn't  a  doin'  somethin'  in  the  vater-cart  vay  !" 

The  area  formed  by  the  wall  in  that  part  of  the  Fleet  in  which  Mr. 
Pickwick  stood,  was  just  wide  enough  to  make  a  good  racket  court,  one 
side  being  formed,  of  course,  by  the  wall  itself,  and  the  other  by  that 
portion  of  the  prison  which  looked  (or  rather  would  have  looked,  but 
for  the  wall)  towards  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  Sauntering  or  sitting 
about,  in  every  possible  attitude  of  listless  idleness,  were  a  great  num- 
ber of  debtors,  the  major  part  of  whom  were  waiting  in  prison  until  their 
day  of  **^  going  up"  before  the  Insolvent  Court  should  arrive,  while 
others  had  been  remanded  for  various  terms,  which  they  were  idling 
away  as  they  best  could.  Some  were  shabby,  some  were  smart,  many 
dirty,  a  few  clean  ;  but  there  they  all  lounged,  and  loitered,  and  slunk 
about,  with  as  little  spirit  or  purpose  as  the  beasts  in  a  menagerie. 

Lolling  from  the  windows  which  commanded  a  view  of  this  prome- 
nade, were  a  number  of  persons ;  some  in  noisy  conversation  with  their 
acquaintance  below;  others  playing  at  b^U  with  some  adventurous 
throwers  outside ;  and  others  looking  on  at  the  racket-players,  or 
watching  the  boys  as  they  cried  the  game.  Dirty  slipshod  women 
passed  and  re-passed  on  their  way  to  the  cooking-house  in  one  corner 
of  the  yard  ;  cliildren  screamed,  and  fought,  and  played  together,  in 
another  ;  the  tumbling  of  the  skittles,  and  the  shouts  of  the  players, 
mingled  perpetually  with  these  and  a  hundred  other  sounds;  and  all 
was  noise  and  tumult — save  in  a  little  miserable  shed  a  few  yards  off, 
where  there  lay,  all  quiet  and  ghastly,  the  body  of  the  Chancery 
prisoner  \A'ho  had  died  the  night  before,  awaiting  the  mockery  of  an 
inquest.  The  body !  It  is  the  lawyer's  term  for  the  restless  whirling 
mass  of  cares  and  anxieties,  affections,  hopes,  and  griefs,  that  make  up 
the  living  man.  The  law  had  his  body,  and  there  it  lay,  clothed  in 
grave  clothes,  an  awful  witness  to  its  tender  mercy. 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  a  whistling-shop.  Sir  ? "  enquired  Job 
Trotter. 

"■  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  counter  enquiry. 

"  A  vistlin'  shop.  Sir,"  interposed  Mr.  Weller. 

"  What  is  that,  Sam  ?  — A  bird-fancier's.?"  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Bless  your  heart,  no.  Sir,"  replied  Job;  "a  whistling-shop,  Sir, 
is  where  they  sell  spirits."  Mr.  Job  Trotter  briefly  explained  here, 
that  all  persons,  being  prohibited  under  heavy  penalties  from  conveying 
spirits  into  debtors'  prisons,  and  such  commodities  being  highly  prized 
by  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  confined  therein,  it  had  occurred  to  some 
speculative  turnkey  to  connive,  for  certain  lucrative  considerations,  at 
two  or  three  prisoners  retailing  the  favourite  article  of  gin,  for  their 
own  profit  and  advantage. 

**  This  plan  you  see,  Sir,  has  been  gradually  introduced  into  all  the 
prisons  for  debt,"  said  Mr.  Trotter. 


490 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


*'  And  it  has  this  wery  great  advantage,"  said  Sam,  "  that  the 
turnkeys  takes  wery  good  care  to  seize  hold  o'  ev'ry  body  but  them  as  pays 
'em,  that  attempts  the  willainny,  and  ven  it  gets  in  the  papers  they're 
applauded  for  their  wigilance;  so  it  cuts  two  vays — frightens  other 
people  from  the  trade,  and  elewates  their  own  characters." 

*'  Exactly  so,  Mr.  Weller,"  observed  Job. 

*'  Well,  but  are  these  rooms  never  searched  to  ascertain  whether  any 
spirits  are  concealed  in  them  ? "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Cert'nly  they  are,  Sir,"  replied  Sam ;  "  but  the  turnkeys  knows 
before-hand,  and  gives  the  vord  to  the  vistlers,  and  you  may  vistle 
for  it  ven  you  go  to  look." 

By  this  time,  Job  had  tapped  at  a  door,  which  was  opened  by  a  gen- 
tleman with  an  uncombed  head,  who  bolted  it  after  them  when  they 
had  walked  in,  and  grinned  ;  upon  which  Job  grinned,  and  Sam  also  : 
whereupon  Mr.  Pickwick,  thinking  it  might  be  expected  of  him,  kept 
on  smiling  till  the  end  of  the  interview. 

The  gentleman  with  the  uncombed  head  appeared  quite  satisfied  with 
this  mute  announcement  of  their  business ;  and  producing  a  flat  stone 
bottle,  which  might  hold  about  a  couple  of  quarts  from  beneath  his 
bedstead,  he  filled  out  three  glasses  of  gin,  which  Job  Trotter  and  Sam 
disposed  of  in  a  most  workmanlike  manner. 

"  Any  more  ?  "  said  the  whistling  gentleman. 

*'  No  more."  replied  Job  Trotter. 

Mr.  Pickwick  paid;  the  door  was  unbolted,  and  out  they  came;  the 
uncombed  gentleman  bestowing  a  friendly  nod  upon  Mr.  Roker,  who 
happened  to  be  passing  at  the  moment. 

From  this  spot  Mr.  Pickwick  wandered  along  all  the  galleries,  up 
and  down  all  the  staircases,  and  once  again  round  the  whole  area  of  the 
yard.  The  great  body  of  the  prison  population  appeared  to  be  Mivins 
and  Smangle,  and  the  parson,  and  the  butcher,  and  the  leg,  over  and 
over,  and  over  again.  There  was  the  same  squalor,  the  same  turmoil 
and  noise,  the  same  general  characteristics  in  every  corner ;  in  the  best 
and  the  worst  alike.  The  whole  place  seemed  restless  and  troubled ; 
and  the  people  were  crowding  and  flitting  to  and  fro,  like  the  shadows 
in  an  uneasy  dream. 

"I  have  seen  enough,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  threw  himself  into 
a  chair  in  his  little  apartment,  "  My  head  aches  with  these  scenes, 
and  my  heart  too.    Henceforth  I  will  be  a  prisoner  in  my  own  room." 

And  Mr.  Pickwick  stedfastly  adhered  to  this  determination.  For  three 
long  months  he  remained  shut  up  all  day,  only  stealing  out  at  night  to 
breathe  the  air  when  the  greater  part  of  his  fellow  prisoners  were  in  bed 
or  carousing  in  their  rooms.  His  health  was  evidently  beginning  to 
suff^er  from  the  closeness  of  the  confinement,  but  neither  the  often- 
repeated  entreaties  of  Perker  and  his  friends,  nor  the  still  more  fre- 
quently repeated  warnings  and  admonitions  of  Mr.  Samuel  Weller, 
could  induce  him  to  alter  one  jot  of  his  inflexible  resolution. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  491 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

RECORDS  A  TOUCHING  ACT  OF  DELICATE  FEELING,  NOT  UNMIXED 
WITH  PLEASANTRY,  ACHIEVED  AND  PERFORMED  BY  MESSRS. 
DODSON  AND  FOGG. 

It  was  within  a  week  of  the  close  of  the  month  of  July,  that  a 
hackney  cabriolet,  number  unrecorded,  was  seen  to  proceed  at  a  rapid 
pace  up  Gos well- street ;  three  people  were  squeezed  into  it  be- 
sides the  driver,  who  sat,  of  course,  in  his  own  particular  little  dickey  at 
the  side ;  over  the  apron  were  hung  two  shawls,  belonging  to  all  ap- 
pearance to  two  small  vixenish-looking  ladies  under  the  apron,  between 
whom,  compressed  into  a  very  small  compass,  there  was  stowed  away  a 
gentleman  of  heavy  and  subdued  demeanour,  who,  whenever  he  ventured 
to  make  an  observation,  was  snapped  up  short,  by  one  of  the  vixenish 
ladies  before-mentioned.  Lastly,  the  two  vixenish  ladies  and  the  heavy 
gentleman  were  giving  the  driver  contradictory  directions,  all  tending 
to  the  one  point,  that  he  should  stop  at  Mrs.  Bardell's  door,  which  the 
heavy  gentleman  in  direct  opposition  to,  and  defiance  of,  the  vixenish 
ladies,  contended  was  a  green  door  and  not  a  yellow  one. 

"  Stop  at  the  house  with  the  green  door,  driver,"  said  the  heavy 
gentleman. 

"  Oh  !  you  perwerse  creetur  ! "  exclaimed  one  of  the  vixenish  ladies. 
"  Drive  to  the  ouse  with  the  yellow  door,  cabmin." 

Upon  this  the  cabman,  who  in  a  sudden  effort  to  pull  up  at  the  house 
with  the  green  door,  had  pulled  the  horse  up  so  high  that  he  nearly 
pulled  him  backwards  into  the  cabriolet,  let  the  animal's  fore  legs  down 
to  the  ground  again,  and  paused. 

"  Now  vere  am  I  to  pull  up  ?  "  inquired  the  driver.  "  Settle  it  among 
yourselves.     All  I  ask  is,  vere." 

Here  the  contest  was  renewed  with  increased  violence,  and  the  horse 
being  troubled  with  a  fly  on  his  nose,  the  cabman  humanely  employed 
his  leisure  in  lashing  him  about  the  head,  on  the  counter-irritation 
principle. 

"  Most  wotes  carries  the  day,"  said  one  of  the  vixenish  ladies  at 
length.     "  The  ouse  with  the  yellow  door,  cabmin." 

But  after  the  cabriolet  had  dashed  up  in  splendid  style  to  the  house 
with  the  yellow  door,  "  making,"  as  one  of  the  vixenish  ladies  triumph- 
antly said,  "  acterrally  more  noise  than  if  one  had  come  in  one's  own 
carriage" — and  after  the  driver  had  dismounted  to  assist  the  ladies  in 
getting  out,  the  small  round  head  of  IMaster  Thomas  Bardell  was 
thrust  out  of  the  one  pair  window  of  a  house  with  a  red  door  a  few 
numbers  off. 

"  Aggrawatin'  thing,"  said  the  vixenish  lady  last  mentioned,  darting 
a  withering  glance  at  the  heavy  gentleman. 


492  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  My  dear,  it's  not  my  fault,"  said  the  gentleman. 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  you  creetur,  don't,"  retorted  the  lady.  "  The 
house  with  the  red  door^  cabmin.  Oh  !  if  ever  a  woman  was  troubled 
with  a  ruffinly  creetur,  that  takes  a  pride  and  pleasure  in  disgracing  his 
wife  on  every  possible  occasion  afore  strangers,  I  am  that  woman ! " 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Raddle,''  said  the  other  little 
woman,  who  was  no  other  than  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

''  What  have  I  been  a  doing  of?"  asked  Mr.  Raddle. 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  don't,  you  brute,  for  fear  I  should  be  perwoked  to 
forgit  my  sect  and  strike  you,"  said  Mrs.  Raddle. 

While  this  dialogue  was  going  on,  the  driver  was  most  ignominiously 
leading  the  horse  by  the  bridle  up  to  the  house  with  the  red  door,  which 
Master  Bardell  had  already  opened.  Here  was  a  mean  and  low  way 
of  arriving  at  a  friend's  house  ! — no  dashing  up  with  all  the  fire  and  fury 
of  the  animal,  no  jumping  down  of  the  driver  and  loud  knocking  at  the 
door,  no  opening  the  apron  with  a  crash  at  the  very  last  moment  for 
fear  of  the  ladies  sitting  in  a  draught,  and  then  the  man  handing  the 
shawls  out  afterwards  as  if  he  were  a  private  coachman.  The  whole 
edge  of  the  thing  had  been  taken  off — it  was  flatter  than  walking. 

^^Well  Tommy,"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  "how's  your  poor  dear 
mother?" 

"  Oh,  she's  wery  well,"  replied  Master  Bardell.  "  She's  in  the  front 
parlor, — all  ready.  I'm  ready  too,  I  am."  Here  Master  Bardell  put  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  and  jumped  off  and  on  the  bottom  step  of  the 
door. 

"  Is  anybody  else  a  goin'.  Tommy  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  arranging 
her  pelerine. 

"  Mrs.  Sanders  is  going,  she  is,"  replied  Tommy.  "  I'm  a  goin'  too, 
I  am. " 

"  Drat  the  boy,"  said  little  Mrs.  Cluppins.  "  He  thinks  of  nobody 
but  himself.     Here  Tommy,  dear." 

"  Well,"  said  Master  Bardell. 

*^  Who  else  is  a  goin',  lovey  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Cluppins  in  an  insinuating 
manner. 

"  Oh  !  Mrs.  Rogers  is  a  goin',"  replied  Master  Bardell,  opening  his 
eyes  very  wide  as  he  delivered  the  intelligence. 

"  What!  The  lady  as  has  taken  the  lodgings!"  ejaculated  Mrs. 
Cluppins. 

Master  Bardell  put  his  hands  further  down  into  his  pockets,  and 
nodded  exactly  thirty-five  times,  to  imply  that  it  was  the  lady  lodger, 
and  no  other. 

"  Bless  us !"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins.     "  It*s  quite  a  party." 

**  Ah,  if  you  knew  what  was  in  the  cupboard,  you'd  say  so,"  replied 
Master  Bardell. 

"  What  is  there.  Tommy  ? "  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  coaxingly.  **  You'll 
tell  me,  Tommy,  I  know." 

''  No,  I  won't,"  replied  Master  Bardell,  shaking  his  head,  and 
applying  himself  to  the  bottom  step  again.  ♦ 

'"'Drat  the  child!"  muttered  Mrs.  Cluppins.  "What  a  prowokin* 
little  wretch  it  is !     Come,  Tommy,  tell  your  dear  Cluppy." 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  493 

"  IMother  said  I  wasn't  to,"  rejoined  jMaster  Bardell.  "  I'm  a  goin' 
to  Iiave  some,  I  am."'  Cheered  by  this  prospect,  the  precocious  boy 
ap}>lied  liimself  to  his  infantile  tread-mill  with  increased  vigour. 

The  above  examination  of  a  child  of  tender  years  took  place  while 
Mr.  and  INIrs.  Raddle  and  the  cab-driver  were  having  an  altercation 
concerning  the  fare,  which  terminating  at  this  point  in  favour  of  the 
cabman,  Mrs.  Raddle  came  up  tottering. 

"  Lauk,  Mary  Ann!  what's  the  matter?"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

'*  It's  put  me  all  over  in  such  a  tremble,  Betsy,"  replied  Mrs.  Raddle. 
'^  Raddle  ain't  like  a  man;  he  leaves  every  think  to  me." 

This  was  scarcely  fair  upon  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Raddle,  who  had 
been  thrust  aside  by  his  good  lady  in  the  commencement  of  the  dispute, 
and  peremptorily  commanded  to  hold  his  tongue.  He  had  no  oppor- 
tunity of  defending  himself,"  however,  for  JMrs.  Raddle  gave  unequivocal 
signs  of  fainting  ;  which  being  perceived  from  the  parlour  window, 
JMrs.  Bardell,  IMrs.  Sanders,  the  lodger,  and  the  lodger's  servant, 
darted  precipitately  out,  and  conveyed  her  into  the  house,  all  talking 
at  the  same  time,  and  giving  utterance  to  various  expressions  of  pity 
and  condolence,  as  if  she  were  one  of  the  most  suffering  mortals  on 
earth.  Being  conveyed  into  the  front  parlour,  she  Avas  there  deposited 
on  a  sofa;  andjthe  lady  from  the  ]tirst  floor  running  up  to  the  first 
floor,  returned  with  a  bottle  of  sal  volatile,  which,  holding  ^Irs.  Raddle 
tight  round  the  neck,  she  applied  in  all  womanly  kindness  and  pity  to 
her  nose,  until  that  lady  with  many  plunges  and  struggles  was  fain  to 
declare  herself  decidedly  better. 

*'  Ah,  poor  thing  1 "  said  Mrs.  Rogers,  "  I  know  what  her  feelin's  is, 
too  well." 

"Ah,  poor  thing!  so  do  I,"  said  Mrs.  Sanders  :  and  then  all  the 
ladies  moaned  in  unison,  and  said  iheij  knew  what  it  was,  and  they 
pitied  her  from  their  hearts,  they  did  ;  even  the  lodger's  little  servant, 
who  was  thirteen  years  old,  and  three  feet  high,  murmured  her 
sympathy. 

"  But  what's  been  the  matter?"  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  Ah,  what  has  decomposed  you,  ma'am?"  inquired  Mrs.  Rogers. 

"I  have  been  a  good  deal  flurried,"  replied  Mrs.  Raddle,  in  a  re- 
proachful manner.  Thereupon  the  ladies  cast  indignant  looks  at  Mr. 
Raddle. 

•'  Why,  the  fact  is,"  said  that  unhappy  gentleman,  stepping  forward, 
"  when  we  alighted  at  this  door,  a  dispute  arose  with  the  driver  of  the 

cabrioily "     A  loud  scream  from  his  wife  at  the  mention  of  this 

word,  rendered  all  further  explanation  inaudible. 

"  You'd  better  leave  us  to  bring  her  round,  Raddle,"  said  iNIrs.  Clup- 
pins.    "  She'll  never  get  better  as  long  as  you're  here." 

AH  the  ladies  concurred  in  this  opinion  ;  so  'Sir.  Raddle  was  pushed 
out  of  the  room,  and  requested  to  give  himself  an  airing  in  the  back 
yard,  which  he  did  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  Mrs.  Bardell 
announced  to  him,  with  a  solemn  face,  that  he  might  come  in  now,  but 
that  he  must  be  very  careful  how  he  behaved  towards  his  wife.  She 
knew  he  didn't  mean  to  be  unkind  ;  but  INIary  Ann  was  very  far  from 
strong,  and,  if  he  didn't  take  care,  he  might  lose  her  when  he  least 


494 


POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS    OF 


expected  it^,  which  would  be  a  very  dreadful  reflection  for  him  after- 
wards, and  so  on.  All  this,  Mr.  Raddle  heard  with  great  submission, 
and  presently  returned  to  the  parlour  in  a  most  lamb-like  manner. 

"Why,  Mrs.  Rogers,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  "you've  never 
been  introduced,  I  declare.  Mr.  Raddle,  ma'am ;  Mrs.  Cluppins, 
ma'am  ;  Mrs.  Raddle,  ma'am." 

*'  Which  is  Mrs.  Cluppins's  sister,"  suggested  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"Oh,  indeed  ! "  said  Mrs.  Rogers,  graciously; — for  she  was  the  lodger, 
and  her  servant  was  in  waiting,  so  she  was  more  gracious  than  inti- 
mate in  right  of  her  position.     "  Oh,  indeed !" 

Mrs.  Raddle  smiled  sweetly,  Mr.  Raddle  bowed,  and  Mrs.  Cluppins 
said  "  she  was  sure  she  was  very  happy  to  have  a  opportunity  of  being 
known  to  a  lady  which  she  had  heerd  so  much  in  faviour  of,  as  Mrs. 
Rogers" — a  compliment  which  the  last-named  lady  acknowledged  with 
graceful  condescension. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Raddle,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell ;  "  I'm  sure  you  ought  to 
feel  very  much  honoured  at  you  and  Tommy  being  the  only  gentlemen 
to  escort  so  many  ladies  all  the  way  to  the  Spaniard  at  Hampstead. 
Don't  you  think  he  ought,  Mrs.  Rogers,  ma'am?" 

"  Oh,  certainly,  ma'am,"  replied  Mrs.  Rogers ;  after  whom  all  the 
other  ladies  responded  "  Oh,  certainly." 

"  Of  course  I  feel  it,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Raddle,  rubbing  his  hands, 
and  evincing  a  slight  tendency  to  brighten  up  a  little.  "  Indeed, 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  said,  as  we  were  coming  along  in  the 
cabrioily- " 

At  the  recapitulation  of  the  word  which  awakened  so  many  painful 
recollections,  Mrs.  Raddle  applied  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  again, 
and  uttered  a  half-suppressed  scream ;  so  that  Mrs.  Bardell  frowned 
upon  Mr.  Raddle,  to  intimate  that  he  had  better  not  say  anything 
more  ;  and  desired  Mrs.  Rogers's  servant,  with  an  air,  to  "  put  the  wine 
on." 

This  was  the  signal  for  displaying  the  hidden  treasures  of  the  closet, 
which  were  sundry  plates  of  oranges  and  biscuits,  and  a  bottle  of  old- 
crusted  port — that  at  one  and  nine — with  another  of  the  celebrated 
East  India  sherry  at  fourteen -pence,  which  were  all  produced  in 
honour  of  the  lodger,  and  afforded  unlimited  satisfaction  to  everybody. 
After  great  consternation  had  been  excited  in  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Clup- 
pins, bv  an  attempt  on  the  part  of  Tommy  to  recount  how  he  had  been 
cross-examined  regarding  the  cupboard  then  in  action,  (which  was 
fortunately  nipped  in  the  bud  by  his  imbibing  half  a  glass  of  the  old- 
crusted  "  the  wrong  way,"  and  thereby  endangering  his  life  for  some 
seconds,)  the  party  walked  forth  in  quest  of  a  Hampstead  stage.  This 
was  soon  found,  and  in  a  couple  of  hours  they  all  arrived  safely  in  the 
Spaniard  Tea-gardens,  where  the  luckless  Mr.  Raddle's  very  first  act 
nearly  occasioned  his  good  lady  a  relapse,  it  being  neither  more  nor 
less  than  to  order  tea  for  seven ;  whereas  (as  the  ladies  one  and  all 
remarked),  what  could  have  been  easier  than  for  Tommy  to  have 
drank  out  of  anybody's  cup,  or  everybody's,  if  that  was  all,  when  the 
waiter  wasn't  looking,  which  would  have  saved  one  head  of  tea,  and 
the  tea  just  as  good  ! 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  495 

However,  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  the  tea-tray  came  with  seven 
cups  and  saucers,  and  bread  and  butter  on  the  same  scale.  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell  was  unanimously  voted  into  the  chair,  and  Mrs.  Rogers  being 
stationed  on  her  right  hand  and  Mrs.  Raddle  on  her  left,  the  meal 
proceeded  with  great  merriment  and  success. 

"  How  sweet  the  country  is,  to-be-sure  ! "  sighed  Mrs.  Rogers ;  "  I 
almost  wish  I  lived  in  it  always." 

"  Oh,  you  wouldn't  like  that,  Ma'am,"  replied  Mrs.  Bardell,  rather 
hastily ;  for  it  was  not  at  all  advisable,  with  reference  to  the  lodgings, 
to  encourage  such  notions ;  "  you  wouldn't  like  it,  Ma'am." 

"  Oh  !  I  should  think  you  was  a  deal  too  lively  and  sought-after,  to 
be  content  with  the  country,  IMa'am,"  said  little  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

"Perhaps  I  am.  Ma'am.  Perhaps  I  am,"  sighed  the  first-floor 
lodger. 

**  For  lone  people  as  have  got  nobody  to  care  for  them,  or  take  care 
of  them,  or  as  have  been  hurt  in  their  mind,  or  that  kind  of  thing," 
observed  Mr.  Raddle,  plucking  up  a  little  cheerfulness,  and  looking 
round,  '^  the  country  is  all  very  well.  The  country  for  a  wounded 
spirit  they  say." 

Now,  of  all  things  in  the  world  that  the  unfortunate  man  could  have 
said,  any  would  have  been  preferable  to  this.  Of  course  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell burst  into  tears,  and  requested  to  be  led  from  the  table  instantly, 
upon  which  the  affectionate  child  began  to  cry  too,  most  dismally. 

"  Would  any  body  believe.  Ma'am,'*  exclaimed  Mrs.  Raddle,  turn- 
ing fiercely  to  the  first-tloor  lodger,  "  that  a  woman  could  be  married 
to  such  a  unmanly  creetur,  \\'hich  can  tamper  with  a  woman's  feelings  as 
he  does,  every  hour  in  the  day.  Ma'am?  " 

"  My  dear,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Raddle,  "  I  didn't  mean  anything, 
my  dear." 

**  You  didn't  mean.  Sir!"  repeated  Mrs.  Raddle,  with  great  scorn 
and  contempt.  "  Go  away.  I  can't  bear  the  sight  on  you,  you 
brute." 

"You  must  not  flurry  yourself,  Mary  Ann,"  interposed  Mrs.  Clup- 
pins. "  You  really  must  consider  yourself,  my  dear,  which  you  never 
do.  Now  go  away.  Raddle  there's  a  good  soul,  or  you'll  only  aggra- 
vate her.'' 

"  You  had  better  take  your  tea  by  yourself.  Sir,  indeed,"  said  Mrs. 
Rogers,  again  applying  the  smelling-bottle. 

Mrs.  Sanders,  who,  according  to  custom,  was  very  busy  at  the  bread 
and  butter,  expressed  the  same  opinion,  and  IMr.  Raddle  quietly 
retired. 

After  this  there  was  a  great  hoisting  up  of  IMaster  Bardell,  who  was 
rather  a  large  size  for  hugging,  into  his  mother's  arms,  in  which  ope- 
ration he  got  his  boots  in  the  tea-board,  and  occasioned  some  confusion 
among  the  cups  and  saucers.  But  that  description  of  fainting  tits, 
which  is  contagious  among  ladies,  seldom  lasts  long,  so  when  he  had 
been  well  kissed  and  a  little  cried  over,  Mrs.  Bardell  recovered,  set 
him  down  again,  wondered  how  she  could  have  been  so  foolish,  and 
poured  out  some  more  tea. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  sound  of  approaching  wheels  was 


496  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

heard,  and  that  the  ladies,  looking  up^  saw  a  hackney-coach  stop  at 
the  garden -gate. 

*^  More  company/'  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

''It's  a  gentleman,"  said  Mrs.  Raddle. 

''Well,  if  it  ain't  Mr.  Jackson,  the  young  man  from  Dodson  and 
Fogg's ! "  cried  Mrs.  Eardell.  "  Why,  gracious !  Surely  Mr.  Pick- 
wick can't  have  paid  the  damages.'' 

"  Or  hoffered  marriage  !  "  said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

"  Dear  me,  how  slow  the  gentleman  is,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Rogers : 
"  Why  doesn't  he  make  haste  !  " 

As  the  lady  spoke  these  words,  Mr,  Jackson  turned  from  the  coach 
where  he  had  been  addressing  some  observations  to  a  shabby  man  in 
black  leggings,  who  had  just  emerged  from  the  vehicle  with  a  thick 
ash  stick  in  his  hand,  and  made  his  way  to  the  place  where  the  adies 
were  seated;  winding  his  hair  round  the  brim  of  his  hat  as  he  came 
along. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  ?  Has  anything  taken  place,  Mr.  Jack- 
son?" said  Mrs.  Bardell  eagerly. 

"  Nothing  whatever,  Ma'am,"  replied  i\Ir.  Jackson.  "  How  de  do, 
ladies  }  I  have  to  ask  pardon,  ladies,  for  intruding — but  the  law, 
ladies — the  law."  With  this  apology  Mr.  Jackson  smiled,  made  a 
comprehensive  bow,  and  gave  his  hair  another  wind.  Mrs.  Rogers 
whispered  Mrs.  Raddle  that  he  was  really  an  elegant  young  man. 

"  I  called  in  Gos well-street,"  resumed  Jackson,  "  and  hearing  that 
you  were  here,  from  the  slavey,  took  a  coach  and  came  on.  Our  people 
want  you  down  in  the  city  directly,  Mrs.  Bardell.'' 

"  Lor ! "  ejaculated  that  lady,  starting  at  the  sudden  nature  of  the 
communication. 

"Yes,"  said  Jackson,  biting  his  lip.  "It's  very  important  and 
pressing  business,  which  can't  be  postponed  on  any  account.  Indeed, 
Dodson  expressly  said  so  to  me,  and  so  did  Fogg.  I've  kept  the  coach 
on  purpose  for  you  to  go  back  in." 

"  How  very  strange  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bardell. 

The  ladies  agreed  that  it  was  very  strange^  but  were  unanimously  of 
opinion  that  it  must  be  very  important,  or  Dodson  and  Fogg  would 
never  have  sent;  and  further,  that  the  business  being  urgent,  she 
ought  to  repair  to  Dodson  and  Fogg's  without  any  delay. 

There  was  a  certain  degree  of  pride  and  importance  about  being 
wanted  by  one's  lawyers  in  such  a  monstrous  hurry,  that  was  by  no 
means  displeasing  to  iMrs.  Bardell,  especially  as  it  might  be  reasonably 
supposed  to  enhance  her  consequence  in  the  eyes  of  the  first-floor 
lodger.  She  simpered  a  little,  affected  extreme  vexation  and  hesitation, 
and  at  last  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  she  supposed  she  must  go. 

"But  won't  you  refresh  yourself  after  your  walk,  Mr.  Jackson .»* " 
said  Mrs.  Bardell,  persuasively. 

"  Why,  really  there  ain't  much  time  to  lose,"  replied  Jackson ;  "  and 
I've  got  a  friend  here,"  he  continued,  looking  towards  the  man  with 
the  ash  stick. 

*'  Oh,  ask  your  friend  to  come  here,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell.  "Pray 
ask  your  friend  here.  Sir." 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB.  497 

* 

"  Why,  thankee,  I'd  rather  not,"  said  JMr.  Jackson,  with  some  em- 
barrassment of  manner.  ''  He's  not  much  used  to  ladies'  society,  and 
it  makes  him  bashful.  If  you'll  order  the  waiter  to  deliver  him 
anything  short,  he  won't  drink  it  off  at  once,  won't  he  ? — only  try 
him."  Mr.  Jackson's  fingers  wandered  playfully  round  his  nose  at 
this  portion  of  his  discourse,  to  warn  his  hearers  that  he  was  speaking 
ironically. 

The  waiter  was  at  once  despatched  to  the  bashful  gentleman,  and 
the  bashful  gentleman  took  something ;  Mr.  Jackson  also  took  some- 
thing, and  the  ladies  took  something  for  hospitality's  sake.  Mr.  Jackson 
then  said  that  he  was  afraid  it  was  time  to  go  ;  upon  which  Mrs.  Sanders, 
IMrs.  Cluppins,  and  Tommy  (who  it  was  arranged  should  accompany 
Mrs.  Bardell :  leaving  the  others  to  Mr.  Raddle's  protection)  got  into 
the  coach. 

"  Isaac,"  said  Jackson,  as  Mrs.  Bardell  prepared  to  get  in :  looking 
up  at  the  man  with  the  ash  stick,  who  was  seated  on  the  box,  smoking 
a  cigar. 

"  Well/' 

''  This  is  Mrs.  Bardell." 

"  Oh,  I  know'd  that,  long  ago,"  said  the  man. 

Mrs.  Bardell  got  in,  Mr.  Jackson  got  in  after  her,  and  away  they 
drove.  Mrs.  Bardell  could  not  help  ruminating  on  what  Mr.  Jackson's 
friend  had  said.  Shrewd  creatures,  those  lawyers:  Lord  bless  us, 
how  they  iind  people  out ! 

"  Sad  thing  about  these  costs  of  our  people's,  ain't  it,"  said  Jackson, 
when  Mrs.  Cluppins  and  Mrs.  Sanders  had  fallen  asleep  ;  ''  your  bill  of 
costs  I  m^ean." 

"  I'm  very  sorry  they  can't  get  them,"  replied  Mrs.  Bardell.  ^'  But 
if  you  law  gentlemen  do  these  things  on  speculation,  why  you  must  get 
a  loss  now  and  then,  you  know." 

"  You  gave  them  a  cognovit  for  the  amount  of  your  costs  after  the 
trial,  I'm  told,"  said  Jackson. 

"  Yes.     Just  as  a  matter  of  form,"  replied  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  Certainly," replied  Jackson  drily.    "  Quite  a  matter  of  form.  Quite." 

On  they  drove,  and  Mrs.  Bardell  fell  asleep.  She  was  awakened 
after  some  time  by  the  stopping  of  the  coach. 

"  Bless  us !"  said  the  lady,  "  are  we  at  Freeman's  Court  ?" 

"  We're  not  going  quite  so  far,"  replied  Jackson.  *^  Have  the  good- 
ness to  step  out." 

Mrs.  Bardell,  not  yet  thoroughly  awake,  complied.  It  was  a  curious 
place  : — a  large  wall  with  a  gate  in  the  middle,  and  a  gas-light  burning 
inside. 

*'  Now,  ladies,"  cried  the  man  with  the  ash  stick,  looking  into  the 
coach,  and  shaking  Mrs.  Sanders  to  wake  her,  "  Come."  Rousing  her 
friend,  Mrs.  Sanders  alighted.  Mrs.  Bardell,  leaning  on  Jackson's 
arm,  and  leading  Tommy  by  the  hand,  had  already  entered  the  porch. 
They  followed. 

•  The  room  they  turned  into,  was  even  more  odd -looking  than 
the  porch.  Such  a  number  of  men  standing  about !  And  they 
stared  so ! 


498  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS   OP 

*'  What  place  is  this  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Bardell,  pausing. 

*'  Only  one  of  our  public  offices/'  replied  Jackson, hurrying  her  through 
a  door,  and  looking  round  to  see  that  the  other  women  were  following. 
"Look  sharp,  Isaac." 

"  Safe  and  sound,"  replied  the  man  with  the  ash  stick.  The  door 
swung  heavily  after  them,  and  they  descended  a  small  flight  of 
steps. 

"Here  we  are  at  last.  All  right  and  tight,  Mrs.  Bardell !"  said 
Jackson,  looking  exultingly  round. 

'*  What  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  with  a  palpitating  heart. 

''Just  this,"  replied  Jackson,  drawing  her  a  little  on  one  side ;  "don't 
be  frightened,  Mrs.  Bardell.  There  never  was  a  more  delicate  man  than 
Dodson,  ma'am,  or  a  more  humane  one  than  Fogg.  It  was  their  duty 
in  the  way  of  business  to  take  you  in  execution  for  them  costs ;  but 
they  were  anxious  to  spare  your  feelings  as  much  as  they  could.  What 
a  comfort  it  must  be  to  you  to  think  how  it  *s  been  done !  This  is 
the  Fleet,  ma'am.  Wish  you  good  night,  Mrs.  Bardell.  Good  night, 
Tom.my." 

As  Jackson  hurried  away  in  company  with  the  man  with  the  ash 
stick,  another  man,  with  a  key  in  his  hand,  who  had  been  looking  on, 
led  the  bewildered  female  to  a  second  short  flight  of  steps,  leading  to  a 
doorway.  Mrs.  Bardell  screamed  violently ;  Tommy  roared ;  INIrs. 
Cluppins  shrunk  within  herself;  and  Mrs.  Sanders  made  ofl^,  without 
more  ado.  For  there  stood  the  injured  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  his  nightly 
allowance  of  air;  and  beside  him  leant  Samuel  Weller,  who,  seeing  MrSc 
Bardell,  took  his  hat  oflf  with  mock  reverence,  while  his  master  turned 
indignantly  on  his  heel. 

"  Don't  bother  the  woman,"  said  the  turnkey  to  Weller;  ''she's 
just  come  in." 

"  A  pris'ner!"  said  Sam,  quickly  replacing  his  hat.     "  Who's  the 
plaintives  ?     What  for  r     Speak  up,  old  feller." 
*' Dodson  and  Fogg,"  replied  the  man;  "execution  on  cognovit  for  costs." 

"  Here  Job,  Job,"  shouted  Sam,  dashing  into  the  passage,  "  run 
to  Mr.  Perker's,  Job;  /  want  him  directly.  I  see  some  good  in  this. 
Here's  a  game.     Hooray !     Vere's  the  gov'nor  }" 

But  there  was  no  reply  to  these  inquiries,  for  Job  had  started 
furiously  oflf,  the  instant  he  received  his  commission,  and  Mrs.  Bardell 
had  fainted  in  real  downright  earnest. 


r:r 


^ 


\ 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  499 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

is  chiefly  devoted  to  matters  op  business,  and  the  tem- 
poral advantage  of  dodson  and  fogg. mr.  winkle  re- 
appears under  extraordinary  circuxmstances  ;  and  mr. 
Pickwick's  benevolence  proves  stronger  than  his  ob- 
stinacy. 

Job  Trotter,  abating  nothing  of  his  speed,  ran  up  Holbom,  some- 
times in  the  middle  of  the  road,  sometimes  on  the  pavement,  and  some- 
times in  the  gutter,  as  the  chances  of  getting  along  varied  with  the 
press  of  men,  women,  children,  and  coaches,  in  each  division  of  the 
thoroughfare,  and,  regardless  of  all  obstacles,  stopped  not  for  an  instant 
until  he  reached  the  gate  of  Gray's  Inn.  Notwithstanding  all  the  ex- 
pedition he  had  used,  however,  the  gate  had  been  closed  a  good  half 
hour  when  he  reached  it,  and  by  the  time  he  had  discovered  Mr. 
Perker's  laundress,  who  lived  with  a  married  daughter,  who  had  be- 
stowed her  hand  upon  a  non-resident  waiter,  and  occupied  the  one- 
pair  of  some  number,  in  some  street,  closely  adjoining  to  some  brewery, 
somewhere  behind  Gray's  Inn  Lane,  it  was  within  fifteen  minutes  of 
the  time  of  closing  the  prison  for  the  night.  Mr.  Lowten  had  still  to 
be  ferreted  out  from  the  back  parlour  of  the  Magpie  and  Stump ;  and 
Job  had  scarcely  accomplished  this  object,  and  communicated  Sam 
Weller's  message,  than  the  clock  struck  ten. 

"  There,"  said  Lowten,  "  it's  too  late  now.  You  can't  get  in  to- 
night ;  you've  got  the  key  of  the  street,  my  friend." 

"  Never  mind  me,"  replied  Job,  "  I  can  sleep  anywhere.  But  won't 
it  be  better  to  see  Mr.  Perker  to-night,  so  that  we  may  be  there,  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning .?" 

'*  Why,"  responded  Lowten,  after  a  little  consideration,  "  if  it  was 
in  any  body  else's  case,  Perker  wouldn't  be  best  pleased  at  my  going 
up  to  his  house,  but  as  it's  Mr.  Pickwick's,  I  think  I  may  venture  to 
take  a  cab  and  charge  it  to  the  office."  Deciding  upon  this  line  of 
conduct,  Mr.  Lowten  took  up  his  hat,  and  begging  the  assembled  com- 
pany to  appoint  a  deputy  chairman  duringhis  temporary  absence,  led  the 
way  to  the  nearest  coach  stand,  and  summoning  the  cab  of  most  pro- 
mising appearance,  directed  the  driver  to  repair  to  Montague  Place, 
Russell  Square. 

Mt.  Perker  had  had  a  dinner  party  that  day,  as  was  testified  by  the 
appearance  of  lights  in  the  drawing-room  windows,  the  sound  of  an 
improved  grand  piano,  and  an  improveable  cabinet  voice  issuing  there- 
from ;  and  a  rather  overpowering  smell  of  meat  which  pervaded  the 
steps  and  entry.  In  fact  a  couple  of  very  good  country  agencies  hap- 
pening to  come  up  to  town  at  the  same  time,  an  agreeable  little 
party  had  been  got  together  to  meet  them,  comprising  Mr.  Snicks  the 


500  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Life  Office  Secretary,  Mr.  Prosee  the  eminent  counsel,  three  soli- 
citors, one  commissioner  of  bankrupts,  a  special  pleader  from  the 
Temple,  a  small-eyed  peremptory  young  gentleman,  his  pupil,  who  had 
written  a  lively  book  about  the  law  of  demises,  with  a  vast  quantity  of 
marginal  notes  and  references ;  and  several  other  eminent  and  distin- 
guished personages.  From  this  society  little  Mr.  Perker  detached  him- 
self on  his  clerk  being  announced  in  a  whisper ;  and  repairing  to  the 
dining-room,  there  found  Mr.  Lowten  and  Job  Trotter  looking  very- 
dim  and  shadowy  by  the  light  of  a  kitchen  candle,  which  the  gentleman 
who  condescended  to  appear  in  plush  shorts  and  cottons  for  a  quarterly 
stipend,  had,  with  a  becoming  contempt  for  the  clerk  and  all  things 
appertaining  to  "  the  office,"  placed  upon  the  table. 

*'  Now,    Lowten,"   said    little    Mr,    Perker,    shutting    the    door, 
**  what's  the  matter?     No  important  letter  come  in  a  parcel,  is  there.''" 
"  No,  Sir,"  replied  Lowten.    "This  is  a  messenger  from  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, Sir." 

"  From  Pickwick,  eh  ?"  said  the  little  man,  turning  quickly  to  Job. 
"  Well ;  what  is  it .?" 

"  Dodson  and  Fogg  have  taken  Mrs.  Bardell  in  execution  for  her 
costs.  Sir,"  said  Job. 

*'  No!"  exclaimed  Perker,  putting  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
reclining  against  the  sideboard. 

"  Yes,"  said  Job.  "  It  seems  they  got  a  cognovit  out  of  her  for  the 
amount  of 'em,  directly  after  the  trial." 

"  By  Jove!"  said  Perker,  taking  both  hands  out  of  his  pockets  and 
striking  the  knuckles  of  his  right  against  the  palm  of  his  left,  empha- 
tically* "  those  are  the  cleverest  scamps  I  ever  had  any  thing  to  do 
with  ! " 

'^  The  sharpest  practitioners  /  ever  knew.  Sir,"  observed  Lowten. 
.    "  Sharp!"  echoed  Perker.     "  There's  no  knowing  where  to  have 
them." 

'*  Very  true.  Sir,  there  is  not,''  replied  Lowten ;  and  then  both 
master  and  man  pondered  for  a  few  seconds  with  animated  counte- 
nances, as  if  they  were  reflecting  upon  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
ingenious  discoveries  that  the  intellect  of  man  had  ever  made.  When 
they  had  in  some  measure  recovered  from  their  trance  of  admiration. 
Job  Trotter  discharged  himself  of  the  rest  of  his  commission.  Perker 
nodded  his  head  thoughtfully,  and  pulled  out  his  watch. 

"  At  ten  precisely  I  will  be  there,"  said  the  little  man.     "  Sam  is 
quite  right.     Tell  him  so.     Will  you  take  a  glass  of  wine,  Lowten?" 
"  No,  thank  you.  Sir." 

"  You  mean  yes,  I  think,*'  said  the  little  man,  turning  to  the  side- 
board for  a  decanter  and  glasses. 

As  Lowten  did  mean  yes,  he  said  no  more  upon  the  subject,  but  en- 
quired of  Job,  in  an  audible  whisper,  whether  the  portrait  of  Perker, 
which  hung  opposite  the  fire-place,  wasii  t  a  wonderful  likeness,  to 
which  Job  of  course  replied  that  it  was.  The  wine  being  by  this  time 
poured  out,  Lowten  drank  to  Mrs.  Perker  and  the  children,  and  Job 
to  Perker.  The  gentleman  in  the  plush  shorts  and  cottons  considering 
it  no  part  of  his  duty  to  show  the  people  from  the  office  out,  con- 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  501 

sistently  declined  to  answer  the  bell,  and  they  showed  themselves  out. 
The  attorney  betook  himself  to  his  drawing-room,  the  clerk  to  the 
Magpie  and  Stump,  and  Job  to  Coveat  Garden  Market  to  spend  the 
night  in  a  vegetable  basket. 

Punctually  at  the  appointed  hour  next  morning  the  good-humoured 
little  attorney  tapped  at  IMr.  Pickwick's  door,  which  was  opened  with 
great  alacrity  by  Sam  Weller. 

**  Mr.  Perker,  Sir,"  said  Sam,  announcing  the  visitor  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, who  was  sitting  at  the  window  in  a  thoughtful  attitude. 
"  Wery  glad  you've  looked  in  accidentally,  Sir.  I  rayther  think  the 
gov'ner  vants  to  have  a  vord  and  a  half  vith  you,  Sir.*' 

Perker  bestowed  a  look  of  intelligence  upon  Sam,  intimating  that  he 
understood  he  was  not  to  say  he  had  been  sent  for:  and  beckoning  him 
to  approach,  whispered  briefly  in  his  ear. 

"  Vy,  you  don't  mean  that  'ere,  Sir  ?''  said  Sam,  starting  back  in 
excessive  surprise. 

Perker  nodded  and  smiled. 

Mr.  Samuel  Weller  looked  at  the  little  lawyer,  then  at  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, then  at  the  ceiling,  then  at  Perker  again  ;  grinned,  laughed  out- 
right, and  finally,  catching  up  his  hat  from  the  carpet,  without  further 
explanation  disappeared. 

"  What  does  this  mean?"  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  Perker 
with  astonishment.  "  What  has  put  Sam  into  this  most  extraordinary 
state  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing,"  replied  Perker.  "  Come  my  dear  Sir, 
draw  up  your  chair  to  the  table.     1  have  a  good  deal  to  say  to  you.'' 

"  What  papers  are  those?"  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the  little  man 
deposited  on  the  table  a  small  bundle  of  documents  tied  with  red  tape. 

"  The  papers  in  Bardell  and  Pickwick,"  replied  Perker,  undoing 
the  knot  with  his  teeth. 

Mr.  Pickwick  grated  the  legs  of  his  chair  against  the  ground  ;  and 
throwing  himself  into  it,  folded  his  hands  and  looked  sternly — if  Mr. 
Pickwick  ever  could  look  sternly — at  his  legal  friend. 

'*  You  don't  like  to  hear  the  name  of  the  case  ?"  said  the  little  man, 
still  busying  himself  with  the  knot. 

"  No,  I  do  not  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"  Sorry  for  that,"  resumed  Perker,  ^'  because  it  will  form  the  subject 
of  our  conversation." 

"  I  would  rather  that  the  subject  was  never  mentioned  between  us, 
Perker,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick  hastily. 

"  Pooh  pooh,  my  dear  Sir,"  said  the  little  man,  untying  the  bundle, 
and  glancing  eagerly  at  Mr.  Pickwick  out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes. 
"  It  must  be  mentioned.  I  have  come  here  on  purpose.  Now,  are 
you  ready  to  hear  what  I  have  to  say,  my  dear  Sir?  No  hurry  ;  if  you 
are  not,  I  can  wait.  I  have  got  this  morning's  paper  here.  Your 
time  shall  be  mine.  There."  Hereupon  the  little  man  threw  one  leg 
over  the  other,  and  made  a  show  of  beginning  to  read,  with  great 
composure  and  application. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  sigh,  but  softening  into  a 
smile  at  the  same  time.  *'  Say  what  you  have  to  say ;  it's  the  old 
story  I  suppose  ?  " 

N    N    2 


502  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  With  a  difference,  my  dear  Sir ;  with  a  difference,"  rejoined 
Perker,  deliberately  folding  up  the  paper  and  putting  it  into  his 
pocket  again.  "  Mrs.  Bardell,  the  plaintiff  in  the  action,  is  within 
these  walls,  Sir." 

"  I  know  it,"  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  reply. 

"  Very  good,"  retorted  Perker.  "  And  you  know  how  she  comes 
here^  I  suppose ;  I  mean  on  what  grounds,  and  at  whose  suit  ?  " 

*'  Yes  ;  at  least  I  have  heard  Sam's  account  of  the  matter,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  with  affected  carelessness. 

"Sam's  account  of  the  matter,"  replied  Perker,  "is,  I  will  venture 
to  say,  a  perfectly  correct  one.  Well  now,  my  dear  Sir,  the  first 
question  I  have  to  ask,  is,  whether  this  woman  is  to  remain  here  ?  " 

"  To  remain  here  !"  echoed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"To  remain  here,  my  dear  Sir,"  rejoined  Perker,  leaning  back  in 
his  chair  and  looking  steadily  at  his  client. 

*' How  can  you  ask  me?"  said  that  gentleman.  "It  rests  with 
Dodson  and  Fogg ;  you  know  that  very  well." 

"  1  know  nothing  of  the  kind,"  retorted  Perker  firmly.  "  It  does 
720/  rest  with  Dodson  and  Fogg ;  you  know  the  men,  my  dear  Sir,  as 
v.-r^l  as  I  do.     It  rests  solely,  wholly,  and  entirely  with  you." 

"  With  me!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  rising  nervously  from  his 
chair,  and  reseating  himself  directly  afterwards. 

The  little  man  gave  a  double  knock  on  the  lid  of  his  snuff-box, 
opened  it,  took  a  great  pinch,  shut  it  up  again,  and  repeated  the  words 
«  —With  you." 

"  I  say,  my  dear  Sir,"  pursued  the  little  man,  who  seemed  to  gather 
confidence  from  the  snuff;  "1  say  that  her  speedy  liberation  or  per- 
petual imprisonment  rests  with  you,  and  with  you  alone.  Hear  me 
out,  my  dear  Sir,  if  you  please,  and  do  not  be  so  very  energetic,  for  it 
will  only  put  you  into  a  perspiration  and  do  no  good  whatever.  I  say," 
continued  Perker,  checking  off  each  position  on  a  different  finger,  as 
he  laid  it  down  ;  "  I  say  that  nobody  but  you  can  rescue  her  from 
this  den  of  wretchedness  ;  and  that  you  can  only  do  that,  by  paying 
the  costs  of  this  suit — both  of  plaintiff  and  defendant — into  the  hands 
of  these  Freeman  Court  sharks.     Now  pray  be  quiet,  my  dear  Sir." 

Mr.  Pickwick,  whose  face  had  been  undergoing  most  surprising 
changes  during  this  speech,  and  who  was  evidently  on  the  verge  of  a 
strong  burst  of  indignation,  calmed  his  wrath  as  well  as  he  could  ;  and 
Perker,  strengthening  his  argumentative  powers  with  another  pinch  of 
snuff,  proceeded. 

"  I  have  seen  the  woman  this  morning.  By  paying  the  costs,  you 
can  obtain  a  full  release  and  discharge  from  the  damages ;  and  further 
— this  I  know  is  a  far  greater  object  of  consideration  with  you,  my 
dear  Sir — a  voluntary  statement  under  her  hand,  in  the  form  of  a  letter 
to  me,  that  this  business  was,  from  the  very  first,  fomented  and  en- 
couraged and  brought  about,  by  these  men,  Dodson  and  Fogg ;  that 
she  deeply  regrets  ever  having  been  the  instrument  of  annoyance  or 
injury  to  you ;  and  that  she  entreats  me  to  intercede  with  you,  and 
implore  your  pardon." 

*'  If  1  pay  her  costs  for  her,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  indignantly  ;  "  a 
valuable  document,  indeed  \" 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB.  503 

"  No  *  i/*'  in  the  case,  my  dear  Sir,"  said  Perker,  triumphantly. 
**  There  is  the  very  letter  I  speak  of.  Brought  to  my  office  by  another 
woman  at  nine  o'clock  this  morning,  before  1  had  set  foot  in  this  place, 
or  held  any  communication  with  Mrs.  Bardell,  upon  my  honour/' 
And  selecting  the  letter  from  the  bundle,  the  little  lawyer  laid  it  at 
Mr.  Pickwick's  elbow,  and  took  snuff  for  two  consecutive  minutes 
without  winking. 

"  Is  this  all  you  have  to  say  to  me  ?  "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick, 
mildly. 

"  Not  quite,"  replied  Perker.  "  I  cannot  undertake  to  say  at  this 
moment,  whether  the  wording  of  the  cognovit,  the  nature  of  the  osten- 
sible consideration,  and  the  proof  we  can  get  together  about  the  whole 
conduct  of  the  suit,  will  be  sufficient  to  justify  an  indictment  for  con- 
spiracy. I  fear  not,  my  dear  Sir  ;  they  are  too  clever  for  that,  I  doubt. 
1  do  mean  to  say,  however,  that  the  whole  facts,  taken  together,  will 
be  sufficient  to  justify  you  in  the  minds  of  all  reasonable  men.  And 
now,  my  dear  Sir,  I  put  it  to  you.  This  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds, 
or  whatever  it  may  be — take  it  in  round  numbers  — is  nothing  to  you. 
A  jury  has  decided  against  you  ;  well,  their  verdict  is  wrong,  but  still 
they  decided  as  they  thought  right,  and  it  is  against  you.  You  have  now 
an  opportunity,  on  easy  terms,  of  placing  yourself  in  a  much  higher 
position  than  you  ever  could  by  remaining  here ;  which  would  only  be 
imputed  by  people  who  didn't  know  you  to  sheer,  dogged,  wrong- 
headed,  brutal  obstinacy  :  nothing  else,  my  dear  Sir,  believe  me.  Can 
you  hesitate  to  avail  yourself  of  it,  when  it  restores  you  to  your  friends, 
your  old  pursuits,  your  health  and  amusements ;  when  it  liberates  your 
faithful  and  attached  servant,  whom  you  otherwise  doom  to  imprison- 
ment for  the  whole  of  your  life  ?  and  above  all,  when  it  enables  you  to 
take  the  very  magnanimous  revenge — which  I  know,  my  dear  Sir,  is 
one  after  your  own  heart — of  releasing  this  woman  from  a  scene  of 
misery  and  debauchery,  to  which  no  man  should  ever  be  consigned  if 
I  had  my  will,  but  the  infliction  of  which,  on  any  female,  is  frightful 
and  barbarous.  Now  I  ask  you,  my  dear  Sir,  not  only  as  your  legal 
adviser,  but  as  your  very  true  friend,  will  you  let  slip  the  occasion  of 
attaining  all  these  objects  and  doing  all  this  good,  for  the  paltry  con- 
sideration of  a  few  pounds  finding  their  way  into  the  pockets  of  a  couple 
of  rascals,  to  whom  it  makes  no  manner  of  difference,  except  that  the 
more  they  gain  the  more  they'll  seek,  and  so  the  sooner  be  led  into  some 
piece  of  knavery  that  must  end  in  a  crash  ?  I  have  put  these  considera- 
tions to  you,  my  dear  Sir,  very  feebly  and  imperfectly,  but  I  ask  you 
to  think  of  them — turn  them  over  in  your  mind  as  long  as  you  please : 
I  wait  here  most  patiently  for  your  answer." 

Before  Mr.  Pickwick  could  reply,  before  Mr.  Perker  had  taken  one 
twentieth  part  of  the  snuff  which  so  unusually  long  an  address  im- 
peratively required  to  be  followed  up  with,  there  was  a  low  murmuring 
of  voices  outside,  and  then  a  hesitating  knock  at  the  door. 

"  Dear,  dear,''  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been  evidently 
roused  by  his  friend's'appeal ;  "'  what  an  annoyance  that  door  is  !  Who 
is  that  ?" 

"  Me,  Sir,"  replied  Sam  Weller,  putting  in  his  head. 


"504  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

*'  I  can't  speak  to  you  just  now,  Sam/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  I  am 
'«ngafred  at  this  moment,  Sam." 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  Sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.  "  But  here's  a  lady 
here.  Sir,  as  says  she's  som.ethin'  wery  partickier  to  disclose." 

'^  I  can't  see  any  lady,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  whose  mind  was 
filled  with  visions  of  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  I  vouldn't  make  too  sure  o'  that.  Sir,"  urged  Mr.  Weller,  shaking 
his  head.  ''  If  you  know'd  who  was  near.  Sir,  I  rayther  think  you'd 
change  your  note  ;  as  the  hawk  remarked  to  himself  vith  a  cheerful 
laugh,  ven  he  heerd  the  robin  redbreast  a  singin'  round  the  corner." 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwicl?. 

''  Vill  you  see  her.  Sir  ?  "  asked  Mr. Weller,  holding  the  door  in  his 
hand,  as  if  he  had  got  some  curious  live  animal  on  the  other  side. 

"  I  suppose  I  must,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  Perker. 

"  Veil  then,  all  in  to  begin,"  cried  Sam.  "  Sound  the  gong,  draw 
up  the  curtain,  and  enter  the  two  con-spirators." 

As  Sam  Weller  spoke,  he  threw  the  door  open,  and  there  rushed 
tumultuously  into  the  room,  Mr.  Nathaniel  Winkle,  leading  after  him 
by  the  hand  the  identical  young  lady  who,  at  Dingley  Dell,  had  worn 
the  boots  with  the  fur  round  the  tops ;  and  who,  now  a  very  pleasing 
compound  of  blushes  and  confusion,  and  lilac  silk,  and  a  smart  hat,  and 
a  rich  lace  veil,  looked  prettier  than  ever. 

"  Miss  Arabella  Allen  !  "  exclaim.ed  Mr.  Pickwick,  rising  from  his 
chair. 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  dropping  on  his  knees.  ^*  Mrs.  Winkle. 
Pardon,  my  dear  friend,  pardon." 

Mr.  Pickwick  could  scarcely  believe  the  evidence  of  his  own  senses, 
and  perhaps  would  not  have  done  so,  but  for  the  corroborative  testimony 
afforded  by  the  smiling  countenance  of  Perker,  and  the  bodily  presence, 
in  the  background,  of  Sam  and  the  pretty  housemaid,  who  appeared 
to  contemplate  the  proceedings  with  the  liveliest  satisfaction. 

"  Oh,  JNIr.  Pickwick,"  said  Arabella  in  a  low  voice,  as  if  alarmed  at 
the  silence,  ^'  can  you  forgive  my  imprudence  ?  '' 

Mr.  Pickwick  returned  no  verbal  response  to  this  appeal,  but  he 
took  off  his  spectacles  in  great  haste,  and  seizing  both  the  young  lady's 
hands  in  his,  kissed  her  a  great  number  of  times — perhaps  a  greater 
number  than  was  absolutely  necessary — and  then,  still  retaining  one  of 
her  hands,  told  Mr.  Winkle  he  was  an  audacious  young  dog,  and  bade 
him  get  up,  which  Mr.  Winkle,  who  had  been  for  some  seconds 
scratching  his  nose  with  the  brim  of  his  hat  in  a  penitent  manner,  did  ; 
whereupon  Mr.  Pickwick  slapped  him  on  the  l>ack  several  times,  and 
then  shook  hands  heartily  with  Perker,  who,  not  to  be  behindhand  in 
the  compliments  of  the  occasion,  saluted  both  the  bride  and  the  pretty 
housemaid  with  right  good  will,  and  having  wrung  Mr.  Winkle's  hand 
most  cordially,  wound  up  his  demonstrations  of  joy,  by  taking  snufF 
enough  to  set  any  half  dozen  men,  with  ordinarily  constructed  noses,  a 
sneezing  for  life. 

*'  Why,  my  dear  girl,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''  how  has  all  this  come 
about  ?  Come,  sit  down,  and  let  me  hear  it  all.  How  well  she  looks, 
doesn't  she  Perker  ?  "  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  surveying  Arabella's  face 


THE    PfCKWICK    CLUB.  505 

with  a  look  of  as  much  pride  and  exultation,  as  if  she  had  been  his  own 
daughter. 

"  Delightful,  my  dear  Sir,"  replied  the  little  man.  "  If  I  were  not 
a  married  man  myself,  I  should  be  disposed  to  envy  you,  you  dog,  I 
should."  Thus  expressing  himself,  the  little  lawyer  gave  Mr.  Winkle 
a  poke  in  the  chest,  which  that  gentleman  reciprocated  ;  after  which 
they  both  laughed  very  loudly,  but  not  so  loudly  as  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller,  who  had  just  relieved  his  feelings  by  kissing  the  pretty  house- 
maid under  cover  of  the  cupboard  door. 

"I  can  never  be  grateful  enough  to  you,  Sam,  I  am  sure,"  said 
Arabella,  with  the  sweetest  smile  imaginable.  *'  I  shall  not  forget  your 
exertions  in  the  garden  at  Clifton." 

"Don't  say  nothin'  wotever  about  it,  Ma'm,"  replied  Sam.  "I  only 
assisted  natur,  IMa'm  ;  as  the  doctor  said  to  the  boy's  mother,  arter  he'd 
bled  him  to  death." 

"  Mary,  my  dear,  sit  down,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  cutting  short  these 
compliments.     "  Now  then — how  long  have  you  been  married,  eh  }" 

Arabella  looked  bashfully  at  her  lord  and  master,  who  replied,  "  Only 
three  days." 

"Only  three  days,  eh?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "Why,  what  have 
you  been  doing  these  three  months  ?  " 

"Ah,  to  be  sure,"  interposed  Perker ;  "  come,  account  for  this  idle- 
ness. You  see  Pickwick's  only  astonishment  is,  that  it  wasn't  all  over 
months  ago." 

"  Why  the  fact  is,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  looking  at  his  blushing 
young  wife,  '*  that  I  could  not  persuade  Bella  to  run  away  for  a  long 
time ;  and  when  I  had  persuaded  her,  it  was  a  long  time  more  before 
we  could  find  an  opportunity.  Mary  had  to  give  a  month's  warning, 
too,  before  she  could  leave  her  place  next  door,  and  we  couldn't  possibly 
have  done  it  without  her  assistance." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  by  this  time  had 
resumed  his  spectacles,  and  was  looking  from  Arabella  to  Winkle,  and 
from  Winkle  to  Arabella,  with  as  much  delight  depicted  in  his  coun- 
tenance as  warm-heartedness  and  kindly  feeling  can  communicate  to 
the  human  face — "upon  my  word!  you  seem  to  have  been  very 
systematic  in  your  proceedings.  And  is  your  brother  acquainted  with, 
all  this,  my  dear  .'* " 

"  Ch,  no,  no,"  replied  Arabella,  changing  colour.  "  Dear  Mr. 
Pickwick,  he  must  only  know  it  from  you — from  your  lips  alone.  He 
is  so  violent,  so  prejudiced,  and  has  been  so — so  anxious  in  behalf  of 
his  friend,  Mr.  Sawyer,"  added  Arabella,  looking  down,  "  that  1  fear 
the  consequences  dreadfully." 

"Ah,  to  be  sure,"  said  Perker,  gravely.  "You  must  take  this 
matter  in  hand  for  them,  my  dear  Sir.  These  young  men  will  respect 
you  when  they  would  listen  to  nobody  else.  You  must  prevent  mischief, 
my  dear  Sir.  Hot  blood — hot  blood."  And  the  little  man  took  a 
warning  pinch,  and  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"  You  forget,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  gently,  "  you  forget 
that  I  am  a  prisoner." 

"No,  indeed  I  do  not,  my  dear  Sir,"  replied  Arabella.     "I  never 


506  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

have  forgotten  it ;  never  ceased  to  think  how  great  your  sufferings  must 
have  been  in  this  shocking  place,  but  I  hoped  that  what  no  consideration 
for  yourself  would  induce  you  to  do,  a  regard  to  our  happiness  might. 
If  my  brother  hears  of  this  first  from  you,  I  feel  certain  we  shall  be 
reconciled.  He  is  my  only  relation  in  the  world,  Mr.  Pickwick,  and 
unless  you  plead  for  me,  I  fear  I  have  lost  even  him.  I  have  done 
wrong — very,  very  wrong,  I  know."  Here  poor  Arabella  hid  her  face 
in  her  handkerchief,  and  wept  bitterly. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  nature  was  a  good  deal  worked  upon  by  these  same 
tears,  but  when  Mrs.  Winkle,  drying  her  eyes,  took  to  coaxing  and 
entreating  in  the  sweetest  tones  of  a  very  sweet  voice,  he  became  par- 
ticularly restless,  and  evidently  undecided  how  to  act,  as  was  evinced 
by  sundry  nervous  rubbings  of  his  spectacle-glasses,  nose,  tights,  head, 
and  gaiters. 

Taking  advantage  of  these  symptoms  of  indecision,  Mr.  Perker  (to 
whom  it  appeared  the  young  couple  had  driven  straight  that  morning) 
urged  with  legal  point  and  shrewdness  that  Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  was 
still  unacquainted  with  the  important  rise  in  life's  flight  of  steps  which 
his  son  had  taken;  that  the  future  expectations  of  the  said  son  depended 
entirely  upon  the  said  Winkle  senior  continuing  to  regard  him  with 
undiminished  feelings  of  affection  and  attachment,  which  it  was  very 
unlikely  he  would  do  if  this  great  event  were  long  kept  a  secret  from 
him  ;  that  Mr.  Pickwick  repairing  to  Bristol  to  seek  Mr.  Allen,  might 
with  equal  reason  repair  to  Birmingham  to  seek  Mr.  Winkle,  senior ; 
lastly,  that  Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  had  good  right  and  title  to  consider 
Mr.  Pickwick  as  in  some  degree  the  guardian  and  adviser  of  his  son, 
and  that  it  consequently  behoved  that  gentleman,  and  was  indeed  due 
to  his  personal  character,  to  acquaint  the  aforesaid  Winkle,  senior, 
personally,  and  by  word  of  mouth,  with  the  whole  circumstances  of  the 
case,  and  with  the  share  he  had  taken  in  the  transaction. 

Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  arrived  most  opportunely  in  this 
stage  of  the  pleadings,  and  as  it  was  necessary  to  explain  to  them  all 
that  had  occurred,  together  with  the  various  reasons  pro  and  con,  the 
whole  of  the  arguments  were  gone  over  again,  after  which  everybody 
urged  every  argument  in  his  own  way  and  at  his  own  length.  And 
at  last  Mr.  Pickwick,  fairly  argued  and  remonstrated  out  of  all  his 
resolutions,  and  being  in  imminent  danger  of  being  argued  and  remon- 
strated out  of  his  wits,  caught  Arabella  in  his  arms,  and  declaring  that 
she  was  a  very  amiable  creature,  and  that  he  didn't  know  how  it  was, 
but  he  had  always  been  very  fond  of  her  from  the  first,  said  he  could 
never  find  it  in  his  heart  to  stand  in  the  way  of.  young  people's  happi- 
ness, and  they  might  do  with  him  as  they  pleased. 

Mr.  Weller's  first  act,  on  hearing  this  concession,  was  to  dispatch 
Job  Trotter  to  the  illustrious  Mr.  Pell,  with  an  authority  to  deliver  to 
the  bearer  the  formal  discharge  which  his  prudent  parent  had  had  the 
foresight  to  leave  in  the  hands  of  that  learned  gentleman,  in  case  it 
should  be  at  any  time  required  on  an  emergency ;  his  next  proceeding 
was  to  invest  his  whole  stock  of  ready  money  in  the  purchase  of  five- 
and-twenty  gallons  of  mild  porter,  wliich  he  himself  dispensed  on  the 
racket  ground  to  everybody  who  would  partake  of  it;  this  done,  he 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  507 

hurra'd  in  divers  parts  of  the  building  until  he  had  lost  his  voice, 
and  then  quietly  relapsed  into  his  usual  collected  and  philosophical 
condition. 

At  three  o'clock  that  afternoon,  IMr.  Pickwick  took  a  last  look  at 
his  little  room,  and  made  his  way  as  well  as  he  could,  through  the 
throng  of  debtors  who  pressed  eagerly  forward  to  shake  him  by  the 
hand,  until  he  reached  the  lodge  steps.  He  turned  here  to  look  about 
him,  and  his  eye  lightened  as  he  did  so.  In  all  the  crowd  of  wan 
emaciated  faces,  he  saw  not  one  which  was  not  the  happier  for  his 
sympathy  and  charity. 

*'  Perker,"  said  JNIr.  Pickwick,  beckoning  one  young  man  towards 
him,  "  this  is  Mr.  Jingle,  whom  I  spoke  to  you  about." 

*'  Very  good,  my  dear  Sir,"  replied  Perker,  looking  hard  at  Jingle. 
''  You  will  see  me  again,  young  man,  to-morrow.  I  hope  you  may 
live  to  remember  deeply  what  I  shall  have  to  communicate.  Sir." 

Jingle  bowed  respectfully,  trembled  very  much  as  he  took  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's proffered  hand,  and  withdrew. 

"  Job  you  know,  I  think?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  presenting  that  gen- 
tleman. 

"  1  know  the  rascal,"  replied  Perker,  good-humouredly.  "  See  after 
your  friend,  and  be  in  the  way  to-morrow  at  one.  Do  you  hear?  Now, 
is  there  anything  more  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  You  have  delivered  the 
little  parcel  I  gave  you  for  your  old  landlord,  Sam  ?  " 

"  1  have.  Sir,"  replied  Sam.  '^  He  bust  out  a  cryin',  Sir,  and  said 
you  wos  wery  gen'rous  and  thoughtful,  and  he  only  wished  you  could 
have  him  innockilated  for  a  gallopin'  consumption,  for  his  old  friend  as 
had  lived  here  so  long  wos  dead,  and  he'd  noveres  to  look  for  another." 

"  Poor  fellow,  poor  fellow !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  **  God  bless  you, 
my  friends !" 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  uttered  this  adieu,  the  crowd  raised  a  loud  shout, 
and  many  among  them  were  pressing  forward  to  shake  him  by  the  hand 
again,  when  he  drew  his  arm  through  Perker's,  and  hurried  from  the 
prison,  far  more  sad  and  melancholy,  for  the  moment,  than  when  he 
had  first  entered  it.  Alas  !  how  many  sad  and  unhappy  beings  had  he 
left  behind  !  and  how  many  of  them  lie  caged  there,  still ! 

A  happy  evening  was  that  for  at  least  one  party  in  the  George  and 
Vulture,  and  light  and  cheerful  were  two  of  the  hearts  that  emerged 
from  its  hospitable  door  next  morning ;  the  owners  thereof  were  Mr. 
Pick\vick  and  Sam  Weller,  the  former  of  whom  was  speedily  deposited 
inside  a  comfortable  post  coach,  with  a  little  dickey  behind,  in  which 
the  latter  mounted  with  great  agility. 

"  Sir,"  caUed  out  Mr.  Weller,  to  his  master. 

"  Well,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  thrusting  his  head  out  of  the 
window. 

"  1  wish  them  horses  had  been  three  months  and  better  in  the  Fleet, 
Sir." 

"  Why,  Sam?*'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'*  Vy,  Sir,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Weller,  rubbing  his  hands,  "  how  thej 
vould  go  if  they  had  been  ! " 


508  POSTHUMOUS    PAPEflS    OF 


CHAPTER  XLVIL 

RELATES  HOW  Mil.  PICKWICK,  WITH  THE  ASSISTANCE  OF  SAMUEL 
WELLER,  ESSAYED  TO  SOFTEN  THE  HEART  OF  MR.  BENJAMIN 
ALLEN,    AND    TO    MOLLIFY  THE  WRATH  OF    MR.    ROBERT    SAWYER. 

Mr.  Ben  Allen  and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  sat  together  in  the  little 
surgery  behind  the  shop,  discussing  minced  veal  and  future  prospects, 
when  the  discourse,  not  unnaturally,  turned  upon  the  practice  acquired 
by  Bob  the  aforesaid,  and  his  present  chances  of  deriving  a  competent 
independence  from  the  honourable  profession  to  which  he  had  devoted 
himself. 

*'  — Which,  I  think,"  observed  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  pursuing  the 
thread  of  the  subject,  "  which  I  think,  Ben,  are  rather  dubious." 

*' What's  rather  dubious?"  enquired  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  at  the  same 
time  sharpening  his  intellects  with  a  draught  of  beer.  *^  What's 
dubious  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  chances,"  responded  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

"I  forgot,"  said  IMr.  Ben  Allen.  *^The  beer  has  reminded  me  that 
I  forgot.  Bob — yes  ;  they  are  dubious." 

"  it's  wonderful  how  the  poor  people  patronise  me,"  said  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer,  reflectively.  "  They  knock  me  up  at  all  hours  of  the  night, 
take  medicine  to  an  extent  which  I  should  have  conceived  impossible, 
put  on  blisters  and  leeches  with  a  perseverance  worthy  of  a  better  cause, 
and  make  additions  to  their  families  in  a  manner  which  is  quite  awful. 
Six  of  those  last-named  little  promissory  notes,  all  due  on  the  same  day 
Ben,  and  all  entrusted  to  me." 

''It's  very  gratifying,  isn't  it?"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  holding  his 
plate  for  some  more  minced  veal. 

"  Oh,  very,"  replied  Bob ;  "  only  not  quite  so  much  so  as  the  confidence 
of  patients,  with  a  shilling  or  two  to  spare,  would  be.  This  business 
was  capitally  described  in  the  advertisement,  Ben.  It  is  a  practice,  a 
very  extensive  practice — and  that's  all." 

"  Bob,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  laying  down  his  knife  and  fork,  and 
fixing  his  eyes  on  the  visage  of  his  friend — ''Bob,  I'll  tell  you  what 
it  is. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  enquired  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  You  must  make  yourself,  with  as  little  delay  as  possible,  master  of 
Arabella's  one  thousand  pounds." 

"  Three  per  cent,  consolidated  Bank  annuities,  now  standing  in  her 
name  in  the  book  or  books  of  the  Gove-nor  and  Company  of  the  Bank 
of  England,"  added  Bob  Sawyer,  in  legal  phraseology. 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  Ben.  "  She  has  it  when  she  comes  of  age,  or 
marries.  She  wants  a  year  of  coming  of  age,  and  if  you  plucked  up  a 
spirit  she  needn't  want  a  month  of  being  married." 


i' 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  509 

"  She's  a  very  charming  and  delightful  creature,**  quoth  IMr.  Robert 
Sawyer,  in  reply  ;  "  and  has  only  one  fault  that  I  know  of,  Ben.  it 
happens  unfortunately,  that  that  single  blemish  is  a  want  of  taste. 
She  don't  like  me." 

"  It's  my  opinion  that  she  don't  know  what  she  does  like/'  said  Mr. 
Ben  Allen,  contemptuously. 

"Perhaps  not,"  remarked  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer.  "  But  it's  my  opinion 
that  she  does  know  what  she  doesn't  like,  and  that's  of  even  more 
importance." 

''  I  wish,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  setting  his  teeth  together,  and  speaking 
more  like  a  savage  warrior  who  fed  upon  raw  wolf's  flesh  which  he 
carved  with  his  fingers,  than  a  peaceable  young  gentleman  who  eat 
minced  veal  with  a  knife  and  fork — "  I  wish  I  knew  whether  any 
rascal  really  has  been  tampering  with  her,  and  attempting  to  engage 
her  affections.     I  think  I  should  assassinate  him,  Bob." 

**  I'd  put  a  bullet  in  him  if  I  found  him  out,"  said  Mr.  Sawyer, 
stopping  in  the  course  of  a  long  draught  of  beer,  and  looking  malig- 
nantly out  of  the  porter  pot.  "  If  that  didn't  do  his  business,  I'd  extract 
it  afterwards,  and  kill  him  that  way." 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  gazed  abstractedly  on  his  friend  for  some  minutes 
in  silence,  and  then  said — 

"  You  have  never  proposed  to  her  point-blank,  Bob  ?  " 

"  No.  Because  I  saw  it  would  be  of  no  use,''  replied  Mr.  Robert 
Sawyer. 

*'  You  shall  do  it  before  you  are  twenty-four  hours  older,"  retorted 
Ben,  with  desperate  calmness.  *^  She  shall  have  you,  or  I'll  know  the 
reason  why — I'll  exert  my  authority." 

"  Well,"  said  IMr.  Bob  Sawyer,  ''  We  shall  see." 

"  We  shall  see,  my  friend,"  replied  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  fiercely.  He 
paused  for  a  few  seconds,  and  added  in  a  voice  broken  by  emotion, 
"  You  have  loved  her  from  a  child,  my  friend — you  loved  her  when  we 
were  boys  at  school  together,  and  even  then  she  was  wayward,  and 
slighted  your  young  feelings.  Do  you  recollect,  with  all  the  eagerness 
of  a  child's  love,  one  day  pressing  upon  her  acceptance  two  small 
carraway-seed  biscuits  and  one  sweet  apple,  neatly  folded  into  a  circular 
parcel  with  the  leaf  of  a  copy-book  ?  " 

*'  I  do,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  She  slighted  that,  I  think  ?  "  said  Ben  Allen. 

"  She  did,"  rejoined  Bob.  "  She  said  I  had  kept  the  parcel  so  long 
in  the  pockets  of  my  corduroys,  that  the  apple  was  unpleasantly  warm." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Mr.  Allen,  gloomily.  "  Upon  which  we  ate  it 
ourselves,  in  alternate  bites." 

Bob  Sawyer  intimated  his'  recollection  of  the  circumstance  last 
alluded  to,  by  a  melancholy  frown ;  and  the  two  friends  remained  for 
some  time  absorbed,  each  in  his  own  meditations. 

While  these  observations  were  being  exchanged  between  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  and  while  the  boy  in  the  grey  livery, 
marvelling  at  the  unwonted  prolongation  of  the  dinner,  cast  an  anxious 
look  from  time  to  time  towards  the  glass  door,  distracted  by  inward 
misgivings  regarding  the  amount  of  minced  veal  which  would  be  ulti- 


510  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

mately  reserved  for  his  individual  cravings,  there  rolled  soberly  on 
through  the  streets  of  Bristol,  a  private  fly,  painted  of  a  sad  green 
colour,  drawn  by  a  chubby  sort  of  brown  horse,  and  driven  by  a  surly 
looking  man  with  his  legs  dressed  like  the  legs  of  a  groom,  and  his  body 
attired  in  the  coat  of  a  coachman.  Such  appearances  are  common  to 
many  vehicles  belonging  to,  and  maintained  by,  old  ladies  of  economical 
habits ;  and  in  this  vehicle  there  sat  an  old  lady  who  was  its  mistress 
and  proprietor. 

"  Martin ! "  said  the  old  lady,  calling  to  the  surly  man  out  of  the  front 
window. 

"  Well?"  said  the  surly  man,  touching  his  hat  to  the  old  lady. 

"  Mr.  Sawyer's,"  said  the  old  lady. 

''  I  was  going  there,"  said  the  surly  man. 

The  old  lady  nodded  the  satisfaction  which  this  proof  of  the  surly 
man's  foresight  imparted  to  her  feelings ;  and  the  surly  man  giving  a 
smart  lash  to  the  chubby  horse,  they  ail  repaired  to  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's 
together. 

*'  Martin !"  said  the  old  lady,  when  the  fly  stopped  at  the  door  of  Mr. 
Robert  Sawyer  late  Nockemorf. 

"Well?"  said  Martin. 

"  Ask  the  lad  to  step  out  and  mind  the  horse." 

"  I'm  going  to  mind  the  horse  myself,"  said  Martin^  laying  his  whip 
on  the  roof  of  the  fly. 

"  I  can't  permit  it  on  any  account,"  said  the  old  lady ;  "  your 
testimony  will  be  very  important,  and  I  must  take  you  into  the  house 
with  me.  You  must  not  stir  from  my  side  during  the  whole  interview. 
Do  you  hear  ?  " 

''  I  hear,"  replied  Martin. 

"  Well ;  what  are  you  stopping  for  ?  " 

"Nothing,"  replied  Martin.  So  saying,  the  surly  man  leisurely- 
descended  from  the  wheel  upon  which  he  had  been  poising  himself  on 
the  tops  of  the  toes  of  his  right  foot,  and  having  summoned  the  boy  in 
the  grey  livery,  opened  the  coach-door,  flung  down  the  steps,  and 
thrusting  in  a  hand  enveloped  in  a  dark  wash-leather  glove,  pulled  out 
the  old  lady  with  as  much  unconcern  in  his  manner  as  if  she  were  a 
bandbox. 

''Dear  me,"  exclaimed  the  old  lady^  "I  am  so  flurried  now  I  have 
got  here  IMartin,  that  I'm  all  in  a  tremble." 

Mr.  Martin  coughed  behind  the  dark  wash-leather  glove,  but 
expressed  no  further  sympathy  ;  so  the  old  lady,  composing  herself, 
trotted  up  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  steps,  and  Mr.  Martin  followed.  Imme- 
diately upon  the  old  lady's  entering  the  shop,  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen 
and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had  been  putting  the  spirits  and  water 
out  of  sight,  and  upsetting  nauseous  drugs  to  take  oflT  the  smell  of 
the  tobacco-smoke,  issued  hastily  forth  in  a  transport  of  pleasure  and 
affection. 

"  My  dear  aunt,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  "  how  kind  of  you  to 
look  in  upon  us.  Mr.  Sawyer,  aunt;  my  friend  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  that 
I  have  spoken  to  you  about,  regarding — you  know,  aunt."  And  here 
Mr.  Ben  Allen,  who  was  not  at  the  moment  extraordinarily  sober,  added 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  511 

the  word  "  Arabella,"  in  what  was  meant  to  be  a  whisper,  but  which 
was  in  fact  an  especially  audible  and  distinct  tone  of  speech,  which 
nobody  could  avoid  hearing,  if  anybody  were  so  disposed. 

"  My  dear  Benjamin,"  said  the  old  lady,  struggling  with  a  great 
shortness  of  breath,  and  trembling  from  head  to  foot  —  "  don't  be 
alarmed,  my  dear,  but  I  think  I  had  better  speak  to  Mr.  Sawyer  alone 
for  a  moment — only  for  one  moment." 

"  Bob,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  "  will  you  take  my  aunt  into  the 
surgery  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  responded  Bob,  in  a  most  professional  voice.  "  Step 
this  way,  my  dear  Ma'am.  Don't  be  frightened.  Ma'am.  We  shall  be 
able  to  set  you  to  rights  in  a  very  short  time,  I  have  no  doubt,  Ma'am. 
Here,  my  dear  Ma'am.  Now  then."  With  this  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer 
having  handed  the  old  lady  to  a  chair,  shut  the  door,  drew  another 
chair  close  to  her,  and  waited  to  hear  detailed  the  symptoms  of  some 
disorder  from  which  he  saw  in  perspective  a  long  train  of  profits  and 
advantages. 

The  first  thing  the  old  lady  did,  was  to  shake  her  head  a  great  many 
limes,  and  begin  to  cry. 

"  Nervous,"  said  Bob  Sawyer  complacently.  "  Camphor-julep  and 
water  three  times  a  day,  and  composing  draught  at  night." 

*'  I  don't  know  how  to  begin,  Mr.  Sawyer,"  said  the  old  lady.  *'  It 
is  so  very  painful  and  distressing." 

"You  need  not  begin.  Ma'am,"  rejoined  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer.  "I  can 
anticipate  all  you  would  say.     The  head  is  in  fault." 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  think  it  was  the  heart,"  said  the  old  lady, 
with  a  slight  groan. 

"  Not  the  slightest  danger  of  that,  Ma'am,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer. 
"  The  stomach  is  the  primary  cause." 

"Mr.  Sawyer  I"  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  starting. 

*'  Not  the  least  doubt  of  it.  Ma'am,"  rejoined  Bob,  looking  wondrous 
wise.  "  Medicine,  in  time,  my  dear  Ma'am,  would  have  prevented 
it  all." 

"  Air.  Sawyer,"  said  the  old  lady,  more  flurried  than  before,  "  this 
conduct  is  either  great  impertinence  to  one  in  my  situation,  Sir,  or  it 
arises  from  your  not  understanding  the  object  of  my  visit.  If  it  had 
been  in  the  power  of  medicine  or  any  foresight  I  could  have  used  to 
prevent  what  has  occurred,  I  should  certainly  have  done  so.  I  had 
better  see  my  nephew  at  once,"  said  the  old  lady,  twirling  her  reticule 
indignantly,  and  rising  as  she  spoke. 

"  Stop  a  moment.  Ma'am,"  said  Bob  Sawyer  ;  "  I  am  afraid  I  have 
not  understood  you.     What  is  the  matter.  Ma'am  ?  " 

"My  niece,  Mr.  Sawyer,"  said  the  old  lady — "your  friend's 
sister." 

"  Yes,  Ma'am,"  said  Bob,  all  impatience  ;  for  the  old  lady,  although 
much  agitated,  spoke  with  the  most  tantalising  deliberation,  as  old 
ladies  often  do.     "  Yes,  Ma'am." 

*'  Left  my  home,  Mr.  Sawyer,  three  days  ago,  on  a  pretended  visit  to 
my  sister,  another  aunt  of  hers,  who  keeps  the  large  boarding  school 
just  beyond  the  third  mile-stone,  where  there  is  a  very  large  laburnum 


512  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

tree  and  an  oak  gate,"  said  the  old  lady,  stopping  in  this  place  to  dry 
her  eyes. 

*'  Oh,  devil  take  the  laburnum  tree!  Ma'am,''  said  Bob,  quite  for- 
getting his  professional  dignity  in  his  anxiety.  "  Get  on  a  little  faster  ; 
put  a  little  more  steam  on,  Ma'am,  pray." 

•'  This  morning/'  said  the  old  lady,  slowly,  'Hhis  morning,  she " 

*'  She  came  back  Ma'am,  I  suppose,"  said  Bob,  with  great  anima- 
tion.    "  Did  she  come  back  ?  " 

"  No,  she  did  not — she  wrote,"  replied  the  old  lady. 

"  What  did  she  say  ?  "  enquired  Bob,  eagerly. 

"  She  said,  Mr.  Sawyer,"  replied  the  old  lady — **  and  it  is  this  I 
want  you  to  prepare  Benjamin's  mind  for,  gently  and  by  degrees  ;  she 
said  that  she  was— I  have  got  the  letter  in  my  pocket,  Mr.  Sawyer, 
but  my  glasses  are  in  the  carriage,  and  I  should  only  waste  the  time  if 
I  attempted  to  point  out  the  passage  to  you,  without  them  ;  she  said, 
in  short,  Mr.  Sawyer,  that  she  was  married." 

"  What !  "  said,  or  rather  shouted,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  Married,"  repeated  the  old  lady. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  stopped  to  hear  no  more ;  but  darting  from  the 
surgery  into  the  outer  shop,  cried  in  a  stentorian  voice,  ^'^Ben,  my 
boy,  she's  bolted  !  " 

Mr.  Ben  Allen,  who  had  been  slumbering  behind  the  counter  with 
his  head  half  a  foot  or  so  below  his  knees,  no  sooner  heard  this  appal- 
ling communication,  than  he  made  a  precipitate  rush  at  Mr.  Martin, 
and  twisting  his  hand  in  the  neckcloth  of  that  taciturn  servitor,  ex- 
pressed an  obliging  intention  of  choking  him  where  he  stood,  which 
intention,  with  a  promptitude  often  the  effect  of  desperation,  he  at 
once  commenced  carrying  into  execution  with  much  vigour  and  surgical 
skill. 

Mr.  Martin,  who  was  a  man  of  few  words  and  possessed  but  little 
power  of  eloquence  or  persuasion,  submitted  to  this  operation  with  a 
very  calm  and  agreeable  expression  of  countenance,  for  some  seconds; 
tinding,  however,  that  it  threatened  speedily  to  lead  to  a  result  which 
would  place  it  beyond  his  power  to  claim  any  wages,  board  or  other- 
wise, in  all  times  to  come,  he  muttered  an  inarticulate  remonstrance, 
and  felled  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  to  the  ground.  As  that  gentleman 
had  got  his  hands  entangled  in  his  cravat,  he  had  no  alternative  but  to 
follow  him  to  the  floor.  There  they  both  lay  struggling,  when  the 
shop-door  opened,  and  the  party  was  increased  by  the  arrival  of  two 
most  unexpected  visitors,  to  wit,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller. 

The  impression  at  once  produced  upon  Mr.  Weller's  mind  by  what 
he  saw,  was.  that  Mr.  Martin  was  hired  by  the  establishment  of  Sawyer 
late  Nockemorf,  to  take  strong  medicine,  or  to  go  into  fits  and  be 
experimentalised  upon,  or  to  swallow  poison  now  and  then  with  the 
view  of  testing  the  efficacy  of  some  new  antidotes,  or  to  do  something 
or  other  to  promote  the  great  science  of  medicine,  and  gratify  the 
ardent  spirit  of  enquiry  burning  in  the  bosoms  of  its  two  young  pro- 
fessors. So,  without  presuming  to  interfere,  Sam  stood  perfectly  still, 
and  looked  on  as  if  he  were  mightily  interested  in  the  result  of  the  then 


THE    PICKWICK  CLUB.  513 

pending  experiment.  Not  so,  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  at  once  threw 
himself  upon  the  astonished  combatants  with  his  accustomed  energy, 
and  loudly  called  upon  the  by-standers  to  interpose. 

This  roused  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had  been  hitherto  quite  paralysed 
by  the  frenzy  of  his  companion  ;  and  with  that  gentleman's  assistance, 
Mr.  Pickwick  raised  Ben  Allen  to  his  feet.  Mr.  Martin  finding 
himself  alone  on  the  floor,  got  up  and  looked  about  him. 

*'  Mr.  Allen,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,'^  what  is  the  matter,  Sir?  " 

"  Never  mind.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Allen,  with  haughty  defiance. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  Bob  Sawyer. 
"  Is  he  unwell  .^  " 

Before  Bob  could  reply,  Mr.  Ben  Allen  seized  Mr.  Pickwick  by 
the  hand,  and  murmured,  in  sorrowful  accents,  "  My  sister,  my  dear 
Sir ;  my  sister." 

"  Oh,  is  that  all !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  We  shall  easily  arrange 
that  matter,  I  hope.  Your  sister  is  safe  and  well,  and  I  am  here,  my 
dear  Sir,  to " 

"  Sorry  to  do  anythin'  as  may  cause  an  interruption  to  such  wery 
pleasant  proceedin's,  as  the  king  said  ven  he  dissolved  the  parliament," 
interposed  Mr.  Welle;,  who  had  been  peeping  through  the  glass  door ; 
"but  there's  another  experiment  here,  Sir.  Here's  a  wenerable  old 
lady  a  lyin'  on  the  carpet  vaitin'  for  dissection,  or  galwinism,  or  some 
other  rewivin'  and  scientific  inwention." 

"I  forgot,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ben  Allen.     "^It  is  my  aunt." 

*'  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.    '^  Poor  lady  !  gently  Sam,  gently." 

"  Strange  sitivation  for  one  o'  the  family,"  observed  Sam  Weller, 
hoisting  the  aunt  into  a  chair.  "  Now,  depitty  Sawbones,  bring  out 
the  wollatilly." 

The  latter  observation  was  addressed  to  the  boy  in  grey,  who,  having 
handed  over  the  fly  to  the  care  of  the  street-keeper,  had  come  back  to  see 
what  all  the  noise  was  about.  Between  the  boy  in  grey,  and  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer,  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  (who  having  frightened  his  aunt  into  a 
fainting  fit,  was  afl^ectionately  solicitous  for  her  recovery)  the  old  lady 
was  at  length  restored  to  consciousness ;  and  then  IMr.  Ben  Allen,  turning 
with  a  puzzled  countenance  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  asked  him  what  he  was 
about  to  say  when  he  had  been  so  alarmingly  interrupted. 

"  We  are  all  friends  here,  I  presume.'*"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, clearing 
his  voice,  and  looking  towards  the  man  of  few  words  with  the  surly 
countenance,  who  drove  the  fly  with  the  chubby  horse. 

This  reminded  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  that  the  boy  in  grey  was  looking 
on,  with  eyes  wide  open  and  greedy  ears.  The  incipient  chemist 
having  been  lifted  up  by  his  coat  collar  and  dropped  outside  the  door. 
Bob  Sawyer  assured  Mr.  Pickwick  that  he  might  speak  without 
reserve. 

"'  Your  sister,  my  dear  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  turning  to  Benja- 
min Allen,  '^  is  in  London ;  well  and  happy." 

"  Her  happiness  is  no  object  to  me.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen, 
with  a  flourish  of  the  hand. 

"  Her  husband  is  an  object  to  me,  Sir,"  said  Bob  Sawyer.  '^He 
shall  be  an  object  to  me.  Sir,  at  twelve  paces,  and  a  very  pretty  object 


514  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

I'll  make  of  him,  Sir — a  mean-spirited  scoundrel !  "  This,  as  it  stood, 
was  a  very  pretty  denunciation,  and  magnanimous  withal ;  but  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  rather  weakened  its  effect,  by  winding  up  with  some 
general  observations  concerning  the  punching  of  heads  and  knocking 
out  of  eyes,  which  were  commonplace  by  comparison. 

*'  Stay,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "before  you  apply  those  epithets 
to  the  gentleman  in  question,  consider  dispassionately  the  extent  of  his 
fault,  and  above  all  remember  that  he  is  a  friend  of  mine." 

"  What !"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

'*  His  name,"  cried  Ben  Allen.     *'  His  name." 

"Mr.  Nathaniel  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  firmly. 

Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  deliberately  crushed  his  spectacles  beneath 
the  heel  of  his  boot,  and  having  picked  up  the  pieces  and  put  them 
into  three  separate  pockets,  folded  his  arms,  bit  his  lips,  and  looked  in 
a  threatening  manner  at  the  bland  features  of  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Then  it 's  you,  is  it.  Sir,  who  have  encouraged  and  brought  about 
this  match  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  at  length. 

"  And  it 's  this  gentleman's  servant,  I  suppose,"  interrupted  the  old 
lady,  "who  has  been  skulking  about  my  house,  and  endeavouring  to 
entrap  my  servants  to  conspire  against  their  mistress.     Martin  !" 

"  Well?"  said  the  surly  man,  coming  forward. 

"  Is  that  the  young  man  you  saw  in  the  lane,  whom  you  told  me 
about  this  morning  ?  " 

Mr.  Martin,  who,  as  it  has  already  appeared,  was  a  man  of  few 
words,  looked  at  Sam  Weller,  nodded  his  head,  and  growled  forth, 
*'  That 's  the  man.''  Mr.  Weller,  who  was  never  proud,  gave  a  smile 
of  friendly  recognition  as  his  eyes  encountered  those  of  the  surly  groom, 
and  admitted,  in  courteous  terms,  that  he  had  *•  knowed  him  afore." 

"  And  this  is  the  faithful  creature,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ben  Allen, 
"  that  I  had  nearly  suffocated !  Mr.  Pickwick,  how  dare  you  allow 
your  fellow  to  be  employed  in  the  abduction  of  my  sister  ?  1  demand 
that  you  explain  this  matter,  Sir." 

"  Explain  it.  Sir  !"  cried  Bob  Sawyer,  fiercely. 

"  It 's  a  conspiracy,"  said  Ben  Allen. 

"  A  regular  plant,"  added  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  A  disgraceful  imposition,"  observed  the  old  lady. 

"  Nothing  but  a  do,"  remarked  Martin. 

*'  Pray  hear  me,"  urged  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  Mr.  Ben  Allen  fell  into 
a  chair  that  patients  were  bled  in,  and  gave  way  to  his  pocket-hand- 
kerchief. "  I  have  rendered  no  assistance  in  this  matter,  beyond  that 
of  being  present  at  one  interview  between  the  young  people,  which  I 
could  not  prevent,  and  from  which  1  conceived  my  presence  would  re- 
move any  slight  colouring  of  impropriety  that  it  might  otherwise  have 
had :  this  is  the  whole  share  1  have  taken  in  the  transaction,  and  I 
had  no  suspicion  that  an  immediate  marriage  was  even  contemplated. 
Though,  mind,"  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily  checking  himself,  "  mind, 
I  do  not  say  I  should  have  prevented  it,  if  I  had  known  that  it  was  in- 
tended." 

"  You  hear  that,  all  of  you;  you  hear  that.^"  said  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen. 


i 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  515 

"  I  hope  they  do,"  mildly  observed  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round'; 
*<  and,"  added  that  gentleman,  his  colour  mounting  as  he  spoke,  "  I 
hope  they  hear  this.  Sir,  also, — that  from  what  has  been  stated  to  me, 
Sir,  I  assert  that  you  were  by  no  means  justified  in  attempting  to  force 
your  sister's  inclinations  as  you  did,  and  that  you  should  rather  liave 
endeavoured  bv  your  kindness  and  forbearance  to  have  supplied  the 
place  of  other  nearer  relations  whom  she  has  never  known  from  a  child. 
As  regards  my  young  friend,  I  must  beg  to  add,  that  in  every  point 
of  worldly  advantage,  he  is  at  least  on  an  equal  footing  with  yourself, 
if  not  on  a  much  better  one,  and  that  unless  I  hear  this  question  dis- 
cussed with  becoming  temper  and  moderation,  I  decline  hearing  any 
more  said  upon  the  subject." 

"  I  vish  to  make  a  wery  few  remarks  in  addition  to  wot  has  been 
put  forard  by  the  honorable  gen'lm'n  as  has  jist  given  over,'*  said  Mr. 
Weller,  stepping  forth,  "  vich  is  this  here  :  a  indiwidual  in  company 
has  called  me  a  feller." 

'^  That  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  matter,  Sam,"  inter- 
posed Mr.  Pickwick.     "  Pray  hold  your  tongue." 

"  I  ain't  a  goin'  to  say  nothin'  on  that  ere  pint,  Sir,"  replied  Sam, 
**  but  merely  this  here.  P'raps  that  gen'lm'n  may  think  as  there  vos 
a  priory  'tachment,  but  there  vorn't  nothin'  o'  the  sort,  for  the  young 
lady  said  in  the  wery  beginnin'  o'  the  keepin'  company  that  she  couldn't 
abide  him.  Nobody's  cut  him  out,  and  it  'ud  ha'  been  just  the  wery 
same  for  him  if  the  young  lady  had  never  seen  Mr.  Vinkle.  That's 
wot  I  vished  to  say.  Sir,  and  I  hope  I've  now  made  that  'ere  gen'lm'n's 
mind  easy." 

A  short  pause  followed  these  consolatory  remarks  of  Mr.  Weller, 
and  then  Mr.  Ben  Alien  rising  from  his  chair,  protested  that  he  would 
never  see  Arabella's  face  again,  while  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  despite  Sam's 
flattering  assurance,  vowed  dreadful  vengeance  on  the  happy  bridegroom. 

But,  just  when  matters  were  at  their  height  and.  threatening  to 
remain  so,  Mr.  Pickwick  found  a  powerful  assistant  in  the  old  iadv, 
who,  evidently  much  struck  by  the  mode  in  which  he  had  advocated 
her  niece's  cause,  ventured  to  approach  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen  with  a 
few  comforting  reflections,  of  which  the  chief  were,  that  after  all,  per- 
haps, it  was  well  it  was  no  worse ;  the  least  said  the  soonest 
mended,  and  upon  her  word  she  did  not  know  that  it  was  so  very  bad 
after  all ;  that  what  was  over  couldn't  be  begun,  and  what  couldn't  be 
cured  must  be  endured,  with  various  other  assurances  of  the  like  novel 
and  strengthening  description.  To  all  of  which,  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen 
replied  that  he  meant  no  disrespect  to  his  aunt  or  anybody  there,  but 
if  it  were  all  the  same  to  them,  and  they  would  allow  him  to  have  his 
own  way,  he  would  rather  have  the  pleasure  of  hating  his  sister  till 
death  and  after  it. 

At  length  when  this  determination  had  been  announced  half  a 
hundred  times,  the  old  lady  suddenly  bridling  up  and  looking  very 
majestic,  wished  to  know  what  she  had  done  that  no  respect  was  to  be 
paid  to  her  years  or  station,  and  that  she  should  be  obliged  to  beg  and 
pray  in  that  way  of  her  own  nephew,  whom  she  remembered  about  five- 
and-twenty  years  before  he  was   born,  and  whom    she  had   known 

o  o 


I 


516  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

personally  when  he  hadn't  a  tooth  in  his  head  ;  to  say  nothing  of  her 
presence  on  the  first  occasion  of  his  having  his  hair  cut,  and  assistance 
at  numerous  other  times  and  ceremonies  during  his  babyhood,  of  suffi- 
cient importance  to  found  a  claim  upon  his  affection,  obedience,  and 
sympathies,  for  ever. 

While  the  good  lady  was  bestowing  this  objurgation  on  Mr.  Ben  Allen, 
Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Pickwick  had  retired  in  close  conversation  to  the 
inner  room,  where  the  former  gentleman  was  observed  to  apply  himself 
several  times  to  the  mouth  of  a  black  bottle,  under  the  influence  of 
which,  his  features  gradually  assumed  a  cheerful  and  even  jovial  expres- 
sion. And  at  last  he  emerged  from  the  room,  bottle  in  hand,  and 
remarking  that  he  was  very  sorry  to  ^ay  he  had  been  making  a  fool  of 
himself,  begged  to  propose  the  health  and  happiness  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Winkle,  whose  felicity,  so  far  from  envying,  he  would  be  the  first  to 
congratulate  them  upon.  Hearing  this,  Mr.  Ben  Allen  suddenly  arose 
from  his  chair,  and  seizing  the  black  bottle  drank  the  toast  so  heartily, 
that,  the  liquor  being  strong,  he  became  nearly  as  black  in  the  face  as 
the  bottle  itself.  Finally  the  black  bottle  went  round  till  it  was  empty, 
and  there  was  so  much  shaking  of  hands  and  interchanging  of  com- 
plements, that  even  the  metal- visaged  Mr.  Martin  condescended  to 
smile. 

"  And  now,"  said  Bob  Sawyer,  rubbing  his  hands,  ''  we  '11  have  a 
jolly  night." 

"  [  am  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  that  I  must  return  to  my  inn. 
I  have  not  been  accustomed  to  fatigue  lately,  and  my  journey  has  tired 
me  exceedingly.'' 

"  You  '11  take  some  tea,  Mr.  Pickwick  ?  "  said  the  old  lady,  with  ir- 
resistible sweetness. 

"  Thank  you,  I  would  rather  not,"  replied  that  gentleman.  The 
truth  is,  that  the  old  lady's  evidently  increasing  admiration  was  Mr. 
Pickwick's  principal  inducement  for  going.  He  thought  of  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell  .  and  every  glance  of  the  old  lady's  eyes  threw  him  into  a  cold 
perspiration. 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  could  by  no  means  be  prevailed  upon  to  stay,  it 
was  arranged  at  once,  on  his  own  proposition,  that  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen  should  accompany  him  on  his  journey  to  the  elder  Mr.  Winkle's, 
and  that  the  coach  should  be  at  the  door  at  nine  o'clock  next  morning. 
He  then  took  his  leave,  and,  followed  by  Samuel  Weller,  repaired  to 
the  Bush.  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  Mr.  Martin's  face  was  hor- 
ril)ly  convulsed  as  he  shook  hands  with  Sam  at  parting,  and  that  he 
gave  vent  to  a  smile  and  an  oath  simultaneously,  from  which  tokens  it 
has  been  inferred  by  those  who  were  best  acquainted  with  that  gentle- 
man's peculiarities  that  he  expressed  himself  much  pleased  with  Mr. 
Weller's  society,  and  requested  the  honor  of  his  further  acquaintance. 

"  Shall  I  order  a  private  room.  Sir  ? "  inquired  Sam,  when  they 
reached  the  Bush. 

"  Why,  no,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick ;  ^'  as  I  dined  in  the  coffee 
room,  and  shall  go  to  bed  soon,  it  is  hardly  worth  while.  See  who 
there  is  in  the  traveller's  room,  Sam." 

Mr.  Weller  departed  on  his  errand,  and  presently  returned   to  say 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  517 

that  there  was  only  a  gentleman  with  one  eye,  and  the  landlord,  who 
were  drinkinj;  a  bowl  of  bishop  together. 

*'  I  will  join  them,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  He 's  a  queer  customer,  the  vun-eyed  vun,  Sir,"  observed  Mr. 
Weller,  as  he  led  the  way.  "  He 's  a  gammonin'  that  'ere  landlord,  he 
is.  Sir,  till  he  don't  rightly  know  vether  he  's  a  standing  on  the  soles  of 
his  boots  or  the  crown  of  his  hat." 

The  individual  to  whom  this  observation  referred,  was  sitting  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  room  when  Mr.  Pickwick  entered,  and  was  smoking 
a  large  Dutch  pipe,  with  his  eye  intently  fixed  upon  the  round  face 
of  the  landlord,  a  jolly  looking  old  personage,  to  whom  he  had  re- 
cently been  relating  some  tale  of  wonder,  as  was  testified  by  sundry 
disjointed  exclamations  of,  "  Well,  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it !  The 
strangest  thing  I  ever  heard!  Couldn't  have  supposed  it  possible!" 
and  other  expressions  of  astonishment  which  burst  spontaneously  from 
his  lips  as  he  returned  the  fixed  gaze  of  the  one-eyed  man. 

'•  Servant,  Sir,"  said  the  one-eyed  man  to  Mr.  Pickwick.  *'  Fine 
night,  Sir." 

"  Very  much  so  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the  waiter  placed 
a  small  decanter  of  brandy,  and  some  hot  water  before  him. 

While  Mr.  Pickwick  was  mixing  his  brandy  and  water,  the  one- 
eyed  man  looked  round  at  him  earnestly,  from  time  to  time,  and  at 
length  said  — 

**  I  think  I've  seen  you  before." 

'^  I  don't  recollect  you,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  dare  say  not,"  said  the  one-eyed  man.  "  You  didn't  know  me, 
but  I  knew  two  friends  of  yours  that  were  stopping  at  the  Peacock  at 
Eatanswill,  at  the  time  of  the  Election." 

"Oh,  indeed  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Yes,"  rejoined  the  one  eyed  man.  *'  I  mentioned  a  little  circum- 
stance to  them  about  a  friend  of  mine  of  the  name  of  Tom  Smart. 
Perhaps  you've  heard  them  speak  of  it." 

"  Often,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  smiling.  "  He  was  your  uncle,  I 
think?" 

"  No,  no — only  a  friend  of  my  uncle's,"  replied  the  one-eyed  man. 

"  He  was  a  wonderful  man,  that  uncle  of  yours,  though,'*  remarked  the 
landlord,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Well,  I  think  he  was ;  I  think  I  may  say  he  was,"  answered  the 
one-eyed  man.  ''  I  could  tell  you  a  story  about  that  same  uncle,  gen- 
tlemen, that  would  rather  surprise  you." 

"Could  you  .?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     *'Let  us  hear  it  by  all  means." 

The  one-eyed  Bagman  ladled  out  a  glass  of  negus  from  the  bowl,  and 
drank  it,  smoked  a  long  whifF  out  of  the  Dutch  pipe,  and  then  calling 
to  Sam  Weller  who  was  lingering  near  the  door,  that  he  needn't  go 
away  unless  he  wanted  to,  because  the  story  was  no  secret,, fixed  his 
eye  upon  the  landlord's,  and  proceeded  in  the  words  of  the  next  chapter. 


oo  2 


518  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


CHAPTER   XLVIII. 

CONTAINING    THE    STORY    OF    THE    BAGMAN's    UNCLE. 

"'  My  uncle,  gentlemen,"  said  tlie  bagman,  "  was  one  of  the  mer- 
riest, pleasantest,  cleverest  fellows  that  ever  lived.  I  wish  you  had 
known  him,  gentlemen.  On  second  thoughts,  gentlemen,  I  don't  wish 
you  had  known  him,  for  if  you  had,  you  would  have  been  all  by  this 
time  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  if  not  dead,  at  all  events  so  near 
it,  as  to  have  taken  to  stopping  at  home  and  giving  up  company, 
which  would  have  deprived  me  of  the  inestimable  pleasure  of  address- 
ing you  at  this  moment.  Gentlemen,  I  wish  your  fathers  and  mothers 
had  known  my  uncle.  They  would  have  been  amazingly  fond  of  him, 
especially  vour  respectable  mothers,  I  know  they  would.  If  any  two 
of  his  numerous  virtues  predominated  over  the  many  that  adorned  his 
character,  I  should  say  they  were  his  mixed  punch  and  his  after- 
supper  scmg.  Excuse  my  dwelling  upon  these  melancholy  recollections 
of  departed  worth ;  you  won't  see  a  man  like  my  uncle  every  day  in 
the  week. 

"  I  have  always  considered  it  a  great  point  in  my  uncle's  character, 
gentlemen,  that  he  was  the  intimate  friend  and  companion  of  Tom 
Smart,  of  the  great  house  of  Bilson  and  Slum,  Cateaton  Street,  City. 
My  uncle  collected  for  Tiggin  and  Welps,  but  for  a  long  time  he  went 
pretty  near  the  same  journey  as  Tom  ;  and  the  verv  first  night  they 
met,  my  uncle  took  a  fancy  for  Tom,  and  Tom  took  a  fancy  for  my 
uncle.  They  made  a  bet  of  a  new  hat  before  they  had  known  each 
other  half  an  hour,  who  should  brew  the  best  quart  of  punch  and  drink 
it  the  quickest.  My  uncle  was  judged  to  have  won  the  making,  but 
Tom  Smart  beat  him  in  the  drinking  by  about  half  a  salt-spoon-full. 
They  took  another  quart  a-piece  to  drink  each  other's  health  in,  and 
were  staunch  friends  ever  afterwards.  There 's  a  destiny  in  these  things 
gentlemen  ;  we  can't  help  it. 

"  In  personal  appearance,  my  uncle  was  a  trifle  shorter  than  the 
middle  size  ;  he  was  a  thought  stouter  too,  than  the  ordinary  run  of 
people,  and  perhaps  his  face  might  be  a  shade  redder.  He  had  the 
jolliest  face  you  ever  saw,  gentlemen :  something  like  Punch,  with  a 
handsomer  nose  and  chin;  his  eyes  were  always  twinkling  and  sparkling 
with  good  humour,  and  a  smile — not  one  of  your  unmeaning  wooden 
grins,  but  a  real,  merry,  hearty,  good-tempered  smile,  was  perpetually 
on  his  countenance.  He  was  pitched  out  of  his  gig  once,  and  knocked 
head  first  against  a  mile-stone.  There  he  lay,  stunned,  and  so  cut  about 
the  face  with  some  gravel  which  had  been  heaped  up  alongside  it,  that,  to 
use  my  uncle's  own  strong  expression,  if  his  mother  could  have  revisited 
the  earth,  she  wouldn't  have  known  him.  Indeed,  when  I  come  to 
think  of  the  matter,  gentlemen,  I  feel  pretty  sure  she  wouldn't,  for 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  519 

she  died  when  my  nncle  was  two  years  and  seven  months  old,  and  I 
think  it 's  very  likely  that  even  without  the  gravel,  his  top-boots  would 
have  puzzled 'the  good  lady  not  a  little,  to  say  nothing  of  his  jolly  red 
face.  However,  there  he  lay,  and  I  have  heard  my  uncle  say  many  a 
time  that  the  man  said  who'picked  him  up  that  he  was  smiling  as  mer- 
rily as  if  he  had  tumbled  out  for  a  treat,  and  that  after  they  had  bled 
him,  the  tirst  faint  glimmerings  of  returning  animation  were,  his  jump- 
ing up  in  bed,  bursting  out  into  a  loud  laugh,  kissing  the  young 
woman  who  held  the  basin,  and  demanding  a  mutton  chop  and  a  pickled 
walnut  instantly.  He  was  very  fond  of  pickled  walnuts,  gentlemen. 
He  said  he  always  found  that,  taken  without  vinegar,  they  relished  the 
beer. 

*'  My  uncle's  great  journey  was  in  the  fall  of  the  leaf,  at  which  time 
he  collected  debts  and  took  orders  in  the  north :  going  from  London 
to  Edinburgh,  from  Edinburgh  to  Glasgow,  from  Glasgow  back  to 
Edinburgh,  and  thence  to  London  by  the  smack.  You  are  to  under- 
stand that  this  second  visit  to  Edinburgh  was  for  his  own  pleasure.  He 
used  to  go  back  for  a  week,  just  to  look  up  his  old  friends ;  and  what  with 
breakfasting  with  this  one,  and  lunching  with  that,  and  dining  with  a 
third,  and  supping  with  another,  a  pretty  tight  week  he  used  to  make 
of  it.  I  don't  know  whether  any  of  you,  gentlemen,  ever  partook  of  a 
real  substantial  hospitable  Scotch  breakfast,  and  then  went  out  to  a 
Blight  lunch  of  a  bushel  of  oysters,  a  dozen  or  so  of  bottled  ale,  and  a 
noggin  or  two  of  whiskey  to  close  up  with.  If  you  ever  did,  you  will 
agree  with  me  that  it  requires  a  pretty  strong  head  to  go  out  to  dinner 
and  supper  afterwards. 

"  But,  bless  your  hearts  and  eyebrows,  all  this  sort  of  thing  was 
nothing  to  my  uncle.  He  was  so  well  seasoned  that  it  was  mere  child's 
play.  I  have  heard  him  say  that  he  could  see  the  Dundee  people 
out  any  day,  and  walk  home  afterwards  without  staggering ;  and  yet 
the  Dundee  people  have  as  strong  heads  and  as  strong  punch,  gentle- 
men, as  you  are  likely  to  meet  with,  between  the  poles.  I  have  heard 
of  a  Glasgow  man  and  a  Dundee  man  drinking  against  each  other  for 
fifteen  hours  at  a  sitting.  They  were  both  suffocated  as  nearly  as 
could  be  ascertained  at  the  same  moment,  but  with  this  trifling  excep- 
tion, gentlemen,  they  were  not  a  bit  the  worse  for  it. 

"  One  night,  within  four-and-twenty  hours  of  the  time  when 
he  had  settled  to  take  shipping  for  London,  my  uncle  supped  at  the 
house  of  a  very  old  friend  of  his,  a  Baillie  Mac  something,  and  four 
syllables  after  it,  who  lived  in  the  old  town  of  Edinburgh.  There 
were  the  baillie's  wife,  and  the  baillie's  three  daughters,  and  the 
baillie's  grown-up  son,  and  three  or  four  stout,  bushy-eye  browed,  canty 
old  Scotch  fellows  that  the  baillie  had  got  together  to  do  honour  to 
my  uncle,  and  help  to  make  merry.  It  was  a  glorious  supper.  There 
was  kippered  salmon,  and  Finnan  haddocks,  and  a  lamb's  head,  and  a 
haggis  ;  a  celebrated  Scotch  dish,  gentleman,  which  my  uncle  used  to  say 
always  looked  to  him,  when  it  came  to  table,  very  much  like  a  cupid's 
stomach ;  and  a  great  many  other  things  besides,  that  I  forget  the 
names  of,  but  very  good  things  notwithstanding.  The  lassies  were 
pretty  and  agreeable  ;  the  baillie's  wife  one  of  the  best  creatures  that 


I 


520  posTHuaious  papers  of 

ever  lived  ;  and  my  uncle  in  thoroughly  good  cue  :  the  consequence  of 
which  was,  that  the  young  ladies  tittered  and  giggled,  and  the  old  lady 
laughed  out  loud,  and  the  baillie  and  the  other  old  fellows  roared  till 
they  were  red  in  the  face,  the  whole  mortal  time.  I  don't  quite  recol- 
lect how  many  tumblers  of  whiskey  toddy  each  man  drank  after  supper, 
but  this  I  know,  that  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  baillie's 
grown-up  son  became  insensible  while  attempting  the  first  verse  of 
•  Willie  brewed  a  peck  o'  maut ; '  and  he  having  been,  for  half  an 
hour  before,  the  only  other  man  visible  above  the  mahogany,  it  occurred 
to  my  uncle  that  it  was  almost  time  to  think  about  going,  especially  as 
drinking  had  set  in  at  seven  o'clock  in  order  that  he  might  get  home 
at  a  decent  hour.  But  thinking  it  might  not  be  quite  polite  to  go  just 
then,  my  uncle  voted  himself  into  the  chair,  mixed  another  glass,  rose 
to  propose  his  own  health,  addressed  himself  in  a  neat  and  compli- 
mentary speech,  and  drank  the  toast  with  great  enthusiasm.  Still 
nobody  woke ;  so  my  uncle  took  a  little  drop  more — neat  this  time,  to 
prevent  the  toddy  disagreeing  with  him,  and  laying  violent  hands  on 
his  hat  sallied  forth  into  the  street. 

*'  It  was  a  wild  gusty  night  when  my  uncle  closed  the  baillie's  door  ; 
and  settling  his  hat  firmly  on  his  head  to  prevent  the  wind  from  taking 
it,  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  and  looking  upwards,  took  a  short 
survey  of  the  state  of  the  weather.  The  clouds  were  drifting  over  the 
moon  at  their  giddiest  speed,  at  one  time  whoUv  obscuring  her,  at 
another,  suffering  her  to  burst  forth  in  full  splendour  and  shed  her  light 
on  all  the  objects  around ;  anon,  driving  over  her  again  with  increased 
velocity,  and  shrouding  everything  in  darkness.  *  Really,  this  won't 
do,'  said  my  uncle,  addressing  himself  to  the  weather,  as  if  he  felt 
himself  personally  offended.  *  This  is  not  at  all  the  kind  of  thing  for 
my  voyage.  It  will  not  do  at  any  price,'  said  my  uncle,  very  im- 
pressively. And  having  repeated  this,  several  times,  he  recovered  his 
balance  with  some  difficulty — for  he  was  rather  giddy  with  looking  up 
into  the  sky  so  long — and  walked  merrily  on. 

"  The  baillie's  house  was  in  the  Canongate,  and  my  uncle  was  going 
to  the  other  end  of  Leith  Walk,  rather  better  than  a  mile's  journey.  On 
either  side  of  him,  there  shot  up  against  the  dark  sky,  tall,  gaunt, 
straggling  houses,  with  time-stained  fronts,  and  windows  that  seemed  to 
have  shared  the  lot  of  eyes  in  mortals,  and  to  have  grown  dim 
and  sunken  with  age.  Six,  seven,  eight  stories  high  were  the 
houses;  story  piled  above  story,  as  children  build  with  cards  — 
throwing  their  dark  shadows  over  the  roughly  paved  road,  and 
making  the  night  darker.  A  few  oil  lamps  were  scattered,  at  long 
distances,  but  they  only  served  to  mark  the  dirty  entrance  to  some 
narrow  close,  or  to  show  where  a  common  stair  communicated,  by  steep 
and  intricate  windings  with  the  various  flats  above.  Glancing  at  all 
these  things  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  seen  them  too  often  before, 
to  think  them  worthy  of  much  notice  now,  my  uncle  walked  up  the 
middle  of  the  street  with  a  thumb  in  each  waistcoat  pocket,  indulging 
from  time  to  time  in  various  snatches  of  song,  chaunted  forth  with 
such  good  will  and  spirit,  that  the  quiet  honest  folk  started  from  their 
first  sleep  and  lay  trembling  in  bed  till  the  sound   died  away  in  the 


4 


!it 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  521 

distance;  when,  satisfying  themselves  that  it  was  only  some  drunken 
ne'er-do-weel  finding  his  way  home,  they  covered  themselves  up  warm 
and  fell  asleep  again. 

*'  I  am  particular  in  describing  how  my  uncle  walked  up  the  middle 
of  the  street  with  his  thumbs  in  his  waistcoat  pockets,  gentlemen, 
because,  as  he  often  used  to  say  (and  with  great  reason  too)  there  is 
nothing  at  all  extraordinary  in  this  story,  unless  you  distinctly  under- 
stand at  the  beginning,  that  he  was  not  by  any  means  of  a  marvellous 
or  romantic  turn. 

*'  Gentlemen,  my  uncle  walked  on  with  his  thumbs  in  his  waistcoat 
pockets,  taking  the  middle  of  the  street  to  himself,  and  singing  now  a 
verse  of  a  love  song,  and  then  a  verse  of  a  drinking  one  ;  and  when  he 
was  tired  of  both,  whistling  melodiously,  until  he  reached  the  North 
Bridge,  which  at  this  point  connects  the  old  and  new  towns  of  Edin- 
burgh. Here  he  stopped  for  a  minute  to  look  at  the  strange  irregular 
clusters  of  lights  piled  one  above  the  other,  and  twinkling  afar  off  so 
high  in  the  air  that  they  looked  like  stars  gleaming  from  the  castle 
walls  on  the  one  side  and  the  Calton  Hill  on  the  other,  as  if  they 
illuminated  veritable  castles  in  the  air,  while  the  old  picturesque  town 
slept  heavily  on  in  gloom  and  darkness  below;  its  palace  and  chapel  of 
Holy  rood,  guarded  day  and  night,  as  a  friend  of  my  uncle's  used  to  say, 
by  old  Arthur's  Seat,  towering,  surly  and  dark  like  some  gruff  genius, 
over  the  ancient  city  he  has  watched  so  long.  I  say,  gentlemen,  my 
uncle  stopped  here  for  a  minute  to  look  about  him  ;  and  then,  paying  a 
compliment  to  the  weather  which  had  a  little  cleared  up,  though  the 
moon  was  sinking,  walked  on  again  as  royally  as  before,  keeping  the 
middle  of  the  road  with  great  dignity,  and  looking  as  if  he  should  very 
much  like  to  meet  with  somebody  who  would  dispute  possession  of  it 
with  him.  There  was  nobody  at  all  disposed  to  contest  the  point,  as  it 
happened ;  and  so  on  he  went,  with  his  thumbs  in  his  waistcoat 
pockets,  as  peaceable  as  a  lamb. 

"  When  my  uncle  reached  the  end  of  Leith  Walk,  he  had  to  cross  a 
pretty  large  piece  of  waste  ground  which  separated  him  from  a  short 
street  which  he  had  to  turn  down  to  go  direct  to  his  lodging.  Now  in 
this  piece  of  waste  ground  there  was  at  that  time  an  inclosure  belong- 
ing to  some  wheelwright,  who  contracted  with  the  Post-office  for  the 
purchase  of  old  worn-out  mail  coaches ;  and  my  uncle  being  very  fond 
of  coaches,  old,  young,  or  middle-aged,  all  at  once  took  it  into  his  head 
to  step  out  of  his  road  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  peep  between  the 
palings  at  these  mails,  about  a  dozen  of  which  he  remembered  to  have 
seen,  crowded  together  in  a  very  forlorn  and  dismantled  state,  inside. 
My  uncle  was  a  very  enthusiastic,  emphatic  sort  of  person,  gentlemen; 
so,  finding  that  he  could  not  obtain  a  good  peep  between  the  palings, 
he  got  over  them,  and  setting  himself  quietly  down  on  an  old  axletree, 
began  to  contemplate  the  mail  coaches  with  a  great  deal  of  gravity. 

"  There  might  be  a  dozen  of  them,  or  there  might  be  more — my 
uncle  was  never  quite  certain  upon  this  point,  and  being  a  man  of  very 
scrupulous  veracity  about  numbers,  didn't  like  to  say — but  there  they 
stood,  all  huddled  together  in  the  most  desolate  condition  imaginable. 
The  doors  had  been  torn  from  their  hinges  and  removed,  the  linings  had 


522  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

been  stripped  off,  only  a  shred  hanging  here  and  there  by  a  rusty  nail; 
the  lamps  were  gone,  the  poles  had  long  since  vanished,  the  iron-work 
was  rusty,  the  paint  worn  away  ;  the  wind  whistled  through  the  chinks 
in  the  bare  wood-work,  and  the  rain,  which  had  collected  on  the  roofs, 
fell  drop  by  drop  into  the  insides  with  a  hollow  and  melancholy  sound. 
They  were  the  decaying  skeletons  of  departed  mails,  and  in  that  lonelj 
place,  at  that  time  of  night,  they  looked  chill  and  dismal. 

'^  My  uncle  rested  his  head  upon  his  hands,  and  thought  of  the 
busy  bustling  people  who  had  rattled  about,  years  before,  in  the  old 
coaches,  and  were  now  as  silent  and  changed ;  he  thought  of  the 
numbers  of  people  to  whom  one  of  those  crazy,  mouldering  vehicles  had 
borne,  night  after  night  for  many  years  and  through  all  weathers,  the 
anxiously  expected  intelligence,  the  eagerly  looked-for  remittance,  the 
promised  assurance  of  health  and  safety,  the  sudden  announcement  of 
sickness  and  death.  The  merchant,  the  lover,  the  wife,  the  widow,  the 
mother,  the  schoolboy,  the  very  child  who  tottered  to  the  door  at  the 
postman's  knock — how  had  they  all  looked  forward  to  the  arrival  of  the 
old  coach.     And  where  were  they  all  now  ! 

"  Gentlemen,  my  uncle  used  to  say  that  he  thought  all  this  at  the 
time,  but  I  rather  suspect  he  learnt  it  out  of  some  book  afterwards,  for 
he  distinctly  stated  that  he  fell  into  a  kind  of  doze  as  he  sat  on  the  old 
axletree  looking  at  the  decayed  mail  coaches,  and  that  he  was  suddenly 
awakened  by  some  deep  church-bell  striking  two.  Now,  my  uncle 
was  never  a  fast  thinker,  and  if  he  had  thought  all  these  things,  I  am 
quite  certain  it  would  have  taken  him  till  full  half-past  two  o'clock  at 
the  very  least.  I  am,  therefore,  decidedly  of  opinion,  gentlemen,  that 
my  uncle  fell  into  the  kind  of  doze  without  having  thought  about  anj 
thing  at  all. 

"  Be  this  as  it  may,  a  church  bell  struck  two.  My  uncle  woke, 
rubbed  his  eyes,  and  jumped  up  in  astonishment. 

"  In  one  instant,  after  the  clock  struck  two,  the  whole  of  this 
deserted  and  quiet  spot  had  become  a  scene  of  the  most  extraordinary 
life  and  animation.  The  mail  coach  doors  were  on  their  hinges,  the 
lining  was  replaced,  the  iron-work  was  as  good  as  new,  the  paint  was 
restored,  the  lamps  were  alight ;  cushions  and  great  coats  were  on  every 
coach  box,  porters  were  thrusting  parcels  into  every  boot,  guards  were 
stowing  away  letter-bags,  hostlers  were  dashing  pails  of  water  against 
the  renovated  wheels  ;  numbers  of  men  were  rushing  about,  fixing  poles 
into  every  coach,  passengers  arrived,  portmanteaus  were  handed  up, 
horses  were  put  to,  and  in  short  it  was  perfectly  clear  that  every  mail 
there  was  to  be  off  directly.  Gentlemen,  my  uncle  opened  his  eyes  so 
wide  at  all  this,  that,  to  the  very  last  moment  of  his  life,  he  used  to 
wonder  how  it  fell  out  that  he  had  ever  been  able  to  shut  'em  again. 

"  *  Now  then,'  said  a  voice,  as  my  uncle  felt  a  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
'  You're  booked  for  one  inside.     You'd  better  get  in.' 

"  '  I  booked ! '  said  my  uncle,  turning  round. 

^'  '  Yes,  certainly.' 

'*  My  uncle,  gentlemen,  could  say  nothing,  he  was  so  very  much 
astonished.  The  queerest  thing  of  all,  was,  that  although  there  was 
such  a  crowd  of  persons,  and  although  fresh  faces  were  pouring  in. 


r^ 


1 


^Mz,M- 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  523 

every  moment,  there  was  no  telling  where  they  came  from  ;  they 
seemed  to  start  up  in  some  strange  manner  from  the  ground  or  the 
air,  and  to  disappear  in  the  same  way.  When  a  porter  had  put  his 
luggage  in  the  coach  and  received  his  fare,  he  turned  round  and  was 
gone  ;  and  before  my  uncle  had  well  begun  to  wonder  what  had  become 
of  him,  half-a-dozen  fr.esh  ones  started  up,  and  staggered  along  under 
the  weight  of  parcels  which  seemed  big  enough  to  crush  them.  The 
passengers  were  all  dressed  so  oddly  too— large,  broad-skirted  laced 
coats  with  great  cuffs  and  no  collars;  and  wigs,  gentlemen, — great 
formal  wigs  with  a  tie  behind.     My  uncle  could  make  nothing  of  it. 

"  '  Now,  are  you  going  to  get  in  ? '  said  the  person  who  had  ad- 
dressed my  uncle  before.  He  was  dressed  as  a  mail  guard,  with  a  wig 
on  his  head  and  most  enormous  cuffs  to  his  coat,  and  had  got  a  lantern 
in  one  hand  and  a  huge  blunderbuss  in  the  other,  which  he  was  going 
to  stow  away  in  his  little  arm-chest.  'Are  you  going  to  get  in.  Jack 
Martin  ?'  said  the  guard,  holding  the  lantern  to  my  uncle's  face. 

"  *  Hallo,'  said  my  uncle,  falling  back  a  step  or  two.  '  That's 
familiar  ? ' 

"  '  It's  so  on  the  way-bill,'  replied  the  guard. 

"'Isn't  there  a  '  Mister' before  it?'  said  my  uncle— for  he  felt, 
gentlemen,  that  for  a  guard  he  didn't  know  to  call  him  Jack  IMartin, 
was  a  liberty  which  the  Post-office  wouldn't  have  sanctioned  if  thej 
had  known  it. 

"  '  No ;  there  is  not,'  rejoined  the  guard  coolly. 

"  'Is  the  fare  paid?'  enquired  my  uncle. 

"  '  Of  course  it  is,'  rejoined  the  guard. 

*'  ' It  is,  is  it? '  said  my  uncle.     ' Then  here  goes — which  coach ? ' 

*'  'This,'  said  theguard,  pointing  to  an  old-fashioned  Edinburgh  and 
London  Mail,  which  had  got  the  steps  down,  and  the  door  open. 
'  Stop — here  are  the  other  passengers.     Let  them  get  in  first.' 

'As  the  guard  spoke,  there  all  at  once  appeared,  right  in  front  of 
my  uncle,  a  young  gentleman  in  a  powdered  wig  and  a  sky  blue  coat 
trimmed  with  silver,  made  very  full  and  broad  in  the  skirts,  which 
were  lined  with  buckram.  Tiggin  and  Welps  were  in  the  printed 
calico  and  waistcoat  piece  line,  gentlemen,  so  my  uncle  knew  all  the 
materials  at  once.  He  wore  knee  breeches  and  a  kind  of  leggings 
rolled  up  over  his  silk  stockings,  and  shoes  with  buckles  ;  he  had 
ruffles  at  his  wrists,  a  three-cornered  hat  on  his  head,  and  a  long  taper 
sword  by  his  side.  The  flaps  of  his  waistcoat  came  half  way  down 
his  thighs,  and  the  ends  of  his  cravat  reached  to  his  waist.  He  stalked 
gravely  to  the  coach-door,  pulled  off  his  hat,  and  held  it  out  above  his 
head  at  arm's  length,  cocking  his  little  finger  in  the  air  at  the  same 
time,  as  some  affected  people  do  when  they  take  a  cup  of  tea :  then 
drew  his  feet  together,  and  made  a  low  grave  bow,  and  then  put  out 
his  left  hand.  My  uncle  was  just  going  to  step  forward,  and  shake  it 
heartily,  when  he  perceived  that  these  attentions  were  directed  not 
towards  him,  but  to  a  young  lady,  who  just  then  appeared  at  the  foot 
of  the  steps,  attired  in  an  old-fashioned  green  velvet  dress,  with  a  long 
waist  and  stomacher.  She  had  no  bonnet  on  her  head,  gentlemen, 
which  was  muffled  in  a  black  silk  hood,  but  she  looked  round  for  an 


I 


524  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

instant  as  she  prepared  to  get  into  the  coach,  and  such  a  beautiful  face 
as  she  discovered  my  uncle  had  never  seen — not  even  in  a  pic- 
ture. She  got  into  the  coach,  holding  up  her  dress  with  one  hand, 
and  as  my  uncle  always  said  with  a  round  oath,  when  he  told 
the  story,  he  wouldn't  have  believed  it  possible  that  legs  and  feet  could 
have  been  brought  to  such  a  state  of  perfection  unless  he  had  seen  them 
with  his  own  eyes. 

'^But  in  this  one  glimpse  of  the  beautiful  face,  my  uncle  saw  that 
the  young  lady  had  cast  an  imploring  look  upon  him,  and  that  she 
appeared  terriJied  and  distressed.  He  noticed  too,  that  the  young 
fellow  in  the  powdered  wig,  notwithstanding  his  show  of  gallantry, 
which  was  all  very  fine  and  grand,  clasped  her  tight  by  the  wrist  when 
she  got  in,  and  followed  himself  immediately  afterwards.  An  uncom- 
monly ill-looking  fellow  in  a  close  brown  wig,  and  a  plum-coloured 
suit,  wearing  a  very  large  sword  and  boots  up  to  his  hips,  belonged  to 
the  party  ;  and  when  he  sat  himself  down  next  to  the  young  lady,  who 
shrunk  into  a  corner  at  his  approach,  my  uncle  was  confirmed  in  his 
original  impression  that  something  dark  and  mysterious  was  going 
forward,  or,  as  he  always  said  himself,  that  '  there  was  a  screw  loose 
somewhere.'  It's  quite  surprising  how  quickly  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  help  the  lady  at  any  peril,  if  she  needed  help. 

"  *  Death  and  lightning ! '  exclaimed  the  young  gentleman,  laying 
his  hand  upon  his  sword,  as  my  uncle  entered  the  coach. 

"  'Blood  and  thunder  !'  roared  the  other  gentleman.  With  this  he 
whipped  his  sword  out,  and  made  a  lunge  at  my  uncle  without  further 
ceremony.  My  uncle  had  no  weapon  about  him,  but  with  great  dexterity 
he  snatched  the  ill-looking  gentleman's  three-cornered  hat  from  his 
head,  and  receiving  the  point  of  his  sword  right  through  the  crown, 
squeezed  the  sides  together,  and  held  it  tight. 

"'Pink  him  behind,' cried  the  ill-looking  gentleman  to  his  com- 
panion, as  he  struggled  to  regain  his  sword. 

"  '  He  had  better  not,'  cried  my  uncle,  displaying  the  heel  of  one  of 
his  shoes  in  a  threatening  manner.  '  1 11  kick  his  brains  out  if  he  has 
any,  or  fracture  his  skull  if  he  hasn't.'  Exerting  all  his  strength 
at  this  moment,  my  uncle  wrenched  the  ill-looking  man's  sword  from 
his  grasp,  and  flung  it  clean  out  of  the  coach-window,  upon  which  the 
younger  gentleman  vociferated  'Death  and  lightning!'  again,  and 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  hilt  of  his  sword  in  a  very  fierce  manner,  but 
didn't  draw  it.  Perhaps,  gentlemen,  as  my  uncle  used  to  say,  with  a 
smile,  perhaps  he  was  afraid  of  alarming  the  lady. 

*^ '  ]\ow  gentlemen,'  said  my  uncle,  taking  his  seat  deliberately,  *I 
don't  want  to  have  any  death  with  or  without  lightning  in  a  lady's 
presence,  and  we  have  had  quite  blood  and  thundering  enough  for  one 
journey ;  so  if  you  please,  we'll  sit  in  our  places  like  quiet  insides — 
here,  guard,  pick  up  that  gentleman's  carving  knife.' 

"  As  quickly  as  my  uncle  said  the  words,  the  guard  appeared 
at  the  coach-window  with  the  gentleman's  sword  in  his  hand.  He 
held  up  his  lantern,  and  looked  earnestly  in  [my  uncle's  face  as  he 
handed  it  in,  when  by  its  light  my  uncle  saw,  to  his  great  surprise, 
that  an  immense  crowd  of   mail-coach  guards   swarmed   round    the 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  525 

window,  every  one  of  whom  had  his  eyes  earnestly  fixed  upon  him  too. 
He  had  never  seen  such  a  sea  of  white  faces  and  red  bodies,  and  earnest 
eyes,  in  all  his  born  days. 

*'  'This  is  the  strangest  sort  of  thing  I  ever  had  any  thing  to  do 
with,'  thought  my  uncle — 'allow  me  to  return  you  your  hat,  Sir.' 

**  The  ill-looking  gentleman  received  his  three-cornered  hat  in 
silence — looked  at  the  hole  in  the  middle  with  an  enquiring  air,  and 
finally  stuck  it  on  the  top  of  his  wig,  with  a  solemnity  the  effect  of 
which  was  a  trifle  impaired  by  his  sneezing  violently  at  the  moment, 
and  jerking  it  off  again. 

'* '  All  riglit ! '  cried  the  guard  with  the  lantern,  mounting  into  his 
little  seat  behind.  Away  they  went.  My  uncle  peeped  out  of  the 
coach-window  as  thev  emerged  from  the  vard,  and  observed  that  the 
other  mails,  with  coachmen,  guards,  horses,  and  passengers  complete, 
were  driving  round  and  round  in  circles,  at  a  slow  trot  of  about  five 
miles  an  hour.  My  uncle  burnt  with  indignation,  gentlemen.  As  a 
commercial  man,  he  felt  that  the  mail  bags  were  not  to  be  trifled  with, 
and  he  resolved  to  memorialise  the  Post-ofhce  upon  the  subject,  the 
very  instant  he  reached  London. 

*'  At  present,  however,  his  thoughts  were  occupied  with  the  young 
lady  who  sat  in  the  furthest  corner  of  the  coach,  with  her  face  muffled 
closely  in  her  hood :  the  gentleman  with  the  sky  blue  coat  sitting 
opposite  to  her,  and  the  other  man  in  the  plum-coloured  suit,  by  her 
side,  and  both  watching  her  intently.  If  she  so  much  as  rustled  the 
folds  of  her  hood,  he  could  hear  the  ill-looking  man  clap  his  hand  upon 
his  sword,  and  tell  by  the  other's  breathing  (it  was  so  dark  he  couldn't 
see  his  face)  that  he  was  looking  as  big  as  if  he  were  going  to  devour 
her  at  a  mouthful.  This  roused  my  uncle  more  and  more,  and  he 
resolved,  come  what  come  might,  to  see  the  end  of  it.  He  had  a  great 
admiration  for  bright  eyes,  and  sweet  faces,  and  pretty  legs  and  feet; 
in  short  he  was  fond  of  the  whole  sex.  It  runs  in  our  family,  gentle- 
meh — so  am  I, 

"Many  were  the  devices  which  my  uncle  practised  to  attract  the 
lady's  attention,  or  at  all  events,  to  engage  the  mysterious  gentlemen 
in  conversation.  They  were  all  in  vain ;  the  gentlemen  wouldn't  talk, 
and  the  lady  didn't  dare.  He  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  coach-window 
at  intervals,  and  bawled  out  to  know  why  they  didn't  go  faster.  But 
he  called  till  he  was  hoarse — nobody  paid  the  least  attention  to  him. 
He  leant  back  in  the  coach,  and  thought  of  the  beautiful  face,  and  the 
feet  and  legs.  This  answered  better  ;  it  wiled  away  the  time,  and  kept 
him  from  wondering  where  he  was  going  to,  and  how  it  was  he  found 
himself  in  such  an  odd  situation.  Not  that  this  would  have  worried 
him  much  any  way — he  was  a  mighty,  free  and  easy,  roving,  devil- 
may-care  sort  of  person,  was  my  uncle,  gentlemen. 

"All  of  a  sudden  the  coach  stopped.  'Hallo!'  said  my  uncle. 
♦  What's  in  the  wind  now  ? ' 

"  '  Alight  here,'  said  the  guard,  letting  down  the  steps. 

"  *  Here  !'  cried  my  uncle. 

**  '  Here,'  rejoined  the  guard. 

"  *  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,'  said  my  uncle. 


526  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

''  *  Very  well — then  stop  where  you  are,'  said  the  guard.  \\ 

"  '  I  will,'  said  my  uncle. 

"  '  Do,'  said  the  guard. 

"  The  other  passengers  had  regarded  this  colloquy  with  great  atten- 
tion ;  and  finding  that  my  uncle  was  determined  not  to  alight,  the 
younger  man  squeezed  past  him,  to  hand  the  lady  out.  At  this  moment 
the  ill-looking  man  was  inspecting  the  hole  in  the  crown  of  his  three- 
cornered  hat.  As  the  young  lady  brushed  past,  she  dropped  one  of  her 
gloves  into  my  uncle's  hand,  and  softly  whispered  with  her  lips,  so  close 
to  his  face  that  he  felt  her  warm  breath  on  his  nose,  the  single  word, 
'  Help  !*  Gentlemen,  my  uncle  leaped  out  of  the  coach  at  once  with 
such  violence  that  it  rocked  on  the  springs  again. 

" '  Oh  !  you've  thought  better  of  it,  have  you  ? '  said  the  guard,  when 
he  saw  my  uncle  standing  on  the  ground. 

"  My  uncle  looked  at  the  guard  for  a  few  seconds,  in  some  doubt 
whether  it  wouldn't  be  better  to  wrench  his  blunderbuss  from  him,  fire 
it  in  the  face  of  the  man  with  the  big  sword,  knock  the  rest  of  the 
company  over  the  head  with  the  stock,  snatch  up  the  young  lady,  and 
go  off  in  the  smoke.  On  second  thoughts,  however,  he  abandoned  this 
plan  as  being  a  shade  too  melodramatic  in  the  execution,  and 
followed  the  two  mysterious  men,  who,  keeping  the  lady  between  them, 
were  now  entering  an  old  house  in  front  of  which  the  coach  had 
stopped.     They  turned  into  the  passage,  and  my  uncle  followed. 

*'  Of  all  the  ruinous  and  desolate  places  my  uncle  had  ever  beheld, 
this  was  the  most  so.  It  looked  as  if  it  had  once  been  a  large  house  of 
entertainment,  but  the  roof  had  fallen  in,  in  many  places,  and  the 
stairs  were  steep,  rugged,  and  broken.  There  was  a  huge  fire-place  in 
the  room  into  which  they  walked,  and  the  chimney  was  blackened  with 
smoke,  but  no  warm  blaze  lighted  it  up  now.  The  white  feathery 
dust  of  burnt  wood  was  still  strewed  over  the  hearth,  but  the  stove 
was  cold,  and  all  was  dark  and  gloomy. 

"  '  Well,'  said  my  uncle  as  he  looked  about  him,  '  A  mail  travelling 
at  the  rate  of  six  miles  and  a  half  an  hour,  and  stopping  for  an  inde- 
finite time  at  such  a  hole  as  this,  is  rather  an  irregular  sort  of  proceed- 
ing I  fancy.     This  shall  be  made  known  ;   Til  write  to  the  papers.' 

"  My  uncle  said  this  in  a  pretty  loud  voice,  and  in  an  open  unre- 
served sort  of  manner,  with  the  view  of  engaging  the  two  strangers  in 
conversation  if  he  could.  But  neither  of  them  took  any  more  notice 
of  him  than  whispering  to  each  other,  and  scowling  at  him  as  they  did 
so.  The  lady  was  at  the  further  end  of  the  room,  and  once  she  ven- 
tured to  wave  her  hand,  as  if  beseeching  my  uncle's  assistance. 

"  At  length  the  two  strangers  advanced  a  little,  and  the  conversation 
began  in  earnest. 

"  '  You  don't  know  this  is  a  private  room ;  I  suppose,  fellow,'  said  the 
gentleman  in  sky-blue. 

"  '  No  I  do  not,  fellow,'  rejoined  my  uncle.  '  Only  if  this  is  a  private 
room  specially  ordered  for  the  occasion,  I  should  think  the  public  room 
must  be  a  very  comfortable  one;'  with  this,  my  uncle  sat  himself 
down  in  a  high- backed  chair  and  took  such  an  accurate  measure  of  the 
gentleman  with  his  eyes,  that  Tiggin  and  WeJps  could  have  supplied 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  527 

him  ^vith  printed  calico  for  a  suit,  and  not  an  inch  too  much  or  too 
little,  from  that  estimate  alone. 

*' *  Quit  this  room/  said  both  the  men  together,  grasping  their 
swords. 

**  *Eh?'  said  my  uncle,  not  at  all  appearing  to  comprehend  their 
mciming. 

*'  *  Quit  the  room,  or  you  are  a  dead  man,'  said  the  ill-looking  fellow 
with  the  large  sword,  drawing  it  at  the  same  time  and  flourishing  it  in 
the  air. 

"'Down  with  him!' said  the  gentleman  in  sky-blue,  drawing  his 
sword  also,  and  falling  back  two  or  three  yards.  '  Down  with  him  !' 
The  lady  gave  a  loud  scream, 

"  Now,  my  uncle  was  always  remarkable  for  great  boldness  and 
great  presence  of  mind.  All  the  time  that  he  had  appeared  so  indif- 
ferent to  what  was  going  on,  he  had  been  looking  slyly  about  for  some 
missile  or  weapon  of  defence,  and  at  the  very  instant  when  the  swords 
were  drawn,  he  espied  standing  in  the  chimney  corner,  an  old  basket- 
hilted  rapier  in  a  rusty  scabbard.  At  one  bound,  my  uncle  caught  it 
in  his  hand,  drew  it,  Hourished  it  gallantly  above  his  head,  called  aloud 
to  the  lady  to  keep  out  of  the  way,  hurled  the  chair  at  the  man  in  sky- 
blue,  and  the  scabbard  at  the  man  in  plum-colour,  and  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  confusion,  fell  upon  them  both,  pell-mell. 

"  Gentlemen,  there  is  an  old  story — none  the  worse  for  being  true — 
regarding  a  fine  young  Irish  gentleman,  who  being  asked  if  he  could 
play  the  fiddle,  replied  he  had  no  doubt  he  could,  but  he  couldn't 
exactly  say  for  certain,  because  he  had  never  tried.  This  is  not 
inapplicable  to  my  uncle  and  his  fencing.  He  had  never  liad  a  sword 
in  his  hand  before,  except  once  when  he  played  Richard  the  Third  at 
a  private  theatre,  upon  which  occasion  it  was  arranged  with  Richmond 
that  he  was  to  be  run  through  from  behind  without  shewing  figlit 
at  all ;  but  here  he  was,  cutting  and  slashing  with  two  experienced 
swordsmen,  thrusting,  and  guarding,  and  poking,  and  slicing,  and 
acquitting  himself  in  the  most  manful  and  dexterous  manner  possible, 
although  up  to  that  time  he  had  never  been  aware  that  he  had  the 
least  notion  of  the  science.  It  only  shows  how  true  the  old  saying  is, 
that  a  man  never  kno\^  s  what  he  can  do,  till  he  tries,  gentlemen. 

*'  The  noise  of  the  combat  was  terrific,  each  of  the  three  combatants 
swearing  like  troopers,  and  their  swords  clashing  with  as  much  noise 
as  if  all  the  knives  and  steels  in  Newport  market  were  rattling 
together  at  the  same  time.  When  it  was  at  its  very  height,  the  lady, 
to  encourage  my  uncle  most  probably,  withdrew  her  hood  entirely 
from  her  face,  and  disclosed  a  countenance  of  such  dazzling  beauty, 
that  he  would  have  fought  against  fifty  men  to  win  one  smile  from  it 
and  die.  He  had  done  wonders  before,  but  now  he  began  to  powder 
away  like  a  raving  mad  giant. 

"  At  this  very  moment,  the  gentleman  in  sky-blue  turning  round, 
and  seeing  the  young  lady  with  her  face  uncovered,  vented  an  excla- 
mation of  rage  and  jealousy  ;  and  turning  his  weapon  against  her  beau- 
tiful bosom,  pointed  a  thrust  at  her  heart  which  caused  my  uncle  to 
litter  a  cry  of  apprehension  that  made  the  building  ring.     The  lady 


528  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

stepped  lightly  aside,  and  snatching  the  young  man's  sword  from  his 
hand  before  he  had  recovered  his  balance,  drove  him  to  the  wall,  and 
running  it  through  him  and  the  pannelling  up  to  the  very  hilt,  pinned 
him  there  hard  and  fast.  It  was  a  splendid  example.  My  uncle,  with  a 
loud  shout  of  triumph  and  a  strength  that  was  irresistible,  made  his 
adversary  retreat  in  the  same  direction,  and  plunging  the  old  rapier 
into  the  very  centre  of  a  large  red  flower  in  the  pattern  of  his  waist- 
coat, nailed  him  beside  his  friend ;  there  they  both  stood,  gentlemen, 
jerking  their  arms  and  legs  about  in  agony,  like  the  toy-shop  figures 
that  are  moved  by  a  piece  of  packthread.  My  uncle  always  said  after- 
wards, that  this  was  one  of  the  surest  means  he  knew  of,  for  disposing 
of  an  enemy  ;  but  it  was  liable  to  one  objection  on  the  ground  of  expense, 
inasmuch  as  it  involved  the  loss  of  a  sword  for  every  man  disabled. 

*' '  The  mail,  the  mail !'  cried  the  lady,  running  up  to  my  uncle  and 
throwing  her  beautiful  arms  round  his  neck ;  *  we  may  yet  escape.' 

"  '  May  !  '  said  my  uncle  ;  *  why,  niy  dear,  there's  nobody  else  to 
kill,  is  there?'  My  uncle  was  rather  disappointed,  gentlemen,  for  he 
thought  a  little  quiet  bit  of  love-making  would  be  agreeable  after  the 
slaughtering,  if  it  were  only  to  change  the  subject. 

"  '  We  have  not  an  instant  to  lose  here,'  said  the  young  lady.  '  He 
(pointing  to  the  young  gentleman  in  sky  blue)  is  the  only  son  of  the 
powerful  Marquess  of  Filletoville.' 

"  '  Well  then,  my  dear,  I'm  afraid  he'll  never  come  to  the  title,'  said 
my  uncle,  looking  coolly  at  the  young  gentleman  as  he  stood  fixed  up 
against  the  wall,  in  the  cockchaffer  fashion  I  have  described.  '  You 
have  cut  off  the  entail,  my  love.' 

*'  '  I  have  been  torn  from  my  home  and  friends  by  these  villains,' 
said  the  young  lady,  her  features  glowing  with  indignation.  '  That 
wretch  would  have  married  me  by  violence  in  another  hour.' 

'^'Confound  his  impudence!'  said  my  uncle,  bestowing  a  very 
contemptuous  look  on  the  dying  heir  of  Filletoville. 

"  *  As  you  may  guess  from  what  I  have  seen,'  said  the  young  lady, 
'  the  party  are  prepared  to  murder  me  if  you  appeal  to  any  one  for 
assistance.  If  their  accomplices  find  us  here,  we  are  lost.  Two  minutes 
hence  may  be  too  late.  The  mail !' — and  with  these  words,  over- 
powered by  her  feelings  and  the  exertion  of  sticking  the  young  Mar- 
quess of  Filletoville,  she  sunk  into  my  uncle's  arms.  My  uncle  caught 
her  up,  and  bore  her  to  the  house-door.  There  stood  the  mail  with 
four  long-tailed  flowing-maned  black  horses,  ready  harnessed ;  but  no 
coachman,  no  guard,  no  ostler  even,  at  the  horses'  heads. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  hope  I  do  no  injustice  to  my  uncle's  memory,  when 
I  express  my  opinion,  that  although  he  was  a  bachelor,  he  had  held 
some  ladies  in  his  arms  before  this  time  ;  I  believe  indeed,  that  he  had 
rather  a  habit  of  kissing  barmaids,  and  I  know,  that  in  one  or  two 
instances,  he  had  been  seen  by  credible  witnesses,  to  hug  a  landlady  in 
a  very  perceptible  manner.  I  mention  the  circumstance,  to  show  what 
a  very  uncommon  sort  of  person  this  beautiful  young  lady  must  have 
been  to  have  aflTected  my  uncle  in  the  way  she  did  ;  he  used  to  say, 
that  as  her  long  dark  hair  trailed  over  his  arm,  and  her  beautiful  dark 
eyes  fixed  themselves  upon  his  face  when  she  recovered,  he  felt  so  strange 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  529 

and  nervous,  that  his  legs  trembled  beneath  him.  But  who  can  look 
in  a  sweet  soft  pair  of  dark  eyes,  without  feeling  queer  ?  I  can't, 
gentlemen.  I  am  afraid  to  look  at  some  eyes  I  know,  and  that's  the 
truth  of  it. 

" '  You  will  never  leave  me/  murmured  the  young  lady. 
'*  'Never,'  said  my  uncle.     And  he  meant  it  too* 

*' '  My  dear  preserver ! '  exclaimed  the  young  lady.  *  My  dear,  kind 
brave  preserver !' 

"'Don't,'  said  my  uncle,  interrupting  her. 

"  *  Why  ?'  enquired  the  young  lady. 

**  *  Because  your  mouth  looks  so  beautiful  when  you  speak/  rejoined 
my  uncle,  '  that  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  rude  enough  to  kiss  it.' 

'*  The  young  lady  put  up  her  hand  as  if  to  caution  my  uncle  not  to 
do  80,  and  said — no,  she  didn't  say  anything — she  smiled.  When  you 
are  looking  at  a  pair  of  the  most  delicious  lips  in  the  world,  and  see 
them  gently  break  into  a  roguish  smile — if  you  are  very  near  them,  and 
nobody  else  by — you  cannot  better  testify  your  admiration  of  their 
beautiful  form  and  colour  than  by  kissing  them  at  once.  My  uncle 
did  so,  and  I  honour  him  for  it. 

" '  Hark  ! '  cried  the  young  lady,  starting.  '  The  noise  of  wheels  and 
horses.' 

"  '  So  it  is,'  said  my  uncle,  listening.  He  had  a  good  ear  for  wheels 
and  the  trampling  of  hoofs,  but  there  appeared  to  be  so  many  horses 
and  carriages  rattling  towards  them  at  a  distance,  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  form  a  guess  at  their  number.  The  sound  was  like  that  of  lifty 
breaks,  with  six  blood  cattle  in  each. 

"  '  We  are  pursued  ! '  cried  the  young  lady,  clasping  her  hands. 
*  We  are  pursued.     I  have  no  hope  but  in  you.' 

"  There  was  such  an  expression  of  terror  in  her  beautiful  face,  that 
my  uncle  made  up  his  mind  at  once.  He  lifted  her  into  the  coach,  told 
her  not  to  be  frightened,  pressed  his  lips  to  hers  once  more,  and  then 
advising  her  to  draw  up  the  window  to  keep  the  cold  air  out,  mounted 
to  the  box. 

"  '  Stay,  love,'  cried  the  young  lady. 

" '  What's  the  matter  ? '  said  my  uncle,  from  the  coach-box. 

''  '  I  want  to  speak  to  you,'  said  the  young  lady ;  *  only  a  word- 
only  one  word,  dearest.' 

"  'Must  I  get  down?'  enquired  my  uncle.  The  lady  made  no 
answer,  but  she  smiled  again.  Such  a  smile,  gentlemen  ! — it  beat  the 
other  one  all  to  nothing.  My  uncle  descended  from  his  perch  iu  a 
twinkling. 

"  'What  is  it,  my  dear.^'  said  my  uncle,  looking  in  at  the  coach 
window.  The  lady  happened  to  bend  forward  at  the  same  time,  and 
my  uncle  thought  she  looked  more  beautiful  than  she  had  done  yet. 
He  was  very  close  to  her  just  then,  gentlemen,  so  he  really  ought  to 
know. 

"  *  What  is  it,  my  dear  ?'  said  my  uncle. 

" '  Will  you  never  love  any  one  but  me — never  marry  any  one  beside .''' 
said  the  young  lady. 

"  My  uncle  swore  a  great  oath  that  he  never  would  marry  any  body 


530  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

else,  and  the  young  lady  drew  in  her  head,  and  pulled  up  the  window. 
He  jumped  upon  the  box,  squared  his  elbows,  adjusted  the  ribands, 
seized  the  whip  which  lay  on  the  roof,  gave  one  flick  to  the  off  leader, 
and  away  went  the  four  long-tailed,  flowing-maned  black  horses,  at 
fifteen  good  English  miles  an  hour,  with  the  old  mail  coach  behind 
them — whew !  how  they  tore  along  ! 

"  But  the  noise  behind  grew  louder.  The  faster  went  the  old  mail, 
the  faster  came  the  pursuers — men,  horses,  dogs,  were  leagued  in  the 
pursuit.  The  noise  was  frightful,  but  above  all  rose  the  voice  of  the 
young  lady,  urging  my  uncle  on,  and  shrieking  'faster  !  faster  !' 

''  They  whirled  past  the  dark  trees  as  feathers  would  be  swept 
before  a  hurricane.  Houses,  gates,  churches,  haystacks,  objects  of 
every  kind  they  shot  by,  Avith  a  velocity  and  noise  like  roaring  waters 
suddenly  let  loose.  But  still  the  noise  of  pursuit  grew  louder,  and 
still  my  uncle  could  hear  the  young  lady  wildly  screaming  '  faster ! 
faster ! ' 

*'  My  uncle  plied  whip  and  rein,  and  the  horses  flew  onward  till  they 
were  white  with  foam ;  and  yet  the  noise  behind  increased,  and  yet 
the  young  lady  cried  '  faster !  faster  ! '  My  uncle  gave  a  loud  stamp 
upon  the  boot  in  the  energy  of  the  moment,  and—  found  that  it  was 
grey  morning,  and  he  was  sitting  in  the  wheelwright's  yard  on  the  box 
of  an  old  Edinburgh  mail,  shivering  with  the  cold  and  wet,  and  stamp- 
ing his  feet  to  warm  them  !  He  got  down,  and  looked  eagerly  inside 
for  the  beautiful  young  lady — alas  !  there  was  neither  door  nor  seat 
to  the  coach — it  was  a  mere  shell. 

*'  Of  course  my  uncle  knew  very  well  that  there  was  some  mystery 
in  the  matter,  and  that  everything  had  passed  exactly  as  he  used  to 
relate  it.  He  remained  staunch  to  the  great  oath  he  had  sworn  to  the 
beautiful  young  lady  :  refusing  several  eligible  landladies  on  her  account, 
and  died  a  bachelor  at  last.  He  always  said  what  a  curious  thing  it 
was  that  he  should  have  found  out,  by  such  a  mere  accident  as  his 
clambering  over  the  palings,  that  the  ghosts  of  mail-coaches  and  horses, 
guards,  coachmen,  and  passengers,  were  in  the  habit  of  making  journeys 
regularly  every  night ;  he  used  to  add  that  he  believed  he  was  the  only 
living  person  who  had  ever  been  taken  as  a  passenger  on  one  of  these 
excursions ;  and  I  think  he  was  right,  gentlemen — at  least  I  never 
heard  of  any  other." 

"  I  wonder  what  these  ghosts  of  mail-coaches  carry  in  their  bags,** 
said  the  landlord,  who  had  listened  to  the  whole  story  with  profound 
attention. 

"  The  dead  letters  of  course,"  said  the  Bagman. 

"  Oh,  ah— to  be  «ure,"  rejoined  the  landlord.  "  I  never  thought 
of  that." 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


531 


CHAPTER   XLIX. 

HOW    MR.    PICKWICK    SPED    UPON     HIS     MISSION,    AND    HOW    HE    WAS 
REINFORCED  IN  THE  OUTSET  BY  A  MOST   UNEXPECTED  AUXILIARY. 

The  horses  were  put  to,  punctually  at  a  quarter  before  nine  next 
morning,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  Weller  having  each  taken  his 
seat,  the  one  inside  and  the  other  out.  the  postilion  was  duly  directed 
to  repair  in  the  first  instance  to  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  house,  for  the  purpose 
of  taking  up  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen. 

It  was  with  feelings  of  no  small  astonishment,  when  the  carriage 
drew  up  before  the  door  with  the  red  lamp,  and  the  very  legible  inscrip- 
tion of  "  Sawyer,  late  Nockemorf,"  that  Mr.  Pickwick  saw,  on  popping 
liis  head  out  of  the  coach-window,  the  boy  in  the  grey  livevy  very 
busily  employed  in  putting  up  the  shutters:  the  which  being  an  unusual 
and  rather  un-business-like  proceeding  at  that  hour  of  the  morning,  at 
once  suggested  to  his  mind  two  inferences — the  one,  that  some  good 
friend  and  patient  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's  was  dead  ;  the  other,  that  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  himself  was  bankrupt. 

*'  What  is  the  matter  }  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick  to  the  boy. 

"  Nothing's  the  matter.  Sir,"  replied  the  boy,  expanding  his  mouth 
to  the  whole  breadth  of  his  countenance. 

*'  All  right,  all  right,''  cried  Bob  Sawyer,  suddenly  appearing  at  the 
door,  with  a  small  leathern  knapsack,  limp  and  dirty,  in  one  hand,  and  a 
rough  coat  and  shawl  thrown  over  the  other  arm.  ''  I'm  going,  old 
fellow." 

•*  You  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Yes,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer,  "and  a  regular  expedition  we'll 
make  of  it.  Here,  Sam — look  out."  Thus  briefly  bespeaking  Mr. 
Weller's  attention,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  jerked  the  leathern  knapsack  into 
the  dickey,  where  it  was  immediately  stowed  away  under  the  seat,  by 
Sam,  who  regarded  the  proceeding  with  great  admiration.  This  done, 
Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  the  assistance  of  the  boy,  forcibly  worked  him- 
self into  the  rough  coat,  which  was  a  few  sizes  too  small  for  him,  and 
then  advancing  to  the  coach  window,  thrust  in  his  head,  and  laughed 
boisterously. 

*'  What  a  start  it  is — isn't  it  ?  "  said  Bob,  wiping  the  tears  out  of  his 
eyes,  with  one  of  the  cuffs  of  the  rough  coat. 

"  My  dear  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  some  embarrassment,  ^'  I 
had  no  idea  of  your  accompanying  us." 

*'  No,  that's  just  the  very  thing,"  replied  Bob,  seizing  Mr.  Pickwick 
by  the  lappel  oF  his  coat.     "  That's  the  joke." 

"  Oh,  that's  the  joke,  is  it }"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Of  course,"  replied  Bob.     "  It's  the  whole  point  of  the  thing,  you 

p  p 


^32  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

know — that,  and  leaving  the  business  to  take  care  of  itself,  as  it  seems 
to  have  made  up  its  mind  not  to  take  care  of  me."  With  this  explana- 
tion of  the  phenomenon  of  the  shutters,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  pointed  to  the 
shop,  and  relapsed  into  an  ecstacy  of  mirth. 

"  Bless  me,  you  are  surely  not  mad  enough  to  think  of  leaving  your 
patients  without  anybody  to  attend  them  !"  remonstrated  Mr.  Pickwick 
in  a  very  serious  tone. 

*'  Why  not?"  asked  Bob,  in  reply.  "  I  shall  save  by  it,  you  know. 
None  of  them  ever  pay.  Besides,"  said  Bob,  lowering  his  voice  to  a 
confidential  whisper,  "  they  will  be  all  the  better  for  it,  for  being 
nearly  out  of  drugs  and  not  able  to  increase  my  account  just  now,  I 
should  have  been  obliged  to  give  them  calomel  all  round,  and  it  would 
have  been  certain  to  have  disagreed  with  some  of  them — so  it's  all  for 
the  best." 

There  was  a  philosophy  and  a  strength  of  reasoning  about  this  reply, 
which  Mr.  Pickwick  was  not  prepared  for.  He  paused  a  few  moments, 
and  added,  less  firmly  than  before — 

"  But  this  chaise,  my  young  friend — this  chaise  will  only  hold  two; 
and  I  am  pledged  to  Mr.  Allen." 

**  Don't  think  of  me  for  a  minute,"  replied  Bob.  "  I've  arranged  it 
all ;  Sam  and  I  will  share  the  dickey  between  us.  Look  here.  This 
little  bill  is  to  be  wafered  on  the  shop-door  :  *  Sawyer,  late  Nockemorf. 
Enquire  of  Mrs.  Cripps  over  the  way.' — Mrs.  Cripps  is  my  boy's 
mother. — *  Mr.  Sawyer's  very  sorry,'  says  Mrs.  Cripps,  '  couldn't  help  it 
— fetched  away  early  this  morning  to  a  consultation  of  the  very  first 
surgeons  in  the  country — couldn't  do  without  him — would  have  him  at 
any  price — tremendous  operation.'  The  fact  is,"  said  Bob,  in  con- 
clusion— "■  It'll  do  me  more  good  than  otherwise,  I  expect.  If  it  gets 
into  one  of  the  local  papers*  it  will  be  the  making  of  me.  Here's  Ben 
— now  then,  jump  in." 

W^ith  these  hurried  words,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  pushed  the  postboy  on 
one  side,  jerked  his  friend  into  the  vehicle,  slammed  the  door,  put  up 
the  steps,  wafered  the  bill  on  the  street-door,  locked  it,  put  the  key  in 
his  pocket,  jumped  into  the  dickey,  gave  the  word  for  starting;  and 
did  the  whole  with  such  extraordinary  precipitation,  that  before  Mr. 
Pickwick  had  well  begun  to  consider  whether  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  ought 
to  go  or  not,  they  were  rolling  away  with  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  thoroughly 
established  as  part  and  parcel  of  the  equipage. 

So  long  as  their  progress  was  confined  to  the  streets  of  Bristol,  the 
facetious  Bob  kept  his  professional  green  spectacles  on,  and  conducted 
himself  with  becoming  steadiness  and  gravity  of  demeanour,  merely 
giving  utterance  to  divers  verbal  witticisms  for  the  exclusive  behoof  and 
entertainment  of  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  but  when  they  emerged  upon  the 
open  road,  he  threw  oflf  his  green  spectacles  and  his  gravity  together, 
and  performed  a  great  variety  of  practical  jokes,  which  were  rather 
calculated  perhaps  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  passers-by,  and  to 
render  the  carriage  and  those  it  contained,  objects  of  more  than  ordinary 
curiosity;  the  least  conspicuous  among  these  feats  being  a  most 
vociferous  imitation  of  a  key- bugle,  and  the  ostentatious  display  of  a 
crimson  silk  pocket-handkerchief  attached  to  a  walking-stick,  which 


w 


f 


#  * 


s 


II 


•^dr^ 


\ 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


533 


was  occasionally  waved  in  the  air  with  various  gestures  indicative  of 
supremacy  and  defiance. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  stopping  in  the  midst  of  a  most 
sedate  conversation  with  Ben  Allen,  bearing  reference  to  the  numerous 
good  qualities  of  Mr.  Winkle  and  his  sister — "  I  wonder  what  all  the 
people  we  pass,  can  see  in  us  to  make  them  stare  so.'' 

"  It's  a  neat  turn-out,"  replied  Ben  Allen,  with  something  of  pride 
in  his  tone.  "  They're  not  used  to  see  this  sort  of  thing  every  day,  I 
dare  say." 

"  Possibly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  It  may  be  so.    Perhaps  it  is." 

Mr.  Pickwick  might  very  probably  have  reasoned  himself  into  the 
belief  that  it  really  was,  had  he  not,  just  then  happening  to  look  out 
of  the  coach  window,  observed  that  the  looks  of  the  passengers  betokened 
anything  but  respectful  astonishment,  and  that  various  telegraphic 
communications  appeared  to  be  passing  between  them  and  some  persons 
outside  the  vehicle,  whereupon  it  all  at  once  occurred  to  him  that  these 
demonstrations  might  be,  in  some  remote  degree,  referable  to  the 
humorous  deportment  of  Mr.  Robert  Sawyer. 

"I  hope,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  that  our  volatile  friend  is  committing 
no  absurdities  in  that  dickey  behind." 

"  Oh  dear,  no,"  replied  Ben  Allen.  "  Except  when  he's  elevated, 
Bob's  the  quietest  creature  breathing." 

Here  a  prolonged  imitation  of  a  key-bugle  broke  upon  the  ear,  suc- 
ceeded by  cheers  and  screams,  all  of  which  evidently  proceeded  from 
the  throat  and  lungs  of  the  quietest  creature  breathing,  or  in  plainer 
designation,  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  himself. 

Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  looked  expressively  at  each  other, 
and  the  former  gentleman  taking  off  his  hat,  and  leaning  out  of  the 
coach  window  till  nearly  the  whole  of  his  waistcoat  was  outside  it,  was 
at  length  enabled  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  his  facetious  friend. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  was  seated,  not  in  the  dickey,  but  on  the  roof  of  the 
chaise,  with  his  legs  as  far  asunder  as  they  would  conveniently  go, 
wearing  Mr.  Samuel  Weller's  hat  on  one  side  of  his  head,  and  bearing  in 
one  hand  a  most  enormous  sandwich,  while  in  the  other  he  supported  a 
goodly-sized  case  bottle,  to  both  of  which  he  applied  himself  with 
intense  relish,  varying  the  monotony  of  the  occupation  by  an  occasional 
howl,  or  the  interchange  of  some  lively  badinage  with  any  passing 
stranger.  The  crimson  flag  was  carefully  tied  in  an  erect  position  to 
the  rail  of  the  dickey,  and  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  decorated  with  Bob 
Sawyer's  hat,  was  seated  in  the  centre  thereof,  discussing  a  twin 
sandwich  with  an  animated  countenance,  the  expression  of  which 
betokened  his  entire  and  perfect  approval  of  the  whole  arrangement. 

This  was  enough  to  irritate  a  gentleman  with  Mr.  Pickwick's  sense 
of  propriety,  but  it  was  not  the  whole  extent  of  the  aggravation,  for  a 
stage-coach  full,  inside  and  out,  was  meeting  them  at  the  moment,  and 
the  astonishment  of  the  passengers  was  very  palpably  evinced.  The 
congratulations  of  an  Irish  family,  too,  who  were  keeping  up  with  the 
chaise,  and  begging  all  the  time,  were  of  rather  a  boisterous  descrip- 
tion ;  especially  those  of  its  male  head,  who  appeared  to  consider  the 

pp2 


I 


534  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

display  as  part  and  parcel  of  some  political,  or  other  procession  of 
triumph. 

"  Mr.  Sawyer,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  state  of  great  excitement. 
''  Mr.  Sawyer,  Sir ! " 

"  Hallo ! "  responded  that  gentleman,  looking  over  the  side  of  the 
chaise  with  all  the  coolness  in  life. 

"  Are  you  mad,  Sir  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  Bob,  "  only  cheerful." 

"Cheerful,  Sir!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick.  "Take  down  that 
scandalous  red  handkerchief.  I  beg — I  insist.  Sir.  Sam,  take  it 
down." 

Before  Sam  could  interpose,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  gracefully  struck  his 
colours,  and  having  put  them  in  his  pocket,  nodded  in  a  courteous 
manner  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  wiped  the  mouth  of  the  case -bottle,  and 
applied  it  to  his  own  ;  thereby  informing  him,  without  any  unnecessary 
waste  of  words,  that  he  devoted  that  draught  to  wishing  him  all  manner 
of  happiness  and  prosperity.  Having  done  this,  Bob  replaced  the 
cork  with  great  care,  and  looking  benignantly  down  on  Mr.  Pickwick, 
took  a  large  bite  out  of  the  sandwich,  and  smiled. 

*"Come,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  whose  momentary  anger  was  not  quite 
proof  against  Bob's  immoveable  self  possession,  *'  prav  let  us  have  no 
more  of  this  absurdity.  Sir." 

*'  No,  no,"  replied  Bob,  once  more  exchanging  hats  with  Mr.  Wel- 
ler ;  "  I  didn't  mean  to  do  it,  only  I  got  so  enlivened  with  the  ride  that 
I  couldn't  help  it." 

''Think  of  the  look  of  the  thing,"  expostulated  Mr.  Pickwick; 
"have  some  regard  to  appearances." 

"Oh,  certainly,''  said  Bob,  "it's  not  the  sort  of  thing  at  all.  All 
over,  governor." 

Satisfied  with  this  assurance,  Mr.  Pickwick  once  more  drew  his  head 
into  the  chaise  and  pulled  up  the  glass ;  but  he  had  scarcely  resumed 
the  conversation  which  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  had  interrupted,  when  he  was 
somewhat  startled  by  the  apparition  of  a  small  dark  body,  of  an  oblong 
form,  on  the  outside  of  the  window,  which  gave  sundry  taps  against  it, 
as  if  impatient  of  admission. 

"  What's  this  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"It  looks  like  a  case-bottle;"  remarked  Ben  Allen,  eyeing  the  ob- 
ject in  question  through  his  spectacles  with  some  interest ;  "  I  rather 
think  it  belongs  to  Bob.'' 

The  impression  was  perfectly  accurate,  for  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  having 
attached  the  case-bottle  to  the  end  of  the  walking-stick,  was  battering 
the  window  with  it,  in  token  of  his  wish  that  his  friends  inside  would 
partake  of  its  contents,  in  all  good  fellowship  and  harmony. 

"  What's  to  be  done  ? "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  the  bottle. 
**  This  proceeding  is  more  absurd  than  the  other." 

"I  think  it  would  be  best  to  take  it  in,"  replied  Mr.  Ben  Allen; 
"  it  would  serve  him  right  to  take  it  in  and  keep  it,  wouldn't  it }  " 

"It  would,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick:  "shall  I}" 

"  I  think  it  the  most  proper  course  we  could  possibly  adopt,"  replied 
Ben. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  535 

This  advice  quite  coinciding  with  his  own  opinion,  Mr.  Pickwick 
gently  let  down  the  window  and  disengaged  the  bottle  from  the  stick ; 
upon  which  the  latter  was  drawn  up,  and  Mr,  Bob  Sawyer  was  hear4 
to  laugh  heartily. 

"  What  a  merry  dog  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round  at  his 
companion  with  the  bottle  in  his  hand. 

*'  He  is,"  said  Mr.  Allen. 

"  You  cannot  possibly  be  angry  with  him,"  remarked  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*' Quite  out  of  the  question,"  observed  Benjamin  Allen. 

During  this  short  interchange  of  sentiments,  Mr.  Pickwick  had,  in 
an  abstracted  mood,  uncorked  the  bottle. 

'*  What  is  it?"    enquired  Ben  Allen,  carelessly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  equal  carelessness. 
"  It  smells,  I  think,  like  milk  punch." 

*^0h,  indeed!"  said  Ben. 

''I  thiJi/c  so,*'*  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  very  properly  guarding  him- 
self against  the  possibility  of  stating  an  untruth  :  ''  mind,  I  could  not 
undertake  to  say  for  certain,  without  tasting  it." 

"  You  had  better  do  so,"  said  Ben ;  "we  may  as  well  know  what  it 
is.'' 

"  Do  you  think  so?"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Well,  if  you  are  curi- 
ous to  know,  of  course  I  have  no  objection." 

Ever  willing  to  sacrifice  his  own  feelings  to  the  wishes  of  his  friend, 
Mr.  Pickwick  at  once  took  a  pretty  long  taste. 

"  What  is  it  ? ''  enquired  Ben  Allen,  interrupting  him  with  some 
impatience. 

"  Curious,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smacking  his  lips,  "  I  hardly  know, 
now.    Oh,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  a  second  taste,  "it  «*  punch." 

Mr.  Ben  Allen  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick ;  Mr,  Pickwick  looked  at 
Mr.  Ben  Allen.     Mr.  Ben  Allen  smiled  ;  Mr.  Pickwick  did  not. 

"  It  would  serve  him  right,"  said  the  last-named  gentleman  with 
some  severity,  '*  it  would  serve  him  right  to  drink  it  every  drop." 

"  The  very  thing  that  occurred  to  me,"  said  Ben  Allen. 

"  Is  it  indeed  !  "  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Then  here's  his  health." 
With  these  words,  that  excellent  person  took  a  most  energetic  pull  at 
the  bottle,  and  handed  it  to  Ben  Allen,  who  was  not  slow  to  imitate 
his  example.  Tiie  smiles  became  mutual,  and  the  milk-punch  was 
gradually  and  cheerfully  disposed  of. 

"After  all,"  said  iMr.  Pickwick,  as  he  drained  the  last  drop,  *'his 
pranks  are  really  very  amusing — very  entertaining  indeed." 

"  You  may  say  that,"  rejoined  Mr.  Ben  Allen.  And  in  proof  of 
Bob  Sawyer's  being  one  of  the  funniest  fellows  alive,  he  proceeded  to 
entertain  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  long  and  circumstantial  account  how 
that  gentleman  once  drank  himself  into  a  fever  and  got  his  head  shaved  ; 
the  relation  of  which  pleasant  and  agreeable  history  was  only  stopped 
by  the  stoppage  of  the  chaise  at  the  Bell  at  Berkeley  Heath,  to  change 
horses. 

*'  I  say,  we're  going  to  dine  here,  aren't  we  ?  "  said  Bob,  looking  in 
at  the  window. 


536  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Dine ! "  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  ''  Why,  we  have  only  come  nineteen 
miles,  and  have  got  eighty-seven  and  a  half  to  go." 

"  Just  the  reason  why  we  should  take  something  to  enable  us  to 
bear  up  against  the  fatigue/'  remonstrated  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer. 

<^  Oh,  it's  quite  impossible  to  dine  at  half-past  eleven  o'clock  in  the 
day/'  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  his  watch. 

"  So  it  is,"  rejoined  Bob,  "  lunch  is  the  very  thing.  Hallo,  you  Sir ! 
Lunch  for  three  directly ;  and  keep  the  horses  back  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.  Tell  them  to  put  every  thing  they  have  got  cold,  on  the  table, 
and  some  bottled  ale, — and  let  us  taste  your  very  best  Madeira." 
Issuing  these  orders  Avith  monstrous  importance  and  bustle,  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer  at  once  hurried  into  the  house  to  superintend  the  arrange- 
ments ;  in  less  than  five  minutes  he  returned  and  declared  them  to  be 
excellent. 

The  quality  of  the  lunch  fully  justified  the  eulogium  which  Bob  had 
pronounced,  and  very  great  justice  was  done  to  it,  not  only  by  that 
gentleman,  but  Mr.  Ben  Allen  and  Mr.  Pickwick  also.  Under  the 
auspices  of  the  three,  the  bottled  ale  and  the  Madeira  were  promptly 
disposed  of;  and  when  (the  horses  being  once  more  put  to)  they  re- 
sumed their  seats,  with  the  case-bottle  full  of  the  best  substitute  for 
milk-punch  that  could  be  procured  on  so  short  a  notice,  the  key-bugle 
sounded  and  the  red  flag  waved  without  the  slightest  opposition  on 
Mr.  Pickwick's  part. 

At  the  Hop  Pole  at  Tewkesbury  they  stopped  to  dine ;  upon  which 
occasion  there  was  more  bottled  ale,  with  some  more  Madeira,  and  some 
Port  besides ;  and  here  the  case-bottle  was  replenished  for  the  fourth 
time.  Under  the  influence  of  these  combined  stimulants,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  fell  fast  asleep  for  thirty  miles,  while  Bob 
and  Mr.  Weller  sang  duets  in  the  dickey. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  Mr.  Pickwick  roused  himself  sufficiently  to 
look  out  of  the  window.  The  straggling  cottages  by  the  road -side, 
the  dingy  hue  of  every  object  visible,  the  murky  atmosphere,  the  paths 
of  cinders  and  brick  dust,  the  deep  red  glow  of  furnace  fires  in  the  dis- 
tance, the  volumes  of  dense  smoke  issuing  heavily  forth  from  high 
toppling  chimneys,  blackening  and  obscuring  every  thing  around ;  the 
glare  of  distant  lights,  the  ponderous  waggons  which  toiled  along  the 
road,  laden  with  clashing  rods  of  iron,  or  piled  with  heavy  goods — all 
betokened  their  rapid  approach  to  the  great  working  town  of  Birming- 
ham. 

As  they  rattled  through  the  narrow  thoroughfares  leading  to  the 
heart  of  the  turmoil,  the  sights  and  sounds  of  earnest  occupation  struck 
more  forcibly  on  the  senses.  The  streets  were  thronged  with  work- 
ing-people. The  hum  of  labour  resounded  from  every  house ;  lights 
gleamed  from  the  long  casement  windows  in  the  attic  stories,  and  the 
whirl  of  wheels  and  noise  of  machinery  shook  the  trembling  walls. 
The  fires,  whose  lurid  sullen  light  had  been  visible  for  miles,  blazed 
fiercely  up  in  the  great  works  and  factories  of  the  town.  The  din  of 
hammers,  the  rushing  of  steam,  and  the  dead  heavy  clanking  of  the 
engines,  was  the  harsh  music  which  arose  from  every  quarter. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  537 

The  postboy  was  driving  briskly  through  the  open  streets  and  past 
the  handsome  and  well-lighted  shops  which  intervene  between  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town  and  the  old  Royal  Hotel,  before  Mr.  Pickwick  had 
begun  to  consider  the  very  difficult  and  delicate  nature  of  the  commis- 
sion which  had  carried  him  thither. 

The  delicate  nature  of  this  commission,  and  the  difficulty  of 
executing  it  in  a  satisfactory  manner,  were  by  no  means  lessened  by 
the  voluntary  companionship  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer:  truth  to  tell,  Mr. 
Pickwick  felt  that  his  presence  on  the  occasion,  however  considerate 
and  gratifying,  was  by  no  means  an  honour  he  would  willingly  have 
sought ;  in  fact  he  would  cheerfully  have  given  a  reasonable  sum  of 
money  to  have  had  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  removed  to  any  place  of  not  less 
than  fifty  miles'  distance  without  delay. 

Mr.  PickAvick  had  never  held  any  personal  communication  with 
Mr.  Winkle,  Senior,  although  he  had  once  or  twice  corresponded 
with  him  by  letter,  and  returned  satisfactory  answers  to  his  enquiries 
concerning  the  moral  character  and  behaviour  of  his  son ;  he  felt 
nervously  sensible  that  to  wait  upon  him  for  the  first  time  attended 
by  Bob  Sawyer  and  Ben  Allen,  both  slightly  fuddled,  was  not  the 
most  ingenious  and  likely  means  that  could  have  been  hit  upon  to 
prepossess  him  in  his  favour. 

"  However/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  endeavouring  to  re-assure  himself, 
",  I  must  do  the  best  [  can :  I  must  see  him  to-night,  for  I  faithfully 
promised  to  do  so ;  and  if  they  persist  in  accompanying  me,  I  must 
make  the  interview  as  brief  as  possible,  and  be  content  to  hope  that, 
for  their  own  sakes,  thev  will  not  expose  themselves." 

As  he  comforted  himself  with  these  reflections,  the  chaise  stopped  at 
the  door  of  the  Old  Royal.  Ben  Allen  having  been  partially  awakened 
from  a  stupendous  sleep,  and  dragged  out  by  the  collar  by  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller,  IMr.  Pickwick  was  enabled  to  alight.  They  were  shown  to  a 
comfortable  apartment,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  at  once  propounded  a 
question  to  the  waiter  concerning  the  whereabout  of  Mr.  Winkle's 
residence. 

"  Close  by.  Sir,"  said  the  waiter,  "not  above  five  hundred  yards, 
Sir.  Mr.  Winkle  is  a  wharfinger.  Sir,  at  the  canal,  Sir.  Private 
residence  is  not — oh  dear  no.  Sir,  not  five  hundred  yards,  Sir."  Here 
the  waiter  blew  a  candle  out  and  made  a  feint  of  lighting  it  again,  in 
order  to  afl^ord  Mr.  Pickwick  an  opportunity  of  asking  any  further 
questions,  if  he  felt  so  disposed. 

"  Take  anything  now,  Sir  }  "  said  the  waiter,  lighting  the  candle 
in  desperation  at  Mr.  Pickwick's  silence.  "  Tea  or  cofifee,  Sir  ? 
dinner.  Sir  }  " 

**  Nothing  now." 

"  Very  good.  Sir.     Like  to  order  supper.  Sir  }  " 

"  Not  just  now." 

"  Very  good.  Sir."  Here  he  walked  softly  to  the  door,  and  then 
stopping  short,  turned  round  and  said  with  great  suavity — 

"  Shall  I  send  the  chambermaid,  gentlemen  }  " 

"  You  may  if  you  please,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwiclv, 

*'  \i  you  please.  Sir." 


538  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"And  bring  some  soda  water,"  said  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  Soda  water.  Sir  ?  Yes,  Sir."  And  with  his  mind  apparently 
relieved  from  an  overwhelming  weight,  by  having  at  last  got  an  order 
for  something,  the  waiter  imperceptibly  melted  away.  Waiters  never 
walk  or  run.  Tliey  have  a  peculiar  and  mysterious  power  of  skimming 
out  of  rooms,  which  other  mortals  possess  not. 

Some  slight  symptoms  of  vitality  having  been  awakened  in  Mr. 
Ben  Allen  by  the  soda  water,  he  suffered  himself  to  be  prevailed 
upon  to  wash  his  face  and  hands,  and  to  submit  to  be  brushed  by  Sam. 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  Bob  Sawyer  having  also  repaired  the  disorder 
which  the  journey  had  made  in  their  apparel^  the  three  started  forth, 
arm  in  arm,  to  Mr.  Winkle's  ;  Bob  Sawyer  impregnating  the  atmo- 
sphere with  tobacco  smoke  as  he  walked  along. 

About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  in  a  quiet,  substantial-looking  street, 
stood  an  old  red-brick  house  with  three  steps  before  the  door,  and  a 
brass  plate  upon  it,  bearing  in  fat  Roman  capitals  the  words,  ''  Mr. 
Winkle."  Tlie  steps  were  very  white,  and  the  bricks  were  very  red, 
and  the  house  was  very  clean  ;  and  here  stood  Mr.  Pickwick,  Mr. 
Benjamin  Allen,  and  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  as  the  clock  struck  ten. 

A  smart  servant  girl  answered  the  knock,  and  started  on  beholding 
the  three  strangers, 

"Is  Mr.  Winkle  at  home,  my  dear  ?  "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  He  is  just  going  to  supper,  Sir,"  replied  the  girl. 

"  Give  him  that  card  if  you  please,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick.  "Say 
I  am  sorry  to  trouble  him  at  so  late  an  hour  ;  but  I  am  anxious  to  see 
him  to-night,  and  have  only  just  arrived." 

The  girl  looked  timidly  at  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  who  was  expressing 
his  admiration  of  her  personal  charms  by  a  variety  of  wonderful 
grimaces,  and  casting  an  eye  at  the  hats  and  great-coats  which  hung 
in  the  passage,  called  another  girl  to  mind  the  door  while  she  went  up 
stairs.  The  sentinel  was  speedily  relieved,  for  the  girl  returned 
immediately,  and  begging  pardon  of  the  gentlemen  for  leaving  them 
in  tlie  street,  ushered  them  into  a  floor-clothed  back  parlour,  half 
office  and  half  dressing  room,  in  which  the  principal  useful  and 
ornamental  articles  of  furniture  were  a  desk,  a  wash-hand  stand  and 
shaving  glass,  a  boot-rack  and  boot-jack,  a  high  stool,  four  chairs,  a 
table,  and  an  old  eight-day  clock.  Over  the  mantel-piece  were  the 
sunken  doors  of  an  iron  safe,  while  a  couple  of  hanging  shelves  for 
books,  an  almanack,  and  several  files  of  dusty  papers,  decorated 
the  walls. 

"  Very  sorry  to  leave  you  standing  at  the  door.  Sir,"  said  the  girl, 
lighting  a  lamp,  and  addressing  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  winning  smile, 
'*  but  you  was  quite  strangers  to  me ;  and  we  have  such  a  many 
trampers  that  only  come  to  see  what  they  can  lay  their  hands  on, 
that  really—" 

"  There  is  not  the  least  occasion  for  any  apology,  my  dear,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick  good  humouredly. 

"  Not  the  slightest,  my  love,"  said  Bob  Sawyer,  playfully  stretching 
forth  his  arms,  and  skipping  from  side  to  side,  as  if  to  prevent  the 
young  lady's  learing  the  room. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  g39 

The  young  lady  was  not  at  all  softened  by  these  allurements,  for 
she  at  once  expressed  her  opinion  that  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  Avas  an 
"  odous  creetur ;  '  and,  on  his  becoming  rather  more  pressing  in  his 
attentions,  imprinted  her  fair  fingers  upon  his  face,  and  bounced  out 
of  the  room  with  many  expressions  of  aversion  and  contempt. 

Deprived  of  the  young  lady's  society,  i\rr.  Bob  Sawyer  proceeded 
to  divert  himself  by  peeping  into  the  desk,  looking  into  all  the  table- 
drawers,  feigning  to  pick  the  lock  of  the  iron  safe,  turning  the 
almanack  with  its  face  to  the  wall,  trying  Mr.  Winkle  senior's  boots 
on,  over  his  own,  and  making  several  other  humorous  experiments 
upon  the  furniture,  all  of  which  afforded  Mr.  Pickwick  unspeakable 
horror  and  agony,  and  yielded  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  proportionate  delight. 

At  length  the  door  opened,  and  a  little  old  gentleman  in  a  snuff- 
coloured  suit,  with  a  head  and  face  the  precise  counterpart  of  those 
belonging  to  Mr.  Winkle  junior,  excepting  that  he  was  rather  bald, 
trotted  into  the  room  with  Mr.  Pickwick's  card  in  one  hand,  and  a 
silver  candlestick  in  the  other. 

^' Mr.  Pickwick,  Sir,  how  do  you  do?"  said  Winkle  the  elder, 
putting  down  the  candlestick  and  proffering  his  hand.  *'  Hope  I  see 
you  well,  Sir.  Glad  to  see  you.  Be  seated,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  beg 
Sir.     This  gentleman  is — " 

"  My  friend  Mr.  Sawyer,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick,  ''  your  son's 
friend." 

**  Oh,"  said  Mr.  Winkle  the  elder,  looking  rather  grimly  at  Bob. 
"  I  hope  you  are  well.  Sir." 

"  Right  as  a  trivet,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer. 

"This  other  gentleman,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  '*  is,  as  you  will  see 
when  you  have  read  the  letter  with  which  I  am  entrusted,  a  verv  near 
relative,  or  I  should  rather  say  a  very  particular  friend  of  your  son's . 
His  name  is  Allen." 

*'  That  gentleman?"  enquired  Mr.  Winkle,  pointing  with  the 
card  towards  Ben  Allen,  who  had  fallen  asleep  in  an  attitude  which 
left  nothing  of  him  visible  but  his  spine  and  his  coat  collar. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  on  the  point  of  replying  to  the  question,  and 
reciting  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen's  name  and  honourable  distinctions  at 
full  length,  when  the  sprightly  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  with  the  view  of 
rousing  his  friend  to  a  sense  of  his  situation,  inflicted  a  startling  pinch 
upon  the  fleshy  part  of  his  arm,  which  caused  him  to  jump  up  with  a 
loud  shriek.  Suddenly  aware  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  a 
stranger,  Mr.  Ben  Allen  advanced  and,  shaking  Mr.  Winkle  most 
affectionately  by  both  hands  for  about  five  minutes,  murmured  in  some 
half-intelligible  fragments  of  sentences  the  great  delight  he  felt  in 
seeing  him,  and  a  hospitable  enquiry,  whether  he  felt  disposed  to  take 
anything  after  his  walk,  or  would  prefer  waiting  *'  till  dinner-time  ;" 
which  done,  he  sat  down  and  gazed  about  him  with  a  petrified  stare 
as  if  he  had  not  the  remotest  idea  where  he  was,  which  indeed  he 
Lad  not. 

All  this  was  most  embarrassing  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  the  more  especially 
as  Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  evinced  palpable  astonishment  at  the  eccentric 
—not  to  say  extraordinary — behaviour  of  his  two  companions.     To 


I 


540  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

bring  the  matter  to  an  issue  at  once,  he  drew  a  letter  from  his  pocket, 
and  presenting  it  to  Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  said — 

"  This  letter,  Sir,  is  from  your  son.  You  will  see  by  its  contents 
that  on  your  favourable  and  fatherly  consideration  of  it,  depend  his 
future  happiness  and  welfare.  Will  you  oblige  me  by  giving  it  the 
calmest  and  coolest  perusal,  and  by  discussing  the  subject  afterw.irds, 
with  me,  in  the  tone  and  spirit  in  which  alone  it  ought  to  be  discussed? 
You  may  judge  of  the  importance  your  decision  is  of,  to  your  son,  and  his 
intense  anxiety  upon  the  subject,  by  my  waiting  upon  you  without  any 
previous  warning  at  so  late  an  hour;  and,"  added  Mr.  Pickwick, 
glancing  slightly  at  his  two  companions,  ''  and  under  such  unfavourable 
circumstances." 

With  this  prelude,  Mr.  Pickwick  placed  four  closely  written  sides  of 
extra  superfine  wire-wove  penitence  in  the  hands  of  the  astounded  Mr. 
Winkle,  senior ;  and  reseating  himself  in  his  chair,  watched  his  looks 
and  manner,  anxiously  it  is  true,  but  with  the  open  front  of  a  gentle- 
man who  feels  he  has  taken  no  part  which  he  need  excuse  or  palliate. 

The  old  wharfinger  turned  the  letter  over ;  looked  at  the  front,  back, 
and  sides ;  made  a  microscopic  examination  of  the  fat  little  boy  on  the 
seal ;  raised  his  eyes  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  face ;  and  then,  seating  himself 
on  the  high  stool  and  drawing  the  lamp  closer  to  him,  broke  the  wax, 
unfolded  the  epistle,  and  lifting  it  to  the  light,  prepared  to  read. 

Just  at  this  moment,  Mr.  Eob  Sawyer,  whose  wit  had  lain  dormant 
for  some  minutes,  placed  his  hands  upon  his  knees  and  made  a  face 
after  the  portraits  of  the  late  Mr.  Grimaldi,  as  clown.  It  so  happened 
that  Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  instead  of  being  deeply  engaged  in  reading 
the  letter,  as  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  thought,  chanced  to  be  looking  over  the 
top  of  it  at  no  less  a  person  than  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  himself;  and  rightly 
conjecturing  that  the  face  aforesaid  was  made  in  ridicule  and  derision 
of  his  own  person,  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  Bob  with  such  expressive  stern- 
ness, that  the  late  Mr.  Grimaldi's  lineaments  gradually  resolved  them- 
selves into  a  very  fine  expression  of  humility  and  confusion. 

"Did  you  speak,  Sir.?"  enquired  Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  after  an 
awful  silence. 

"  No,  Sir,"  replied  Bob,  with  no  remains  of  the  clown  about  him, 
save  and  except  the  extreme  redness  of  his  cheeks. 

"  You  are  sure  you  did  not.  Sir  ?  "  said  Mr.  Winkle,  senior. 

"  Oh  dear  !  yes.  Sir,  quite,"  replied  Bob. 

*^  I  thought  you  did.  Sir,"  rejoined  the  old  gentleman,  with  indignant 
emphasis.     "  Perhaps  you  looked  at  me.  Sir.'*'' 

"  Oh,  no!  Sir,  not  at  all,"  replied  Bob,  with  extreme  civility. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  senior.  Having 
frowned  upon  the  abashed  Bob  with  great  magnificence,  the  old  gen- 
tleman again  brought  the  letter  to  the  light,  and  began  to  read  it 
seriously. 

Mr.  Pickwick  eyed  him  intently  as  he  turned  from  the  bottom  line 
of  the  first  page  to  the  top  line  of  the  second,  and  from  the  bottom  of 
the  second  to  the  top  of  the  third,  and  from  the  bottom  of  the  third  to 
the  top  of  the  fourth  ;  but  not  the  slightest  alteration  of  countenance 


THE    PICKWICK  CLUB.  541 

afforded  a  clue  to  the  feelings  with  which  he  received  the  announce- 
ment of  his  son's  marriage,  which  INIr.  Pickwick  knew  was  in  the  very 
first  half-dozen  lines. 

He  read  the  letter  to  the  last  word,  folded  it  again  with  all  the  care- 
fulness and  precision  of  a  man  of  business ;  and,  just  when  IMr.  Pick- 
wick expected  some  great  outbreak  of  feeling,  dipped  a  pen  in  the  ink- 
stand, and  said  as  quietly  as  if  he  were  speaking  on  the  most  ordinary 
counting-house  topic — 

''  What  is  Nathaniel's  address,  Mr.  Pickwick?" 

"  The  George  and  Vulture,  at  present,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

"  George  and  Vulture.     Where  is  that }  " 

"  Sun  Court,  Cornhill." 

*'  In  the  City.>" 

"  Yes." 

The  old  gentleman  methodically  indorsed  the  address  on  the  back  of 
the  letter ;  and  then  placing  it  in  the  desk,  which  he  locked,  said  as 
he  got  off  the  stool  and  put  the  bunch  of  keys  in  his  pocket — 

'*  I  suppose  there  is  nothing  else  which  need  detain  us,  Mr. 
Pickwick  r" 

"  Nothing  else,  my  dear  Sir  ! "  observed  that  warm-hearted  person 
in  indignant  amazement.  "  Nothing  else  !  Have  you  no  opinion  to 
express  on  this  momentous  event  in  our  young  friend's  life ;  no  as- 
surance to  convey  to  him,  through  me,  of  the  continuance  of  your  affec- 
tion and  protection ;  nothing  to  say  which  will  cheer  and  sustain  him, 
and  the  anxious  girl  who  looks  to  him  for  comfort  and  support  }  My 
dear  Sir,  consider." 

"  I  will  consider,"  replied  the  old  gentleman.  "  I  have  nothing  to 
say  just  now.  I  am  a  man  of  business,  Mr.  Pickwick ;  I  never  commit 
myself  hastily  in  any  affair,  and  from  what  I  see  of  this,  I  by  no  means 
like  the  appearance  of  it.  A  thousand  pounds  is  not  much,  Mr. 
Pickwick." 

*'  You're  very  right,  Sir,"  interposed  Ben  Allen,  just  awake  enough 
to  know  that  he  had  spent  his  thousand  pounds  without  the  smallest 
diflBcultv.  "  You're  an  intelligent  man;  Bob,  he's  a  very  knowing 
fellow  this." 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  find  that  you  do  me  the  justice  to  make  the 
admission.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  senior,  looking  contemptuously  at 
Ben  Allen,  who  was  shaking  his  h"ead  profoundly.  "  The  fact  is,  Mr. 
Pickwick,  that  when  I  gave  my  son  a  roving  license  for  a  year  or  so  to 
see  something  of  men  and  manners  (which  he  has  done  under  your  aus- 
pices), so  that  he  might  not  enter  into  life  a  mere  boarding-school  milk- 
sop to  be  gulled  by  every  body,  I  never  bargained  for  this.  He  knows  that 
very  well,  so  if  1  uithdraw  my  countenance  from  him  on  this  account, 
he  has  no  call  to  be  surprised.  He  shall  hear  from  me,  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Good  night.  Sir.     Margaret,  open  the  door." 

All  this  time  Bob  Sawyer  had  been  nudging  Mr.  Ben  Allen  to  say 
something  on  the  right  side ;  and  Ben  accordingly  now  burst  out, 
without  the  slightest  preliminary  notice,  into  a  brief  but  impassioned 
piece  of  eloquence. 


542 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OP 


*'  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen,  staring  at  the  old  gentleman,  through  a 
pair  of  very  dim  and  languid  eyes,  and  working  his  right  arm  vehemently 
up  and  down,  "  you — you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself." 

"  As  the  lady's  brother,  of  course  you  are  an  excellent  judge  of  the 
question,"  retorted  Blr  Winkle,  senior.  "  There ;  that's  enough. 
Pray  say  no  more,  Mr.  Pickwick.     Good  night,  gentlemen." 

With  these  words  the  old  gentleman  took  up  the  candlestick,  and 
opening  the  room  door,  politely  motioned  towards  the  passage. 

''  You  will  regret  this.  Sir/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  setting  his  teeth 
close  together  to  keep  down  his  choler ;  for  he  felt  how  important  the 
effort  might  prove  to  his  young  friend. 

"  I  am  at  present  of  a  different  opinion,"  calmly  replied  Mr.  Winkle, 
senior.     *'  Once  again,  gentlemen,  I  wish  you  a  good  night." 

Mr.  Pickwick  walked  with  angry  strides  into  the  street.  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer,  completely  quelled  by  the  decision  of  the  old  gentleman's 
manner,  took  the  same  course ;  Mr.  Ben  Allen's  hat  rolled  down  the 
steps  immediately  afterwards,  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen's  body  followed  it 
directly.  The  whole  party  went  silent  and  supperless  to  bed ;  and  Mr. 
Pickwick  thought,  just  before  he  fell  asleep,  that  if  he  had  known  Mr. 
Winkle,  senior,  had  been  quite  so  much  of  a  man  of  business,  it  was 
extremely  probable  he  might  never  have  waited  upon  him,  on  such  an 
errand. 


CHAPTER  L. 

IN  WHICH  MR.  PICKWICK  ENCOUNTERS  AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE, 
TO  WHICH  FORTUNATE  CIKCUMSTANCE  THE  READER  IS  MAINLY 
INDEBTED  FOR  MATTER  OF  THRILLING  INTEREST  HEREIN  SET 
DOWN,  CONCERNING  TWO  GREAT  PUBLIC  MEN  OF  MIGHT  AND 
POWER. 


The  morning  which  broke  upon  Mr.  Pickwick's  sight  at  eight 
o'clock  was  not  at  all  calculated  to  elevate  his  spirits,  or  to  lessen  the 
depression  which  the  unlooked-for  result  of  his  embassy  inspired.  The 
sky  was  dark  and  gloomy,  the  air  damp  and  raw,  the  streets  wet  and 
sloppy.  The  smoke  hung  sluggishly  above  the  chimney-tops  as  if  it 
lacked  the  courage  to  rise,  and  the  rain  came  slowly  and  doggedly  down 
as  if  it  had  not  even  the  spirit  to  pour.  A  game-cock  in  the  stable-^ 
yard,  deprived  of  every  spark  of  his  accustomed  animation,  balanced 
himself  dismally  on  one  leg  in  a  corner :  and  a  donkey,  moping  with 
drooping  head  under  the  narrow  roof  of  an  outhouse,  appeared  from  his 
meditative  and  miserable  countenance  to  be  contemplating  suicide.  In 
the  street,  umbrellas  were  the  only  things  to  be  seen,  and  the  clicking 
of  pattens  and  splashing  of  rain-drops,  the  only  sounds  to  be  heard. 

The  breakfast  was  interrupted  by  very  little  conversation  ;  even  Mr. 
Bob  Sawyer  felt  the  influence  of  the  weather,  and  the  previous  day's 
excitement.  In  his  own  most  expressive  language,  he  was  "  floored/' 
So  was  Mr.  Ben  Allen.     So  was  Mr.  Pickwick. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  543 

In  protracted  expectation  of  the  weather  clearing  up,  the  last 
evening  paper  from  London  was  read  and  re-read  with  an  intensity  of 
interest  only  known  in  cases  of  extreme  destitution  ;  every  inch  of  the 
carpet  was  walked  over  with  similar  perseverance,  the  windows  were 
looked  out  of  often  enough  to  justify  the  imposition  of  an  additional 
duty  upon  them,  all  kinds  of  topics  of  conversation  M'ere  started,  and 
failed ;  and  at  length  Mr.  Pickwick  when  noon  had  arrived  without  a 
change  for  the  better,  rang  the  bell  resolutely  and  ordered  out  the 
chaise. 

Although  the  roads  were  miry,  and  the  drizzling  rain  came  down 
harder  than  it  had  done  yet,  and  although  the  mud  and  wet  splashed  in 
at  the  open  windows  of  the  carriage  to  such  an  extent  that  the  discom- 
fort was  almost  as  great  to  the  pair  of  insides  as  to  the  pair  of  outsides, 
still  there  was  something  in  the  very  motion,  and  the  sense  of  being  up 
and  doing,  which  was  so  infinitelv  superior  to  being  pent  in  a  dull 
room,  looking  at  the  dull  rain  dripping  into  a  dull  street,  that  they  all 
agreed,  on  starting,  that  the  change  was  a  great  improvement,  and 
wondered  how  they  could  possibly  have  delayed  making  it  as  long  as 
they  had  done. 

When  they  stopped  to  change  at  Coventry,  the  steam  ascended  from 
the  horses  in  such  clouds  as  wholly  to  obscure  the  hostler,  whose  voice 
was  however  heard  to  declare  from  the  mist,  that  he  expected  the  first 
Gold  Medal  from  the  Humane  Society  on  their  next  distribution  of 
rewards,  for  taking  the  postboy's  hat  off;  the  water  descending  from 
the  brim  of  which,  the  invisible  gentleman  declared  must  inevitably 
have  drowned  him  (the  postboy),  but  for  his  great  presence  of  mind  in 
tearing  it  promptly  from  his  head,  and  drying  the  gasping  man's 
countenance  with  a  wisp  of  straw. 

"This  is  pleasant," said  Bob  Sawyer,  turning  up  his  coat  collar,  and 
pulling  the  shawl  over  his  mouth  to  concentrate  the  fumes  of  a  glass  of 
brandy  just  swallowed. 

"  Wery,"  replied  Sam,  composedly, 

*'  You  don't  seem  to  mind  it,"  observed  Bob. 

**  Vy,  I  don't  exactly  see  no  good  my  mindin'  on  it  'ud  do.  Sir," 
replied  Sam. 

"  That's  an  unanswerable  reason,  anyhow,"  said  Bob. 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.  "  Wotever  is,  is  right,  as  the 
young  nobleman  sveetly  remarked  ven  they  put  him  down  in  the 
pension  list  'cos  his  mother's  uncle's  vife's  grandfather  vunce  lit  the 
king's  pipe  vith  a  portable  tinder  box." 

*'  Not  a  bad  notion  that,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  approvingly. 

"Just  wot  the  young  nobleman  said  ev'ry quarter-day arterwards  for 
the  rest  of  his  life,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Wos  you  ever  called  in,"  enquired  Sam,  glancing  at  the  driver, 
after  a  short  silence,  and  lowering  his  voice  to  a  mysterious  whisper, 
"  wos  you  ever  called  in,  ven  you  wos  'prentice  to  a  sawbones,  ti)  wisit 
a  postboy  }  " 

*'  I  don't  remember  that  I  ever  was,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  You  never  see  a  postboy  in  that  'ere  hospital  as  you  walked  (as 
they  says  o'  the  ghosts),  did  you?"  demanded  Sam. 


544  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

*'  No,"  replied  Bob  Sawyer.     "  I  don't  think  I  ever  did." 

"  Never  knovv'd  a  churchyard  vere  there  wos  a  postboy's  tombstone, 
or  see  a  dead  postboy,  did  you  ? "  enquired  Sam^  pursuing  his  cate- 
chism. 

*'  No,"  rejoined  Bob,  "  I  never  did." 

"No,"  rejoined  Sam,  triumphantly.  "  Nor  never  vill ;  and  there's 
another  thing  that  no  man  never  see,  and  that's  a  dead  donkey — no  man 
never  see  a  dead  donkey,  'cept  the  gen'Pm'n  in  the  black  silk  smalls  as 
know'd  the  young  'ooman  as  kept  a  goat;  and  that  wos  a  French 
donkey,  so  wery  likely  he  warn't  vun  o'  the  reg'lar  breed." 

*'  Well,  what  has  that  got  to  do  with  the  postboys?"  asked  Bob 
Sawyer. 

''  This  here,"  replied  Sam.  "  Vithout  goin'  so  far  as  to  as-sert,  as 
some  wery  sensible  people  do,  that  postboys  and  donkeys  is  both  im- 
mortal, wot  I  say  is  this ;  that  venever  they  feels  theirselves  gettin 
stiff  and  past  their  work,  they  just  rides  off  together,  vun  postboy  to  a 
pair,  in  the  usual  vay ;  wot  becomes  on  'em  nobody  knows,  but  it's 
wery  probable  as  they  starts  avay  to  take  their  pleasure  in  some  other 
vorld,  for  there  ain't  a  man  alive  as  ever  see  either  a  donkey  or  a 
postboy  a  takin'  his  pleasure  in  this  ! " 

Expatiating  upon  this  learned  and  remarkable  theory,  and  citing 
many  curious  statistical  and  other  facts  in  its  support,  Sam  Weller 
beguiled  the  time  until  they  reached  Dunchurch,  where  a  dry  post-boy 
and  fresh  horses  were  procured ;  the  next  stage  was  Daventry,  and  the 
next  Towcester ;  and  at  the  end  of  each  stage  it  rained  harder  than  it 
had  done  at  the  beginning. 

"  I  say,"  remonstrated  Bob  Sawyer,  looking  in  at  the  coach  window, 
as  they  pulled  up  before  the  door  of  the  Saracen's  Head,  Towcester, 
'*  this  won't  do  you  know." 

*'  Bless  me  ! "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  just  awakening  from  a  nap,  "  I'm 
afraid  you  are  wet." 

*^  Oh  you  are,  are  you  ?  "  returned  Bob.  "  Yes,  I  am,  a  little  tliat 
way — uncomfortably  damp,  perhaps." 

Bob  did  look  dampish,  inasmuch  as  the  rain  was  streaming  from  his 
neck,  elbows,  cuffs,  skirts,  and  knees ;  and  his  whole  apparel  shone  so 
with  the  wet,  that  it  might  have  been  mistaken  for  a  full  suit  of  pre- 
pared oilskin. 

"  I  am  rather  wet,"  said  Bob,  giving  himself  a  shake,  and  casting 
a  little  hydraulic  shower  around  in  so  doing,  like  a  Newfoundland  dog 
just  emerged  from  the  water. 

"  I  think  it's  quite  impossible  to  go  on  to-night,"  interposed  Ben. 

*'  Out  of  the  question,  Sir,"  remarked  Sam  Weller,  coming  to  assist 
in  the  conference ;  "it's  cruelty  to  animals.  Sir,  to  ask 'em  to  do  it. 
There's  beds  here,  Sir,"  said  Sam,  addressing  his  master,  ''everything 
clean  and  comfortable.  Wery  good  little  dinner.  Sir,  they  can  get 
ready  in  half  an  hour — pair  of  fowls.  Sir,  and  a  weal  cutlet ;  French 
beans,  'taturs,  tart,  and  tidiness.  You'd  better  stop  vere  you  are,  Sir, 
if  I  might  recommend.  Take  adwice.  Sir,  as  the  doctor  said." 
i  The  host  of  the  Saracen's  Head  opportunely  appeared  at  this  moment, 
to  confirm  Mr.  Weller's  statement  relative  to  the  accommodations  of 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  545 

the  establishment,  and  to  back  his  entreaties  with  a  variety  of  dismal 
conjectures  regarding  the  state  of  the  roads,  the  doubt  of  fresh  horses 
being  to  be  had  at  the  next  stage,  the  dead  certainty  of  its  raining  all 
night,  the  equally  mortal  certainty  of  its  clearing  up  in  the  morning, 
and  other  topics  of  inducement  familiar  to  innkeepers. 

"Well,"  said  I\Ir.  Pickwick,  '^but  I  must  send  a  letter  to  London 
by  some  conveyance,  so  that  it  may  be  delivered  the  very  first  thing  in 
the  morning,  or  I  must  go  forward  at  all  hazards." 

The  landlord  smiled  his  delight.  Nothing  could  be  easier  than  for 
the  gentleman  to  inclose  a  letter  in  a  sheet  of  brown  paper  and  send 
it  on  either  by  the  mail  or  the  night  coach  from  Birmingham.  If  the 
gentleman  was  particularly  anxious  to  have  it  left  as  soon  as  possible, 
he  might  write  outside,  **  To  be  delivered  immediately,"  which  was 
sure  to  be  attended  to ;  or  ''  pay  the  bearer  half-a-crown  extra  for  in- 
stant delivery,"  which  was  surer  still. 

"  V^ery  well,"  said  Mr,  Pickwick,  *^then  we  will  stop  here." 

"  Lights  in  the  Sun,  John  ;  make  up  the  fire — the  gentlemen  are 
wet,"  cried  the  landlord.  "This  way,  gentlemen;  don't  trouble 
yourself  about  the  postboy  now,  Sir;  Pll  send  him  to  you  when  you 
ring  for  him,  Sir.     Now  John,  the  candles.'' 

The  candles  were  brought,  the  fire  was  stirred  up,  and  a  fresh  log  of 
wood  thrown  on.  In  ten  minutes'  time  a  waiter  was  laying  the  cloth 
for  dinner,  the  curtains  were  drawn,  the  fire  was  blazing  brightly,  and 
every  thing  looked  (as  every  thing  always  does  in  all  decent  English 
inns)  as  if  the  travellers  had  been  expected  and  their  comforts  prepared, 
for  days  beforehand. 

Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  at  a  side  table  and  hastily  indited  a  note  to 
Mr.  Winkle,  merely  informing  him  that  he  was  detained  by  stress  of 
weather,  but  would  certainly  be  in  London  next  day ;  until  when  he 
deferred  any  further  account  of  his  proceedings.  This  note  was  hastily 
made  up  into  a  parcel  and  despatched  to  the  bar  per  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller. 

Sam  left  it  with  the  landlady,  and  was  returning  to  pull  his  master's 
boots  otF,  after  drying  himself  by  the  kitchen  fire,  when,  glancing 
casually  through  a  half-opened  door,  he  was  arrested  by  the  sight  of 
a  gentleman  with  a  sandy  head  who  had  a  large  bundle  of  newspapers 
lying  on  the  table  before  him,  and  was  perusing  the  leading  article  of 
one  with  a  settled  sneer  which  curled  up  his  nose  and  all  his  other  fea- 
tures into  a  majestic  expression  of  haughty  contempt. 

^'  Hallo  !''  said  Sam,  '*  I  ought  to  know  that  'ere  head  and  them  fea- 
turs ;  .the  eye-glass,  too,  and  the  broad-brimmed  tile  !  Eatansvill  to 
vit,  or  I'm  a  Roman." 

Sam  was  taken  with  a  troublesome  cough  at  once,  for  the  purpose 
of  attracting  the  gentleman's  attention  :  and  the  gentleman  starting  at 
the  sound,  raised  his  head  and  his  eye-glass,  and  disclosed  to  view  the 
profound  and  thoughtful  features  of  Mr.  Pott,  of  the  Eatanswill 
Gazette. 

"  Beggin'  your  pardon,  Sir,"  said  Sam,  advancing  with  a  bow,  ^^  my 
master's  here,  Mr.  Pott." 


546  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"Hush,  hush  !*'  cried  Pott,  drawing  Sam  into  the  room,  and  closing 
the  door,  with  a  countenance  of  mysterious  dread  and  apprehension. 

"  Wot's  the  matter,  Sir?"  enquired  Sam,  looking  vacantly  about  him. 

*'  Not  a  whisper  of  my  name,"  replied  Pott — "  this  is  a  buff  neigh- 
bourhood. If  the  excited  and  irritable  populace  knew  I  was  here,  1 
should  be  torn  to  pieces." 

"  No;  vould  you,  Sir?"  enquired  Sam. 

"  I  should  be  the  victim  of  their  fury,"  replied  Pott.  "Now,  young 
man,  what  of  your  master  r " 

**  He's  a  stoppin'  here  to-night  on  his  vay  to  town,  vith  a  couple  of 
friends,''  replied  Sam. 

"  Is  Mr.  Winkle  one  of  them  ?  "  enquired  Pott,  with  a  slight  frown. 

"  No,  Sir ;  Mr.  Vinkle  stops  at  home  now,*'  rejoined  Sam.  "  He's 
married." 

*' Married!"  exclaimed  Pott,  with  frightful  vehemence.  He  stop- 
ped, smiled  darkly,  and  added,  in  a  low,  vindictive  tone,  "  It  serves 
him  right !'' 

Having  given  vent  to  this  cruel  ebullition  of  deadly  malice  and  cold- 
blooded triumph  over  a  fallen  enemy,  Mr.  Pott  enquired  whether  Mr. 
Pickwick's  friends  were  "  blue  ;"  receiving  a  most  satisfactory  answer 
jn  the  affirmative  from  Sam,  who  knew  as  much  about  the  matter  as 
Pott  himself,  he  consented  to  accompany  him  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  room, 
where  a  hearty  welcome  awaited  him,  and  an  agreement  to  club  their 
dinners  together  was  at  once  made  and  ratified. 

*' And  how  are  matters  going  on  in  Eatanswill?"  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, when  Pott  had  taken  a  seat  near  the  fire,  and  the  whole  party 
had  got  their  wet  boots  off,  and  dry  slippers  on.  *^  Is  the  Independent 
still  in  being?" 

"The  Independent,  Sir,"  replied  Pott,  "is  still  dragging  on  a 
wretched  and  lingering  career,  abhorred  and  despised  by  even  the  few 
who  are  cognizant  of  its  miserable  and  disgraceful  existence ;  stified 
by  the  very  filth  it  so  profusely  scatters :  rendered  deaf  and  blind  by 
the  exhalations  of  its  own  slime,  the  obscene  journal,  happily  uncon- 
scious of  its  degraded  state,  is  rapidly  sinking  beneath  that  treacherous 
mud  which,  while  it  seems  to  give  it  a  firm  standing  with  the  low  and 
debased  classes  of  society,  is,  nevertheless,  rising  above  its  detested 
head,  and  will  speedily  engulf  it  for  ever." 

Having  delivered  this  manifesto  (which  formed  a  portion  of  his  last 
week's  leader)  with  vehement  articulation,  the  editor  paused  to  take 
breath,  and  looked  majestically  at  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  You  are  a  young  man,  Sir,"  said  Pott. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  nodded. 

"  So  are  you.  Sir,"  said  Pott,  addressing  Mr.  Ben  Allen. 
Ben  admitted  the  soft  impeachment. 

"  And  are  both  deeply  imbued  with  those  blue  principles,  which 
so  long  as  I  live,  I  have  pledged  myself  to  the  people  of  these  kingdoms 
to  suppyrt  and  to  maintain  ?  "  suggested  Pott. 

"  Why,  I  don't  exactly  know  about  that,"  replied  Bob  Sawver, 
"  I  am-1 " 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  547 

"  Not  buff,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  interrupted  Pott,  drawing  back  his 
chair,  "your  friend  is  not  buff.  Sir?" 

*'  No,  no,"  rejoined  Bob,  **  I'm  a  kind  of  plaid  at  present ;  a  com- 
pound of  all  sorts  of  colours." 

"  A  waverer,"  said  Pott  solemnly,  "  a  waverer.  I  should  like  to 
show  you  a  series  of  eight  articles,  Sir,  that  have  appeared  in  the 
Eatanswill  Gazette.  I  think  I  may  venture  to  say  that  you  would 
not  be  long  in  establishing  your  opinions  on  a  firm  and  solid 
basis,  Sir." 

"  I  dare  say  I  should  turn  very  blue,  long  before  I  got  to  the  end  of 
them,"  responded  Bob. 

Mr.  Pott  looked  dubiously  at  Bob  Sawyer  for  some  seconds,  and, 
turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  said — 

**  You  have  seen  the  literary  articles  which  have  appeared  at 
intervals  in  the  Eatanswill  Gazette  in  the  course  of  the  last  three 
months,  and  which  have  excited  such  general — I  may  say  such 
universal  attention  and  admiration  ?  " 

"Why,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  slightly  embarrassed  by  the  question, 
"  the  fact  is,  I  have  been  so  much  engaged  in  other  ways,  that  I  really 
have  not  had  an  opportunity  of  perusing  them." 

"  You  should  do  so,  Sir,"  said  Pott,  with  a  severe  countenance. 

'•'  I  will,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  They  appeared  in  the  form  of  a  copious  review  of  a  work  on 
Chinese  metaphysics,  Sir,"  said  Pott. 

"  Oh,"  observed  Mr.  Pickwick — "  from  your  pen  I  hope  .'*  " 

^'  From  the  pen  of  my  critic.  Sir,"  rejoined  Pott  with  dignity. 

"  An  abstruse  subject  I  should  conceive,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
•    *^Very,  Sir,"  responded  Pott,  looking  intensely  sage.     "He crammed 
for  it,  to  use  a  technical  but  expressive  term  ;  he  read  up  for  the 
subject,  at  my  desire,  in  the  JSnci/clopadia  Britannica" 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "I  was  not  aware  that  that  valuable 
work  contained  any  information  respecting  Chinese  metaphysics." 

"  He  read.  Sir,"  rejoined  Pott,  laying  his  hand  on  Mr.  Pickwick's 
knee,  and  looking  round  with  a  smile  of  intellectual  superiority,  "  he 
read  for  metaphysics  under  the  letter  M,  and  for  China  under  the 
letter  C  ;  and  combined  his  information.  Sir  !  " 

Mr.  Pott's  features  assumed  so  much  additional  grandeur  at  the 
recollection  of  the  power  and  research  displayed  in  the  learned  effusions 
in  question,  that  some  minu*:es  elapsed  before  Mr.  Pickwick  felt 
emboldened  to  renew  the  conversation ;  at  length,  as  the  Editor's 
countenance  gradually  relapsed  into  its  customary  expression  of  moral 
supremacy,  he  ventured  to  resume  the  discourse  by  asking — 

"Is  it  fair  to  enquire  what  great  object  has  brought  you  so  far 
from  home  }  " 

"  That  object  which  actuates  and  animates  me  in  all  my  gigantic 
labours.  Sir,''  replied  Pott,  with  a  calm  smile — *'  my  country's  good." 

"^  I  supposed  it  was  some  public  mission,"  observed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Yes,  Sir,"  resumed  Pott,  "it  is."  Here,  bending  towards  Mr. 
Pickwick,,  he  whispered  in  a  deep  hollow  voice,  *'  A  buff  ball,  Sir, 
will  take  place  in  Birmingham  to-morrow  evening." 

<i  Q 


548  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

*'  God  bless  me !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Yes,  Sir,  and  supper,"  added  Pott. 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Pott  nodded  portentously. 

Now,  although  Mr.  Pickwick  feigned  to  stand  aghast  at  this  dis- 
closure, he  was  so  little  versed  in  local  politics  that  he  was  unable  to 
form  an  adequate  comprehension  of  the  importance  of  the  dire  con- 
spiracy it  referred  to ;  observing  which,  Mr.  Pott,  drawing  forth  the 
last  number  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  and  referring  to  the  same, 
delivered  himself  of  the  following  paragraph  : — 

^'  HoLE-AND-CoRNER    BuFFERY. 

"  A   reptile  contemporary  has  recently  sweltered  forth  his  black 
venom  in  the  vain  and  hopeless  attempt  of  sullying  the  fair  name  of 
our  distinguished  and  excellent  representative,    the   Honourable  Mr. 
Slumkey — that  Slumkey  whom  we,  long  before  he  gained  his  present 
noble  and  exalted  position,  predicted  would  one  day  be,  as  he  now  is, 
at  once  his  country's  brightest  honour,  and  her  proudest  boast:  alike 
her  bold  defender  and  her  honest  pride — our  reptile  contemporary, 
we  say,  has  made  himself  merry  at  the  expense  of  a  superbly  embossed 
plated  coal-scuttle,  which  has  been  presented  to  that  glorious  man  by 
his  enraptured  constituents,  and  towards  the  purchase  of  which,  the 
nameless  wretch  insinuates,  the  Honourable  IMr.  Slumkey  himself  con- 
tributed, through  a  confidential  friend  of  his  butler's,  more  than  three- 
fourths   of  the  whole   sum   subscribed.     Why,  does  not  the  crawling 
creature  see  that  even  if  this  be  the  fact,  the  Honourable  Mr.  Slumkey 
only  appears  in  a  still  more  amiable  and  radiant  light  than  before, 
if  that  be  possible  ?  does  not  even  his  obtuseness  perceive  that  this 
amiable  and  touching  desire  to  carry  out  the  wishes  of  the  constituent 
body  must  for  ever  endear  him  to  the  hearts  and  souls  of  such  of  his 
fellow  townsmen  as  are  not  worse  than  swine ;  or,  in  other  words, 
who  are  not  as  debased  as  our  contemporary  himself.'^     But   such  is 
the  wretched  trickery  of  hole-and-corner  Buffery  !     These  are  not  its 
only  artifices.     Treason  is  abroad.     We  boldly  state,  now  that  we  are 
goaded  to  the  disclosure,  and  we  throw  ourselves  on  the  country  and  its 
constables  for  protection  : — we  boldly  state  that  secret  preparations  are 
at  this  moment  in  progress  for  a  Buff  ball,  which  is  to  be  held  in  a  Buff 
town,  in  the  very  heart  and  centre  of  a  BufF  population ;  which  is  to 
be  conducted  by  a  Buff  master  of  the  ceremonies ;  which  is  to  be 
attended  by  four  ultra  Buff  members  of  parliament,  and  the  admission 
to  which  is  to  be  by  Buff  tickets !     Does  our  fiendish  contemporary 
wince  ?     Let  him  writhe  in  impotent  malice  as  we  pen  the  wordsj 
We  will  be  there." 

"  There,  Sir,"  said  Pott,  folding  up  the  paper  quite  exhausted, 
*'  that  is  the  state  of  the  case." 

The  landlord  and  waiter  entering  at  the  moment  with  dinner, 
caused  Mr.  Pott  to  lay  his  finger  on  his  lips  in  token  that  he  considered 
his  life  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  hands,  and  depended  on  liis  secrecy.  Messrs. 
Bob  Sawyer  and  Benjamin  Allen,  who  had  irreverently  fallen  asleep 
during  the  reading  of  the  quotation  from  the  Eatanswill  Gazette  and 


I 


\ 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  549 

the  discussion  which  followed  it,  were  roused  by  the  mere  whispering 
of  the  talismanic  word  *'  Dinner  "  in  their  ears  ;  and  to  dinner  they 
went  with  good  digestion  waiting  on  appetite,  and  health  on  both,  and 
a  waiter  upon  all  three. 

In  the  course  of  the  dinner  and  the  sitting  which  succeeded  it,  I\Ir. 
Pott  descending  for  a  few  moments  to  domestic  topics,  informed  Mr. 
Pickwick  that  the  air  of  Eatanswill  not  agreeing  with  his  lady,  she 
was  then  engaged  in  making  a  tour  of  different  fashionable  watering 
places  with  a  view  to  the  recovery  of  her  wonted  health  and  spirits ; 
this  was  a  delicate  veiling  of  the  fact  that  INIrs.  Pott,  acting  upon  her 
often  repeated  threat  of  separation,  had,  in  virtue  of  an  arrangement 
negociated  by  her  brother,  the  Lieutenant,  and  concluded  by  Mr.  Pott, 
permanently  retired  with  the  faithful  body-guard  upon  one  moiety  or 
half-part  of  the  annual  income  and  profits  arising  from  the  editorship 
and  sale  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette- 
While  the  great  Mr.  Pott  was  dwelling  upon  this  and  other  matters, 
enlivening  the  conversation  from  time  to  time  with  various  extracts 
from  his  own  lucubrations,  a  stern  stranger,  calling  from  the  window 
of  a  stage-coach,  outward  bound,  which  halted  at  the  inn  to  deliver 
packages,  requested  to  know  whether  if  he  stopped  short  on  his  journey 
and  remained  there  for  the  night  he  could  be  furnished  with  the  neces- 
sary accommodation  of  a  ])ed  and  bedstead. 

"  Certainly,  Sir,"  replied  the  landlord. 

"  I  can,  can  I  ?"  enquired  the  stranger,  who  seemed  habitually  sus- 
picious in  look  and  manner. 

"  No  doubt  of  it,  Sir,'"  replied  the  landlord. 

*'  Good,"  said  the  stranger.  *'  Coachman,  I  get  down  here.  Guard, 
my  carpet-bag.'' 

Bidding  the  other  passengers  good  night  in  a  rather  snappish  manner, 
the  stranger  alighted.  He  was  a  shortish  gentleman,  with  very  stiff 
black  hair,  cut  in  the  porcupine  or  blacking-brush  style,  and 
standing  stiff  and  straight  all  over  his  head ;  his  aspect  was  pompous 
and  threatening;  his  manner  was  peremptory;  his  eyes  sharp  and 
restless  ;  and  his  whole  bearing  bespoke  a  feeling  of  great  confidence  in 
himself,  and  a  consciousness  of  immeasurable  superiority  over  all  other 
people. 

This  gentleman  was  shown  into  the  room  originally  assigned  to  the 
patriotic  Mr.  Pott ;  and  the  waiter  remarked,  in  dumb  astonishment  at 
the  singular  coincidence,  that  he  had  no  sooner  lighted  the  candles  than 
the  gentleman,  diving  into  his  hat,  drew  forth  a  newspaper,  and  began 
to  read  it  with  the  very  same  expression  of  indignant  scorn  which  upon 
the  majestic  features  of  Pott  had  paralysed  his  energies  an  hour  before. 
The  man  observed  too,  that  whereas  Mr.  Pott's  scorn  had  been  roused 
by  a  newspaper  headed  The  Eatanswill  Independent,  this  gentleman's 
withering  contempt  was  awakened  by  a  newspaper  entitled  The 
Eatanswill  Gazette. 

''  Send  the  landlord,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  rejoined  the  waiter. 

The  landlord  was  sent,  and  came. 

"  Are  you  the  landlord?"  enquired  the  gentleman. 

*'  I  am.  Sir,"  replied  the  landlord. 

QQ2 


550  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Do  you  know  me  ?  "  demanded  the  gentleman. 

''  I  have  not  that  pleasure.  Sir,"  rejoined  the^landlord. 

*'  My  name  is  Slurk/'  said  the  gentleman. 

The  landlord  slightly  inclined  his  head. 

"  Slurk,  Sir,"  repeated  the  gentleman,  haughtily.  "  Do  you  know 
me  now,  man  ? " 

The  landlord  scratched  his  head,  looked  at  the  ceiling,  and  at  the 
stranger,  and  smiled  feebly. 

"  Do  you  know  me,  man  ?  "  enquired  the  stranger,  angrily. 

The  landlord  made  a  strong  effort,  and  at  length  replied,  "  Well, 
Sir,  I  do  not  know  you.'' 

"^  Good  God!"  said  the  stranger,  dashing  his  clenched  fist  upon  the 
table.     "  And  this  is  popularity  ! " 

The  landlord  took  a  step  or  two  towards  the  door,  and  the  stranger 
fixing  his  eyes  upon  him,  resumed. 

"  This,"  said  the  stranger,  "  this  is  gratitude  for  years  of  labour  and 
study  in  behalf  of  the  masses.  I  alight  wet  and  weary ;  no  enthusiastic 
crowds  press  forward  to  greet  their  champion,  the  church -bells  are 
silent ;  the  very  name  elicits  no  responsive  feeling  in  their  torpid 
bosoms.  It  is  enough,''  said  the  agitated  Mr.  Slurk,  pacing  to  and  fro, 
"  to  curdle  the  ink  in  one's  pen,  and  induce  one  to  abandon  their 
cause  for  ever." 

"  Did  you  say  brandy  and  water,  Sir  ? ''  said  the  landlord,  venturing 
a  hint. 

*'Rum,"  said  Mr.  Slurk,  turning  fiercely  upon  him.  *■  Have  you 
got  a  fire  anywhere  r" 

*'  We  can  light  one  directly,  Sir,"  said  the  landlord. 

"  Which  will  throw  out  no  heat  till  it  is  bed  time,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Slurk.     "  Is  there  anybody  in  the  kitchen  ?  " 

Not  a  soul.  There  was  a  beautiful  fire.  Everybody  had  gone,  and 
the  door  was  closed  for  the  nischt. 

*^  I  will  drink  my  rum.  and  water,"  said  Mr.  Slurk,  "  by  the  kitchen 
fire."  So,  gathering  up  his  hat  and  newspaper,  he  stalked  solemnly 
behind  the  landlord  to  that  humble  apartment,  and  throwing  himself 
on  a  settle  by  the  fireside,  resumed  his  countenance  of  scorn,  and  began 
to  read  and  drink  in  silent  dignity. 

Now  some  demon  of  discord,  flying  over  the  Saracen's  Head  at  that 
moment,  on  casting  down  his  eyes  in  mere  idle  curiosity,  happened  to 
behold  Slurk  established  comfortably  by  the  kitchen  fire,  and  Pott 
slightly  elevated  with  ^vine  in  another  room  ;  upon  which  the  malicious 
demon  darting  down  into  the  last-mentioned  apartment  with  inconceivable 
rapidity,  passed  at  once  into  the  head  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  and  prompted 
him  for  his  (the  demon's)  own  evil  purposes  to  speak  as  follows. 

*'  I  say,  weVc  let  the  tire  out.  It's  uncommonly  cold  after  the  rain, 
isn't  it  ?  " 

"  It  really  is,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  shivering. 

"  It  wouldn't  be  a  bad  notion  to  have  a  cigar  by  the  kitchen  fire, 
would  it?"  said  Bob  Saw)^er,  still  prompted  by  the  demon  aforesaid. 

"  It  would  be  particularly  comfortable,  /  think,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick.     "  Mr.  Pott,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

Mr.  Pott  yielded  a  ready  assent ;  and  ail  four  travellers^  each  with  his 


r. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  •  551 

glass  in  his  hand,  at  once  betook  themselves  to  the  kitchen,  with  Sam 
Weller  heading  the  procession  to  shew  them  the  way. 

The  stranger  was  still  reading ;  he  looked  up  and  started.  Mr.  Pott 
started. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  whispered  Mr.  Pickwick. 

''  That  reptile  !"  replied  Pott. 

"  What  reptile  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  about  him  for  fear  he 
should  tread  on  some  overgrown  black  beetle,  or  dropsical  spider. 

"  That  reptile,"  whispered  Pott,  catching  Mr.  Pickwick  by  the  arm, 
and  pointing  towards  the  stranger.  *'  That  reptile — Slurk,  of  the 
Independent ! " 

''  Perhaps  we  had  better  retire,"  whispered  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Never,  Sir,"  rejoined  Pott, — pot-valiant  in  a  double  sense — 
*^  never."  With  these  words,  Mr.  Pott  took  up  his  position  on  an 
opposite  settle,  and  selecting  one  from  a  little  bundle  of  newspapers, 
began  to  read  against  his  enemy. 

Mr.  Pott,  of  course,  read  the  Independent,  and  Mr.  Slurk,  of  course, 
read  the  Gazette  ;  and  each  gentleman  audibly  expressed  his  contempt 
of  the  other's  compositions  by  bitter  laughs  and  sarcastic  sniffs ;  whence 
they  proceeded  to  more  open  expressions  of  opinion,  such  as  "  absurd," 
— "'  wretched," — "  atrocity,"  —  "  humbug,"  —  ''  knavery,"  —  "  dirt," — 
"  filth,'' — "  slime,"' — ''  ditch  water,"  and  other  critical  remarks  of  the 
like  nature. 

Both  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  had  beheld  these  symp- 
toms of  rivalry  and  hatred  with  a  degree  of  delight,  which  imparted 
great  additional  relish  to  the  cigars  at  which  they  were  puffing  most 
vigorously.  The  moment  they  began  to  flag,  the  mischievous  Mr.  Bob 
Sawyer,  addressing  Slurk  with  great  politeness,  said — 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  look  at  your  paper.  Sir,  when  you  have  quite 
done  with  it  ?  " 

"You'll  find  very  little  to  repay  you  for  your  trouble  in  this  con- 
temptible thing,  Sir,"  replied  Slurk,  bestowing  a  Satanic  frown  on  Pott. 

'*  You  shall  have  this  presently,"  said  Pott,  looking  up,  pale  with 
rage,  and  quivering  in  his  speech  from  the  same  cause.  ^'Ha!  ha! 
you  will  be  amused  with  this  fellow's  audacity." 

Terrific  emphasis  was  laid  upon  "thing"  and  "fellow;"  and  the 
faces  of  both  editors  began  to  glow  with  defiance. 

"  The  ribaldry  of  this  miserable  man  is  despicably  disgusting,"  said 
Pott,  pretending  to  address  Bob  Sawyer,  and  scowling  upon  Slurk. 

Here  Mr.  Slurk  laughed  very  heartily,  and  folding  the  paper  so  as 
to  get  at  a  fresh  column  conveniently,  said,  that  the  blockhead  really 
amused  him. 

*'  What  an  impudent  blunderer  this  fellow  is,"  said  Pott,  turning 
from  pink  to  crimson. 

'^  Did  you  ever  read  any  of  this  man's  foolery,  Sir  ?  "  enquired  Slurk, 
of  Bob  Sawyer. 

"  Never,"  replied  Bob  ;  "  is  it  very  bad  .?" 

"  Oh,  shocking  !  shocking  !"  rejoined  Slurk. 

"  Really,  dear  me,  this  is  too  atrocious !"  exclaimed  Pott^  at  this 
juncture;   still  feigning  to  be  absorbed  in  his  reading. 

"  If  you  can  wade  through  a  few  sentences  of  malice,  meanness. 


652  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

falsehood,  perjury,  treachery,  and  cant,"  said  Slurk,  handing  the  paper 
to  Bob,  "  you  will,  perhaps,  be  somewhat  repaid  by  a  laugh  at  the  style 
of  this  ungrammatical  twaddler." 

'*  What's  that  you  said.  Sir?"  inquired  Pott,  looking  up,  trembling 
all  over  with  passion. 

''  What's  that  to  you,  Sir  ?  "  replied  Slurk. 

"  Ungrammatical  twaddler,  was  it,  Sir  ?"  said  Pott. 

"  Yes,  Sir,  it  was,"  replied  Slurk;  '''and  blue  bore,  Sir,  if  you  like 
that  better;  ha!  ha!'' 

Mr.  Pott  retorted  not  a  word  to  this  jocose  insult,  but  deliberately 
folding  up  his  copy  of  the  Independent,  flattened  it  carefully  down, 
crushed  it  beneath  his  boot,  spat  upon^  it  with  great  ceremony,  and 
flung  it  into  the  fire. 

"  There,  Sir,"  said  Pott,  retreating  from  the  stove,  "  and  that's  the 
way  I  would  serve  the  viper  who  produces  it,  if  I  were  not,  fortunately 
for  him,  restrained  by  the  laws  of  my  country." 

*'  Serve  him  so.  Sir  !"  cried  Slurk,  starting  up  :  "  those  laws  shnll 
never  be  appealed  to  by  him,  Sir,  in  such  a  case.     Serve  him  so.  Sir  !'* 

"  Hear  !  hear  ! ''  said  Bob  Sawyer. 

*'  Nothing  can  be  fairer,"  observed  Mr.  Ben  Allen. 

*'  Serve  him  so.  Sir  ! "  reiterated  Slurk,  in  a  loud  voice. 

Mr.  Pott  darted  a  look  of  contempt,  which  might  have  withered  an 
anchor. 

"  Serve  him  so.  Sir  !"  reiterated  Slurk,  in  a  louder  voice  than  before. 

*'  I  will  not,  Sir ;"  rejoined  Pott. 

"  Oh,  you  won't !  , won't  you.  Sir?"  said  Mr.  Slurk,  in  a  taunting 
manner  ;  "  you  hear  this,  gentlemen  !  He  won't ;  not  that  he's  afraid  ; 
oh ,  no  !  he  wonH,     Ha  !  ha  ! " 

"  I  consider  you.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  moved  by  this  sarcasm,  "  I 
consider  you  a  viper.  I  look  upon.  Sir,  you  as  a  man  who  has  placed 
himself  beyond  the  pale  of  society,  by  his  most  audacious,  disgraceful, 
and  abominable  public  conduct.  I  view  you.  Sir,  personally  or  po- 
litically, in  no  other  light  but  as  a  most  unparalleled  and  unmiti- 
gated viper.'' 

The  indignant  Independent  did  not  wait  to  hear  the  end  of  this  personal 
denunciation,  for,  catching  up  his  carpet-bag,  which  was  well  stuffed 
with  moveables,  he  swung  it  in  the  air  as  Pott  turned  away,  and  letting 
it  fall  with  a  circular  sweep  on  his  head  just  at  that  particular  angle 
of  the  bag  where  a  good  thick  hair-brush  happened  to  be  packed, 
caused  a  sharp  crash  to  be  heard  throughout  the  kitchen,  and  brought 
him  at  once  to  the  ground. 

"  Gentlemen,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  Pott  started  up  and  seized 
the  fire-shovel,  "  gentlemen,  consider  for  Heaven's  sake — help — Sam 
— here — pray,  gentlemen — interfere,  somebody." 

Uttering  these  incoherent  exclamations,  Mr.  Pickwick  rushed 
between  the  infuriated  combatants  just  in  time  to  receive  the  carpet 
bag  on  one  side  of  his  body,  and  the  fire-shovel  on  the  other  ;  whether 
the  representatives  of  the  public  feeling  of  Eatanswill  were  blinded 
by  animosity,  or,  being  both  acute  reasoners,  saw  the  advantage  of 
having  a  third  party  between  them  to  bear  all  the  blows,  certain  it  is 


1 


r 


.#       I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  553 

that  they  paid  not  the  slifjjhtcst  attention  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  but 
defying  each  other  with  great  spirit,  plied  the  carpet  bag  and  the 
fire-shovel  most  fearlessly.  INIr.  Pickwick  would  unquestionably  have 
suffered  severely  from  his  humane  interference,  if  Mr.  Weller,  attracted 
by  his  master's  cries,  had  not  rushed  in  at  the  moment  and,  snatching 
up  a  meal-sack,  effectually  stopped  the  conflict  by  drawing  it  over 
the  head  and  shoulders  of  the  mighty  Pott,  and  clasping  him  tight 
round  the  elbows. 

•'  Take  avay  that  'ere  bag  from  the  t'other  madman,"  said  Sam 
to  Ben  Allen  and  Bob  Sawyer,  who  had  done  nothing  but  dodge 
round  the  group,  each  with  a  tortoise-shell  lancet  in  his  hand,  ready 
to  bleed  the  tirst  man  stunned.  "  Give  it  up,  you  wretched  little 
creetur,  or  I'll  smother  you  in  it." 

Awed  by  these  threats,  and  quite  out  of  breath,  the  Independent 
suffered  himself  to  be  disarmed ;  and  Mr.  Weller,  removing  the 
extinguisher  from  Pott,  set  him  free  with  a  caution. 

*'  You  take  yourselves  off  to  bed  quietly,"  said  Sam,  ''  or  I'll  put 
you  both  in  it,  and  let  you  light  it  out  vith  the  mouth  tied,  as  I  vould 
a  dozen  sich,  if  they  played  these  games.  And  you  have  the  goodness 
to  come  this  here  vay.  Sir,  if  you  please." 

Thus  addressing  his  master,  Sam  took  him  by  the  arm  and  led  him 
off,  while  the  rival  editors  were  severally  removed  to  their  beds  by  the 
landlord,  under  the  inspection  of  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  and  Mr.  Benjamin 
Allen  ;  breathing,  as  they  went  away,  many  sanguinary  threats,  and 
making  vague  appointments  for  mortal  combat  next  day.  When  they 
came  to  think  it  over,  however,  it  occurred  to  them  that  they  could 
do  it  much  better  in  print,  so  they  recommenced  deadly  hostilities 
without  delay  ;  and  all  Eatanswill  rung  with  their  boldness — on  paper. 

They  had  taken  themselves  off  in  separate  coaches,  early  next 
morning,  before  the  other  travellers  were  stirring ;  and  the  weather 
having  now  cleared  up,  the  chaise  companions  once  more  turned  their 
faces  to  London. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

INVOLVING     A     SERIOUS     CHANGE     IN     THE     WELLER    FAMILY,     AND 
THE    UNTIMELY    DOWNFALL    OF    THE    RED-NOSED    MR.    STIGGINS. 

CoNsiDDRiNG  it  a  matter  of  delicacy  to  abstain  from  introducing 
either  Bob  Sawyer  or  Ben  Allen  to  the  young  couple,  until  they  were 
fully  prepared  to  expect  them  ;  and  wishing  to  spare  Arabella's  feelings 
as  much  as  possible,  INIr.  Pickwick  proposed  that  he  and  Sara  should 
alight  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  George  and  Vulture,  and  that  the 
two  young  men  should  for  the  present  take  up  their  quarters  else- 
where; to  this  they  very  readily  agreed,  and  the  proposition  was 
accordingly  acted  upon :  Mr.  Ben  Allen  and  ^Ir.  Bob  Sawyer  betaking 
themselves  to  a  sequestered  pot-shop  on  the  remotest  confines  of  the 


554  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OP 

Borough,  behind  the  bar-door  of  which  their  names  had  in  other  days 
very  often  appeared,  at  the  head  of  long  and  complex  calculations 
worked  in  white  chalk. 

''  Dear  me,  Mr.  Waller,"  said  the  pretty  housemaid,  meeting  Sam 
at  the  door. 

"Dear  me  I  vish  it  wos,  my  dear,"  replied  Sam,  dropping  behind, 
to  let  his  master  get  out  of  hearing.  "  Wot  a  sweet  lookin'  creetur 
you  are,  Mary!" 

"  Lor,  Mr.  Weller,  what  nonsense  you  do  talk !  "  said  Mary.  "Oh  ! 
dont,  Mr.  Weller." 

"  Don't  what,  my  dear  ?  "  said  Sam. 

"  Why,  that,"  replied  the  pretty  housemaid.  "  Lor,  do  get  along 
with  you."  Thus  admonishing  him,  the  pretty  housemaid  smilingly 
pushed  Sam  against  the  wall,  declaring  that  he  had  tumbled  her  cap, 
and  put  her  hair  quite  out  of  curl. 

"  And  prevented  what  I  was  going  to  say,  besides,"  added  Mary. 
"  There's  a  letter  been  waiting  here  for  you  four  days ;  you  hadn't 
been  gone  away  half  an  hour  when  it  came ;  and  more  than  that,  it's 
got,  immediate,  on  the  outside." 

"  Vere  is  it,  my  love  ?  "  enquired  Sam. 

"  I  took  care  of  it  for  you,  or  I  dare  say  it  would  have  been  lost 
long  before  this,"  replied  Mary.  "  There,  take  it ;  it's  more  than  you 
deserve." 

With  these  words,  after  many  pretty  little  coquettish  doubts  and 
fears,  and  wishes  that  she  might  not  have  lost  it,  Mary  produced  the 
letter  from  behind  the  nicest  little  muslin  tucker  possible,  and  handed 
it  to  Sam,  who  thereupon  kissed  it  with  much  gallantry  and  devotion. 

"  My  goodness  me  !  "  said  Mary,  adjusting  the  tucker,  and  feigning 
unconsciousness,  "you  seem  to  have  grown  very  fond  of  it  all  at 
once." 

To  this  Mr.  Weller  only  replied  by  a  wink,  the  intense  meaning 
of  which  no  description  could  convey  the  faintest  idea  of;  and,  setting 
himself  down  beside  Mary  on  a  window-seat,  opened  the  letter  and 
glanced  at  the  contents. 

"  Hallo  !  "  exclaimed  Sam,  "  wot's  all  this  }  " 

"  Nothing  the  matter,  I  hope  .^"  said  Mary,  peeping  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Bless  them  eyes  o'  yourn,"  said  Sam,  looking  up. 

"  Never  mind  my  eyes ;  you  had  much  better  read  your  letter," 
said  the  pretty  housemaid,  and  as  she  said  this,  she  made  the  eyes 
twinkle  with  such  slyness  and  beauty  that  they  were  perfectly 
irresistible. 

Sam  refreshed  himself  with  a  kiss,  and  read  as  follows : — 

"  Mark  is  Gran 
"  Sy  dorJcen 

"  JVens^y. 
'  *'  My  dear  Sammle, 

"  I  am  wery  sorry  to  have  the  plessure  of  bein  a  Bear  of  ill  news 
your  Mother  in  law  cort  cold  consekens  of  imprudently  settin  too  long 
on  the  damp  grass  in  the  rain  a  hearin  of  a  shepherd  who  warnt  able  to 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB. 


555 


lejive  off  till  late  at  night  owen  to  his  havin  vound  his-self  up  vith 
brandy  and  vater  and  not  being  able  to  stop  his-self  till  he  got  a  little 
sober  which  took  a  many  hours  to  do  the  doctor  says  that  if  she'd  sval- 
lo'd  varm  brandy  and  vater  artervards  insted  of  afore  she  mightn't  have 
been  no  vus  her  veels  wos  immedetly  greased  and  everythink  done  to 
set  her  a  goin  as  could  be  inwented  your  farther  had  hopes  as  she  vould 
have  vorked  round  as  usual  but  just  as  she  wos  a  turnen  the  corner  my 
boy  she  took  the  wrong  road  and  vent  down  hill  vith  a  welocity  you 
never  see  and  notvithstandin  that  the  drag  was  put  on  drectly  by  the 
medikel  man  it  wornt  of  no  use  at  all  for  she  paid  the  last  pike  at 
tventy  minutes  afore  six  o'clock  yesterday  evenin  havin  done  the  jou- 
ney  wery  much  under  the  reglar  time  vich  praps  was  partly  owen  to 
her  haven  taken  in  wery  little  luggage  by  the  vay  your  father  says  that 
if  you  vill  come  and  see  me  Sammy  he  vill  take  it  as  a  wery  great 
favor  for  I  am  wery  lonely  Samivel  N.  B  he  vill  have  it  spelt  that 
vay  vich  I  say  ant  right  and  as  there  is  sich  a  many  things  to  settle 
he  is  sure  your  guvner  wont  object  of  course  he  vill  not  Sammy  for  I 
knows  him  better  so  he  sends  his  dooty  in  vhich  I  join  and  am  Samivel 
infernally  yours 

*'  Tony  Veller." 

"  Wot  a  incomprehensible  letter,"  said  Sam;  "^  who's  to  know  wot 
it  means  vith  all  this  he-ing  and  I-ing !  It  ain't  ray  father's  writin' 
'cept  this  here  signater  in  print  letters ;  that's  his." 

"  Perhaps  he  got  somebody  to  write  it  for  him^  and  signed  it  himself 
afterwards,"  said  the  pretty  housemaid. 

"  Stoy)  a  minit,"  replied  Sam,  running  over  the  letter  again,  and 
pausing  here  and  there  to  reflect  as  he  did  so.  "  You've  hit  it.  The 
gen'lm'n  as  wrote  it,  wos  a  tellin'  all  about  the  misfortun'  in  a  proper  ray, 
and  then  my  father  comes  a  lookin'  over  him,  and  complicates  the  whole 
concern  by  puttin'  his  oar  in.  That's  just  the  wery  sort  o'  thing  he'd 
do.     You're  right,  Mary,  my  dear." 

Having  satisfied  himself  upon  this  point,  Sam  read  the  letter  all 
over,  once  more,  and,  appearing  to  form  a  clear  notion  of  its  contents 
for  the  first  time,  ejaculated  thoughtfully,  as  he  folded  it  up  : — 

"  And  so  the  poor  creature's  dead !  I'm  sorry  for  it.  She  warn't  a 
bad-disposed  'ooman  if  them  shepherds  had  let  her  alone.  I'm  wery 
sorry  for  it." 

Mr.  VVeller  uttered  these  words  in  so  serious  a  manner,  that  the 
pretty  housemaid  cast  down  her  eyes  and  looked  very  grave. 

*' Hows'ever,"  said  Sam,  putting  the  letter  in  his  pocket,  with  a  gen- 
tle sigh,  *'  it  wos  to  be — and  wos,  as  the  old  lady  said  arter  she'd 
married  the  footman,  can't  be  helped  now,  can  it,  Mary  ?  '* 

Mary  shook  her  head,  and  sighed  too. 

"  I  must  apply  to  the  hemperor  for  leave  of  absence,"  said  Sam. 

Mary  sighed  again, — the  letter  was  so  very  affecting. 

"Goodbye!"   said  Sam. 

"  Good  bye,"  rejoined  the  pretty  housemaid,  turning  her  head  away. 

"  Well,  shake  hands,  won't  you  ?  "  said  Sam. 

The  pretty  housemaid  put  out  a  hand  which,  although  it  was  a 
housemaid's,  was  a  very  small  one,  and  rose  to  go. 


556  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS   OF 

"  I  shan't  be  wery  long  avay,"  said  Sam. 

"You're  always  away,"  said  Mary,  giving  her  head  the  slightest 
possible  toss  in  the  air.  "  You  no  sooner  come,  Mr.  Weller,  than  you 
go  again." 

Mr.  Weller  drew  the  household  beauty  closer  to  him,  and  entered 
upon  a  whispering  conversation,  which  had  not  proceeded  far  when  she 
turned  her  face  round  and  condescended  to  look  at  him  again.  When 
they  parted  it  was  somehow  or  other  indispensably  necessary  for  her  to 
go  to  her  room,  and  arrange  the  cap  and  curls  before  she  could  think 
of  presenting  herself  to  her  mistress;  which  preparatory  ceremony 
she  went  off  to  perform,  bestowing  many  nods  and  smiles  on  Sam  over 
the  bannisters  as  she  tripped  up  stairs. 

*'  I  shan't  be  avay  more  than  a  day, — or  two.  Sir,  at  farthest,'*  said 
Sam,  when  he  had  communicated  to  Mr.  Pickwick  the  intelligence  of 
his  father's  loss. 

"  As  long  as  may  be  necessary,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 
**  You  have  my  full  permission  to  remain." 

Sam  bowed. 

"  You  will  tell  your  father,  Sam,  that  if  I  can  be  of  any  assistance 
to  him  in  his  present  situation,  I  shall  be  most  willing  and  ready  to 
lend  him  any  aid  in  my  power,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'^  Thankee,  Sir,"  rejoined  Sam.     "  Pll  mention  it.  Sir," 

And  with  some  expressions  of  mutual  good-will  and  interest,  master 
and  man  separated. 

It  was  just  seven  o'clock  when  Samuel  Weller,  alighting  from  the 
box  of  a  stage  coach  which  passed  through  Dorking,  stood  within  a  few 
hundred  yards  of  the  Marquis  of  Granby.  It  was  a  cold  dull  evening  ; 
the  little  street  looked  dreary  and  dismal,  and  the  mahogany  counte- 
nance of  the  noble  and  gallant  Marquis  seemed  to  wear  a  more  sad  and 
melancholy  expression  than  it  was  wont  to  do,  as  it  swung  to  and  fro, 
creaking  mournfully  in  the  wind.  The  blinds  were  pulled  down,  and 
the  shutters  partly  closed  ;  of  the  knot  of  loungers  that  usually  collected 
about  the  door,  not  one  was  to  be  seen;  the  place  was  silent  and 
desolate. 

Seeing  nobody  of  whom  he  could  ask  any  preliminary  questions,  Sam 
walked  softly  in,  and  glancing  round,  he  quickly  recognised  his  parent 
in  the  distance. 

The  widower  was  seated  at  a  small  round  table  in  the  little  room 
behind  the  bar,  smoking  a  pipe,  with  his  eyes  intently  fixed  upon  the 
fire.  The  funeral  had  evidently  taken  place  that  day,  for  attached  ta 
his  hat  which  he  still  retained  on  his  head,  was  a  hat-band  measuring 
about  a  yard  and  a  half  in  length,  which  hung  over  the  top  rail  of  the 
chair  and  streamed  negligently  down.  Mr.  Weller  was  in  a  very 
abstracted  and  contemplative  mood,  for  notwithstanding  that  Sam 
called  him  by  name  several  times  he  still  continued  to  smoke  with  the 
same  fixed  and  quiet  countenance,  and  was  only  roused  ultimately  by 
his  son's  placing  the  palm  of  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

'*  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "  you're  velcome." 
"  I've  been  a  callin'  to  you  half  a  dozen  times,"  said  Sam,  hanging 
his  hat  on  a  peg,  "  but  you  didn't  hear  me." 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB.  557 

"  No,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  again  looking  thoughtfully  at 
the  fire.     ''  1  wos  in  a  referee,  Sammy." 

"  Wot  about?"  enquired  Sam,  drawing  his  chair  up  to  the  lire. 

"In  a  referee,  Sammy,"  replied  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  "regardin' 
her,  Samivel."  Here  Mr.  Weller  jerked  his  head  in  the  direction  of 
Dorking  churchyard,  in  mute  explanation  that  his  words  referred  to 
the  late  Mrs.  Weller. 

*'  I  wos  a  thinkin',  Sammy,"  said  iMr.  Weller,  eyeing  his  son  with 
great  earnestness,  over  his  pipe,  as  if  to  assure  him  that  however  ex- 
traordinary and  incredible  the  declaration  might  appear,  it  was  never- 
theless calmly  and  deliberately  uttered,  "  I  wos  a  thinkin',  Sammy, 
that  upon  the  whole  I  wos  wery  sorry  she  wos  gone." 

"  Veil,  and  so  you  ought  to  be,"  replied  Sam. 

Mr.  Weller  nodded  his  acquiescence  in  the  sentiment,  and  again 
fastening  his  eyes  on  the  fire,  shrouded  himself  in  a  cloud,  and  mused 
deeply. 

"  Those  wos  wery  sensible  observations  as  she  made,  Sammy  .'*"  said 
JMr.  Weller,  driving  the  smoke  away  with  his  hand,  after  a  long 
silence. 

'*  Wot  observations  }  "  enquired  Sam. 

"  Them  as  she  made  arter  she  was  took  ill,"  replied  the  old  gen- 
tleman. 

«  Wot  was  they  ?  " 

"  Somethin'  to  this  here  eflfect.  '  Veller,'  she  says,  '  I'm  afeard  I've 
not  done  by  you  quite  wot  I  ought  to  have  done ;  you're  a  wery  kind- 
hearted  man,  and  I  might  ha'  made  your  home  more  comfortabler.  I 
begin  to  see  now,'  she  says,  '  ven  it's  too  late,  that  if  a  married  'ooman 
vishes  to  be  religious  she  should  begin  vith  dischargin'  her  dooties  at 
home,  and  makin'  them  as  is  about  her  cheerful  and  happy,  and  that 
vile  she  goes  to  church,  or  chapel,  or  wot  not,  at  all  proper  times,  she 
should  be  wery  careful  not  to  con-wert  this  sort  o'  thing  into  an  excuse 
for  idleness  or  self-indulgence,  or  vurse.  I  have  done  this,'  she  says,  '  and 
I've  vasted  time  and  substance  on  them  as  has  done  it  more  than  me  ; 
but  I  hope  ven  I'm  gone,  Veller,  that  you'll  think  on  me  as  I  wos  afore 
I  know'd  them  people,  and  as  I  raly  wos  by  natur.'  '  Susan,'  says  I, 
— I  wos  took  up  very  short  by  this,  Samivel ;  I  von't  deny  it,  my  boy 
— '  Susan,'  I  says,  '  you've  been  a  wery  good  vife  to  me,  altogether, 
don't  say  nothin'  at  all  about  it,  keep  a  good  heart  my  dear,  and  you'll 
live  to  see  me  punch  that  'ere  Stiggins's  head  yet.'  She  smiled  at  this, 
Samivel,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  stifling  a  sigh  with  his  pipe,  ''  but 
she  died  arter  all ! " 

''Veil,"  said  Sam,  venturing  to  offer  a  little  homely  consolation 
after  the  lapse  of  three  or  four  minutes,  consumed  by  the  old  gentle- 
man in  slowly  shaking  his  head  from  side  to  side,  and  solemnly 
smoking ;  *'  veil,  gov'ner,  ve  must  all  come  to  it,  one  day  or  another." 

"  So  we  must,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller  the  elder. 

'^  There's  a  Providence  in  it  all,"  said  Sam. 

**  O'  course  there  is,"  replied  his  father  with  a  nod  of  grave  approval. 
"  Wot  'ud  become  of  the  undertakers  vithout  it,  Sammy  ?  " 

Lost  in  the  immense  field  of  conjecture  opened  by  this  reflection. 


558 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


the  elder  Mr.  Weller  laid  his  pipe  on  the  table,  and  stirred  the  fire 
with  a  meditative  visage. 

While  the  old  gentleman  was  thus  engaged,  a  very  buxom-looking 
cook,  dressed  in  mourning,  who  had  been  bustling  about  in  the  bar, 
glided  into  the  room,  and  bestowing  many  smirks  of  recognition  upon 
Sam,  silently  stationed  herself  at  the  back  of  his  father's  chair,  and 
announced  her  presence  by  a  slight  cough,  the  which  being  disregarded, 
was  followed  by  a  louder  one. 

"Hallo!"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  dropping  the  poker  as  he 
looked  round,  and  hastily  drew  his  chair  ^away.  *^  Wot's  the  matter 
now  ?  " 

"  Have  a  cup  of  tea,  there's  a  good  soul,"  replied  the  buxom  female, 
coaxingly. 

"  I  von't,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  somewhat  boisterous  manner, 
*'  I'll  see  you — "  Mr.  Weller  hastily  checked  himself,  and  added  in  a 
low  tone,  ''  furder  fust." 

_  '^  Oh,  dear,  dear;    how  adversity  does  change  people!"  said    the 
lady,  looking  upwards. 

'■  It's  the  only  thing  'twixt  this,  and  the  doctor  as  shall  change  mt/ 
condition,"  muttered  Mr.  Weller. 

"  1  really  never  saw  a  man  so  cross,"  said  the  buxom  female. 

''  Never  mind — it's  all  for  my  own  good;  vich  is  the  reflection  vith 
wich  the  penitent  schoolboy  comforted  his  feelin's  ven  they  flogged 
him,"  rejoined  the  old  gentleman. 

The  buxom  female  shook  her  head  with  a  compassionate  and  sym- 
pathising air;  and,  appealing  to  Sam,  enquired  v/hether  his  father 
really  ought  not  to  make  an  effort  to  keep  up,  and  not  give  way  to 
that  lowness  of  spirits. 

''You  see,  Mr.  Samuel,"  said  the  buxom  female,  '^'^as  I  was  telling 
him  yesterday,  he  will  feel  lonely,  he  can't  expect  but  what  he  should, 
Sir,  but  he  should  keep  up  a  good  heart,  because,  dear  me,  I'm  sure 
we  all  pity  his  loss,  and  are  ready  to  do  anything  for  him  ;  and  there's 
no  situation  in  life  so  bad,  Mr.  Samuel,  that  it  can't  be  mended,  which 
is  what  a  very  worthy  person  said  to  me  when  my  husband  died." 
Here  the  speaker,  putting  her  hand  before  her  mouth,  coughed  again, 
and  looked  affectionately  at  the  elder  Mr.  Weller. 

''As  I  don't  rekvire  any  o'  your  conversation  just  now,  Mum,  vill 
you  have  the  goodness  to  re-tire  ? "  enquired  Mr.  Weller  in  a  grave 
and  steady  voice. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  the  buxom  female,  "  I'm  sure  I  only- 
spoke  to  you  out  of  kindness." 

"  Wer'y  likely,  Mum,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  ''Samivel,  show  the 
lady  out,  and  shut  the  door  arter  her." 

This  hint  was  not  lost  upon  the  buxom  female,  for  she  at  once  left 
the  room,  and  slammed  the  door  behind  her,  upon  which  Mr.  Weller, 
senior,  falling  back  in  his  chair  in  a  violent  perspiration,  said — 

"  Sammy,  if  I  wos  to  stop  here  alone  vun  veek — only  vun  veek,  my 
boy — that  'ere  'ooman  'ud  marry  me  by  force  and  wiolence  afore  it 
was  over." 

''  Wot,  is  she  so  wery  fond  on  you  ?  "  enquired  Sam. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  559 

"  Fond  !  "  replied  his  father,  *<  I  can't  keep  her  avay  from  me.  If 
I  was  locked  up  in  a  fire-proof  chest  vith  a  patent  Brahmin,  she'd 
find  means  to  get  at  me,  Sammy." 

*'  Wot  a  thing  it  is  to  be  so  sought  arter!"  observed  Sam,  smiling. 

**  I  don't  take  no  pride  out  on  it,  Sammy,"  replied  IMr.  Weller, 
poking  the  fire  vehemently,  *'  it's  a  horrid  sitiwation.  I'm  actiwally 
drove  out  o'  house  and  home  by  it.  The  breath  was  scarcely  out  o' 
your  poor  mother-in-law's  body,  ven  vun  old  "ooman  sends  me  a  pot 
o'  jam,  and  another  a  pot  o'  jelly,  and  another  brews  a  blessed  large 
jug  o'  camomile-tea,  vich  she  brings  in  vith  her  own  hands."  Mr. 
Weller  paused  with  an  aspect  of  intense  disgust,  and,  looking  round, 
added  in  a  whisper,  "  They  wos  all  widders,  Sammy,  all  on  'em, 
'cept  the  camomile-tea  vun,  as  wos  a  single  young  lady  o'  fifty- 
three." 

Sam  gave  a  comical  look  in  reply,  and  the  old  gentleman  having 
broken  an  obstinate  lump  of  coal,  with  a  countenance  expressive  of  as 
much  earnestness  and  malice  as  if  it  had  been  the  head  of  one  of  the 
widows  last-mentioned,  said — 

"  In  short.  Sammy,  I  feel  that  I  ain't  safe  anyveres  but  on  the 
box."  ' 

"  How  are  you  safer  there  than  anyveres  else  ?  "  interrupted  Sam. 

**  'Cos  a  coachman  's  a  privileged  indiwidual,"  replied  INIr.  Weller, 
looking  fixedly  at  his  son.  "  'Cos  a  coachman  may  do  vithout  suspi- 
cion wot  other  men  may  not ;  'cos  a  coachman  may  be  on  the  very 
amicablest  terms  with  eighty  mile  o'  females,  and  yet  nobody  think 
that  he  ever  means  to  marry  any  vun  among  'em.  And  wot  other 
man  can  say  the  same,  Sammy  ?  " 

"  Veil,  there  's  somethin'  in  that,"  said  Sam. 

"If  your  gov'ner  had  been  a  coachman,"  reasoned  Mr.  Weller,  "do 
you  s'pose  as  that  'ere  jury  'ud  ever  ha'  conwicted  him,  s'posin'  it 
possible  as  the  matter  could  ha'  gone  to  that  ex-tremity .''  They  dustn'c 
ha'  done  it." 

'^Wy  not?"  said  Sam,  rather  disparagingly. 

"  Vy  not!"  rejoined  Mr,  Weller;  "'cos  it  'ud  ha*  gone  agin  their 
consciences.  A  reg'lar  coachman's  a  sort  o'  con-nectin'  link  betvixt 
singleness  and  matrimony,  and  every  practicable  man  knows  it." 

*'  Wot  you  mean,  they're  gen'ral  fav'rites,  and  nobody  takes  adwan- 
tage  on  'em,  p'raps  ?"  said  Sam. 

His  father  nodded. 

"  How  it  ever  come  to  that  'ere  pass,"  resumed  the  parent  Weller, 
"  I  can't  say ;  vy  it  is  that  long-stage  coachmen  possess  sucli  insiniwa- 
tions,  and  is  alvays  looked  up  to — a-dored  I  may  say — by  ev'ry  young 
'ooman  in  ev'ry  town  he  vurks  through,  I  don't  know ;  I  only  know 
that  so  it  is ;  it's  a  reg'lation  of  natur — a  dispensary,  as  your  poor 
mother-in-law  used  to  say." 

"'  A  dispensation,"  said  Sam,  correcting  the  old  gentleman. 

*'  Wery  good,  Samivel,  a  dispensation  if  you  like  it  better,"  returned 
Mr.  Weller  ;  "  /  call  it  a  dispensary,  and  it's  alvays  writ  up  so,  at  the 
places  vere  they  gives  you  physic  for  nothin'  in  your  own  bottles ; 
that's  all." 

With  these  words  Mr.  Weller  re-filled  and  re-lighted  his  pipe,  and 


560  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

once  more  summoning  up  a  meditative  expression  of  countenance,  con- 
tinued as  follows :  — 

''  Therefore,  my  boy,  as  I  do  not  see  the  adwisability  o'  stoppin'  here 
to  be  married  vether  I  vant  to  or  not,  and  as  at  the  same  time  I  do  not 
vish  to  separate  myself  from  them  interestin'  members  o*  society  alto- 
gether, I  have  come  to  the  determination  o'  drivin'  the  Safety,  and 
puttin'  up  vunce  more  at  the  Bell  Savage,  vich  is  my  nat'ral-born 
element,  Sammy.*' 

"  And  wot's  to  become  o'  the  bis'ness  ?"  enquired  Sam. 

"  The  bis'ness,  Samivel,"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  "  good-vill, 
stock,  and  fixters,  vill  be  sold  by  private  con-tact ;  and  out  o'  the 
money,  two  hundred  pound,  agreeable  to  a  rekvest  o'  your  mother-in- 
law's  to  me,  a  little  afore  she  died,  vill  be  inwested  in  your  name  in — 
wot  do  you  call  them  things  again  ? '' 

"  Wot  things?"  enquired  Sam. 

"  Them  things  as  is  always  a  goin'  up  and  down  in  the  City." 

^'  Omnibuses?"  suggested  Sam. 

"  Nonsense,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  '^  Them  things  as  is  alvays  a  fluc- 
tooatin',  and  gettin'  theirselves  inwolved  somehow  or  another  vith  the 
national  debt,  and  the  checquers  bills,  and  all  that." 

''  Oh  !  the  funds,"  said  Sam. 

"  Ah  !"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  "  the  funs  ;  two  hundred  pound  o'  the 
money  is  to  be  inwested  for  you,  Samivel,  in  the  funs ;  four  and  a  half 
per  cent,  reduced  counsels,  Sammy." 

"  Wery  kind  o'  the  old  lady  to  think  o*  me,"  said  Sam,  "  and  I'm 
wery  much  obliged  to  her." 

''  The  rest  vill  be  inwested  in  my  name,"  continued  the  elder  Mr. 
Weller ;  "  and  ven  I'm  took  off  the  road,  it'll  come  to  you,  so  take  care 
you  don't  spend  it  all  at  vunst,  my  boy,  and  mind  that  no  widder  gets 
a  inklin'  o'  your  fortun',  or  you're  done." 

Having  delivered  this  warning,  Mr.  Weller  resumed  his  pipe  with  a 
more  serene  countenance  ;  the  disclosure  of  these  matters  appearing  to 
have  eased  his  mind  considerably. 

"  Somebody's  a  tappin'  at  the  door,"  said  Sam. 

"  Let  'em  tap,"  replied  his  father,  with  dignity. 

Sam  acted  upon  the  direction  :  upon  which  there  was  another  tap,  and 
another,  and  then  a  long  row  of  taps ;  upon  which  Sam  enquired  why 
the  tapper  was  not  admitted. 

"  Hush,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller,  with  apprehensive  looks,  "^  don't 
take  no  notice  on  'em,  Sammy,  it's  vun  o'  the  widders,  p'raps." 

No  notice  being  taken  of  the  taps,  the  unseen  visitor,  after  a  short 
lapse,  ventured  to  open  the  door  and  peep  in.  It  was  no  female  head 
that  was  thrust  in  at  the  partially  opened  door,  but  the  long  black 
locks  and  red  face  of  Mr.  Stiggins.  Mr.  Weller 's  pipe  fell  from  his 
hands. 

The  reverend  gentleman  gradually  opened  the  door  by  almost  im- 
perceptible degrees,  until  the  aperture  was  just  wide  enough  to  admit 
of  the  passage  of  his  lank  body,  when  he  glided  into  the  room  and 
closed  it  after  him  with  great  care  and  gentleness.  Turning  towards 
Sam,  and  raising  his  hands  and  eyes  in  token  of  the  unspeakable  sorrow 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  561 

with  which  he  regarded  the  calamity  that  had  befallen  the  family,  he 
carried  the  high-backed  chair  to  his  old  corner  by  the  fire,  and  sitting 
himself  down  on  the  very  edge  of  the  seat,  drew  forth  a  brown  pocket 
handkerchief,  and  applied  the  same  to  his  optics. 

While  this  was  going  forward,  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  sat  back  in  his 
chair  with  his  eyes  wide  open,  his  hands  planted  on  his  knees,  and  his 
whole  countenance  expressive  of  absorbing  and  overwhelming  astonish- 
ment. Sam  sat  opposite  him  in  perfect  silence,  waiting  with  eager 
curiosity  for  the  termination  of  the  scene. 

Mr.  Stiggins  kept  the  brown  pocket-handkerchief  before  his  eyes  for 
some  minutes,  moaning  decently  meanwhile,  and  then,  mastering  his 
feelings  by  a  strong  effort,  put  it  in  his  pocket  and  buttoned  it  up. 
After  this  he  stirred  the  fire  ;  after  that  he  rubbed  his  hands  and  looked 
at  Sam. 

"  Oh  my  young  friend,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  breaking  the  silence  in  a 
very  low  voice,  "  here's  a  sorrowful  affliction." 
Sam  nodded  very  slightly. 

"  For  the  man  of  wrath,  too!"  added  Mr.  Stiggins;  "  it  makes  a 
vessel's  heart  bleed !" 

Mr.  Weller  was  overheard  by  his  son  to  murmur  something  relative 
to  making  a  vessel's  nose  bleed ;  but  Mr.  Stiggins  heard  him  not. 

"  Do  you  know,  young  man,"  whispered  Mr.  Stiggins,  drawing  his 
chair  closer  to  Sam,  *^  whether  she  has  left  Emanuel  anything  ?" 
"  Who's  he  }  "  enquired  Sam. 

"  The  chapel/'  replied  Mr.  Stiggins ;  "  our  chapel ;  our  fold,  Mr. 
Samuel." 

*'  She  hasn't  left  the  fold  nothin*,  nor  the  shepherd  nothin  ,  nor  the 
animals  nothin',  "  said  Sam,  decisively  ;  "  nor  the  dogs  neither." 

Mr.  Stiggins  looked  slyly  at  Sam,  glanced  at  the  old  gentleman, 
who  was  sitting  with  his  eyes  closed,  as  if  asleep ;  and  drawing  his  chair 
still  nearer,  said, 

*'  Nothing  for  mej  Mr.  Samuel  ? " 
Sam  shook  his  head. 

'^  I  think  there's  something,"  said  Stiggins,  turning  as  pale  as  he 
could  turn.     "  Consider,  Mr.  Samuel ;  no  little  token  ?  " 

"  Not  so  much  as  the  vurth  o'  that  'ere  old  umberella  o'  yourn/* 
replied  Sam. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  hesitatingly,  after  a  few  moments' 
deep  thought,  "  perhaps  she  recommended  me  to  the  care  of  the  man 
of  wrath,  Mr.  Samuel  ?  " 

"  I  think  that's  wery  likely,  from  what  he  said,''  rejoined  Sam ;  "  he 
wos  a  speakin'  about  you,  jist  now." 

''Was  he,  though.^"  exclaimed  Stiggins,  brightening  up.  "Ah! 
He's  changed,  1  dare  say.  We  might  live  very  comfortably  together 
now,  Mr.  Samuel,  eh  ?  I  could  take  care  of  his  property  when  you  are 
away — good  care,  you  see." 

Heaving  a  long-*drawn  sigh,  ]\Ir.  Stiggins  paused  for  a  response.  Sam 
nodded,  and  Mr.  Weller,  the  elder,  gave  vent  to  an  extraordinary  sound, 
which,  being  neither  a  groan,  nor  a  grunt,  nor  a  gasp,  nor  a  growl, 
seemed  to  partake  in  some  degree  of  the  character  of  all  four. 


562 


POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS    OP 


Mr.  Stiggins,  encouraged  by  this  sound,  which  he  understood  to  be- 
token remorse  or  repentance,  looked  about  him,  rubbed  his  hands, 
wept,  smiled,  wept  again,  and  then,  walking  softly  across  the  room  to  a 
well-remembered  shelf  in  one  corner,  took  down  a  tumbler,  and,  with 
great  deliberation,  put  four  lumps  of  sugar  in  it.  Having  got  thus 
far,  he  looked  about  him  again  and  sighed  grievously ;  with  that  he 
walked  softly  into  the  bar,  and  presently  returning  with  the  tumbler  half 
full  of  pine-apple  rum,  advanced  to  the  kettle  which  was  singing  gaily 
on  the  hob,  mixed  his  grog,  stirred  it,  sipped  it,  sat  down,  and  taking 
a  long  and  hearty  pull  at  the  rum  and  water,  stopped  for  breath. 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller,  who  still  continued  to  make  various  strange 
and  uncouth  attempts  to  appear  asleep,  offered  not  a  single  word  during 
these  proceedings,  but  when  Mr.  Stiggins  stopped  for  breath,  he  darted 
upon  him,  and  snatching  the  tumbler  from  his  hand,  threw  the  re- 
mainder of  the  rum  and  water  in  his  face,  and  the  glass  itself  into 
the  grate.  Then,  seizing  the  reverend  gentleman  firmly  by  the  collar, 
he  suddenly  fell  to  kicking  him  most  furiously,  accompanying  every 
application  of  his  top-boot  to  Mr.  Stiggins's  person  with  sundry  violent 
and  incoherent  anathemas  upon  his  limbs,  eyes,  and  body. 

*'  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  '^put  my  hat  on  tight  for  me."] 

Sam  dutifully  adjusted  the  hat  with  the  long  hatband  more  firmly 
on  his  father^s  head,  and  the  old  gentleman,  resuming  his  kicking  with 
greater  agility  than  before,  tumbled  with  Mr.  Stiggins  through  the 
bar,  and  through  the  passage,  out  at  the  front  door,  and  so  into  the 
street; — the  kicking  continuing  the  whole  way,  and  increasing  in 
vehemence,  rather  than  diminishing,  every  time  the  top-boot  was  lifted 

It  was  a  beautiful  and  exhilarating  sight  to  see  the  red-nosed  man 
writhing  in  Mr.  Weller's  grasp,  and  his  whole  frame  quivering  with 
anguish  as  kick  followed  kick  in  rapid  succession ;  it  was  a  still  more 
exciting  spectacle  to  behold  Mr.  Weller,  after  a  powerful  struggle, 
immersing  Mr.  ^Stiggins's  head  in  a  horse-trough  full  of  water,  and 
holding  it  there,  till  he  was  all  but  suffocated. 

"  There,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  throwing  all  his  energy  into  one  most 
complicated  kick,  as  he  at  length  permitted  Mr.  Stiggins  to  with- 
draw his  head  from  the  trough,  *'  send  any  vun  o'  them  lazy  shepherds 
here,  and  I'll  pound  him  to  a  jelly  first,  and  drownd  him  artervards. 
Sammy,  help  me  in,  and  fill  me  a  small  glass  of  brandy.  I'm  out  o' 
breath,  my  boy." 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  563 


CHAPTER   LII. 

COMPRISING  THE  FINAL  EXIT  OF  MR.  JINGLE  AND  JOB  TROTTER  ; 
WITH  A  GREAT  MORNING  OF  BUSINESS  IN  GRAY's  INN  SQUARE. 
CONCLUDING   WITH    A    DOUBLE    KNOCK    AT    MR.    PERKEr's    DOOR. 

When  Arabella,  after  some  gentle  preparation,  and  many  assurances 
that  there  was  not  the  least  occasion  for  being  low-spirited,  was  at 
length  made  acquainted  by  Mr.  Pickwick  with  the  unsatisfactory  result 
of  his  visit  to  Birmingham,  she  burst  into  tears,  and  sobbing  aloud, 
lamented  in  moving  terms  that  she  should  have  been  the  unhappy  cause 
of  any  estrangement  between  a  father  and  his  son. 

*'My  dear  girl,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  kindly,  "  it  is  no  fault  of  yours. 
It  was  impossible  to  foresee  that  the  old  gentleman  would  be  so  strongly 
prepossessed  against  his  son's  marriage,  you  know.  I  am  sure," 
added  Mr.  Pickwick,  glancing  at  her  pretty  face,  "  he  can  have  very 
little  idea  of  the  pleasure  he  denies  himself." 

**  Oh  my  dear  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Arabella,  ''what  shall  we  do,  if 
he  continues  to  be  angry  with  us  ?  " 

*'Why,  wait  patiently,  my  dear,  until  he  thinks  better  of  it,'*  replied 
Mr.  Pickwick,  cheerfully. 

*'  But  dear  Mr.  Pickwick,  what  is  to  become  of  Nathaniel  if  his 
father  withdraws  his  assistance  ?"  urged  Arabella. 

''  In  that  case,  my  love,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  "I  will  venture  to 
prophecy  that  he  will  find  some  other  friend  who  will  not  be  backward 
in  helping  him  to  start  in  the  world." 

The  significance  of  this  reply  was  not  so  well  disguised  by  Mr. 
Pickwick  but  that  Arabella  understood  it.  So  throwing  her  arms 
round  his  neck,  and  kissing  him  affectionately,  she  sobbed  louder  than 
before. 

'*  Come,  come,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  her  hand,  "  we  will  wait 
here  a  few  days  longer,  and  see  whether  he  writes  or  takes  any  other 
notice  of  your  husband's  communication.  If  not,  I  have  thought  of 
half  a  dozen  plans,  any  one  of  which  would  make  you  happy  at  once. 
There,  my  dear — there.'* 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Pickwick  gently  pressed  Arabella's  hand, 
and  bade  her  dry  her  eyes,  and  not  distress  her  husband.  Upon  which. 
Arabella,  who  was  one  of  the  best  little  creatures  alive,  put  her  hand- 
kerchief in  her  reticule,  and  by  the  time  Mr.  Winkle  joined  them, 
exhibited  in  full  lustre  the  same  beaming  smiles  and  sparkling  eyes 
that  had  originally  captivated  him. 

"This  is  a  distressing  predicament  for  these  young  people,"  thought 
Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  dressed  himself  next  morning.  *'  1 11  walk  up  to 
Perker's,  and  consult  him  about  the  matter.'* 

B    R 


664 


rOSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


As  Mr,  Pickwick  was  further  prompted  to  betake  himself  to  Gray's 
Inn  Square  by  an  anxious  desire  to  come  to  a  pecuniary  settlement  with 
the  kind-hearted  little  attorney  without  further  delay,  he  made  a 
hurried  breakfast,  and  executed  his  intention  so  speedily  that  ten 
o'clock  had  not  struck  when  he  reached  Gray's  Inn. 

It  still  wanted  ten  minutes  to  the  hour  when  he  had  ascended  the 
staircase  on  which  Perker's  chambers  were.  The  clerks  had  not 
arrived  yet,  and  he  beguiled  the  time  by  looking  out  of  the  staircase 
window. 

The  healthy  light  of  a  fine  October  morning  made  even  the  dingy  old 
houses  brighten  up  a  little :  some  of  the  dusty  windows  actually  look- 
ing almost  cheerful  as  the  sun's  rays  gleamed  upon  them.  Clerk  after 
clerk  hastened  into  the  square  by  one  or  other  of  the  entrances,  and 
looking  up  at  the  Hall  clock,  accelerated  or  decreased  his  rate  of  walk- 
ing according  to  the  time  at  which  his  office  hours  nominally  com- 
menced; the  half-past  nine  o'clock  people  suddenly  becoming  very 
brisk,  and  the  ten  o'clock  gentlemen  falling  into  a  pace  of  most  aris- 
tocratic slowness.  The  clock  struck  ten,  and  clerks  poured  in  faster 
than  ever,  each  one  in  a  greater  perspiration  than  his  predecessor.  The 
noise  of  unlocking  and  opening  doors  echoed  and  re-echoed  on  every 
side,  heads  appeared  as  if  by  magic  in  every  window,  the  porters  took 
up  their  stations  for  the  day,  the  slipshod  laundresses  hurried  off,  the 
postman  ran  from  house  to  house,  and  the  whole  legal  hive  Avas  in  a 
bustle. 

"  You're  early,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  a  voice  behind  him. 

''Ah,  Mr.  Lowten,"  replied  that  gentleman,  looking  round,  and 
recognising  his  old  acquaintance. 

*'  Precious  warm  walking,  isn't  it?"  said  Lowten,  drawing  a  Bramah 
key  from  his  pocket,  with  a  small  plug  therein,  to  keep  the  dust  out. 

*'  You  appear  to  feel  it  so,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  smiling  at  the 
clerk,  who  was  literally  red  hot. 

"  I've  come  along,  rather,  I  can  tell  you,"  replied  Lowten.  "  It 
went  the  half  hour  as  I  came  through  the  Polygon.  I'm  here  before 
him,  though,  so  I  don't  mind." 

Comforting  himself  with  this  reflection,  Mr.  Lowten  extracted  the 
plug  from  the  door  key ;  having  opened  the  door,  replugged  and  re- 
pocketed  his  Bramah,  and  picked  up  the  letters  which  the  postman 
had  dropped  through  the  box,  he  ushered  Mr.  Pickwick  into  the  office. 
Here,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  he  divested  himself  of  his  coat,  put 
on  a  thread-bare  garment,  which  he  took  out  of  a  desk,  hung  up  his 
hat,  pulled  forth  a  few  sheets  of  cartridge  and  blotting  paper  in  alter- 
nate layers,  and  sticking  a  pen  behind  his  ear,  rubbed  his  hands  with 
an  air  of  great  satisfaction. 

"There  you  see,  Mr.  Pickwick,''  he  said,  ''now  I'm  complete.  I've 
got  my  office  coat  on,  and  my  pad  out,  and  let  him  come  as  soon  as 
he  likes.     You  haven't  got  a  pinch  of  snuff  about  you,  have  you.'^" 

*'  No,  I  have  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  it,"  said  Lowten.  '^  Never  mind — 1 11  run  out  pre- 
sently, and  get  a  bottle  of  soda.  Don't  1  look  rather  queer  about  the 
eyes,  Mr.  Pickwick  ?" 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB.  565 

The  individual  appealed  to,  surveyed  Mr.  Lowten's  eyes  from  a 
distance,  and  expressed  his  opinion  that  no  unusual  queerness  was 
perceptible  in  those  features. 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,"  said  Lowten.  "  We  were  keeping  it  up  pretty 
tolerably  at  the  Stump  last  night,  and  I'm  rather  out  of  sorts  this 
morning.  —  Perker's  been  about  that  business  of  yours,  by  the  bye." 

"What  business?"  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick — ''Mrs.  Bardell's 
costs  ? " 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  that,"  replied  Lowten.  *'  About  getting  that 
customer  that  we  paid  the  ten  shillings  in  the  pound  to  the  bill  dis- 
counter for,  on  your  account — to  get  him  out  of  the  Fleet,  you  know — 
about  getting  him  to  Demerara.'' 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Jingle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily.     "  Yes.     Well  }" 

"  Well,  it's  all  arranged,"  said  Lowten,  mending  his  pen.  "  The 
agent  at  Liverpool  said  he  had  been  obliged  to  you  many  times  when 
you  were  in  business,  and  he  would  be  glad  to  take  him  on  your 
recommendation." 

"  That's  well,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it." 

"  But  I  say,"  resumed  Lowten,  scraping  the  back  of  the  pen  pre- 
paratory to  making  a  fresh  split,  "  what  a  soft  chap  that  other  is  ! " 

"  Which  other  ?  " 

*'Why,  that  servant,  or  friend,  or  whatever  he  is — you  know; 
Trotter." 

"  Ah  ? "  said  JMr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile.  ' '  I  always  thought  him 
the  very  reverse." 

"  Well,  and  so  did  I,  from  what  little  I  saw  of  him,"  replied 
Lowten,  *'it  only  shows  how  one  maybe  deceived.  What  do  you 
think  of  his  going  to  Demerara,  too  ?  " 

*' What ! — and  giving  up  what  was  offered  him  here!"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Treating  Perker's  offer  of  eighteen  bob  a-week,  and  a  rise  if  he 
behaved  himself,  like  dirt,''  replied  Lowten.  "  He  said  he  must  go 
along  with  the  other  one,  and  so  they  persuaded  Perker  to  write  again, 
and  they've  got  him  something  on  the  same  estate ;  not  near  so  good, 
Perker  says,  as  a  convict  would  get  in  New  South  Wales,  if  he 
appeared  at  his  trial  in  a  new  suit  of  clothes." 

"  Foolish  fellow,"  said  IMr.  Pickwick,  with  glistening  eyes.  "  Foolish 
fellow." 

"  Oh,  it's  worse  than  foolish  ;  it's  downright  sneaking,  you  know," 
replied  Lowten,  nibbing  the  pen  with  a  contemptuous  face.  "  He  says 
that  he's  the  only  friend  he  ever  had,  and  he's  attached  to  him,  and  all 
that.  Friendship's  a  very  good  thing  in  its  way;  we  are  all  very 
friendly  and  comfortable  at  the  Stump,  for  instance,  over  our  grog, 
where  every  man  pays  for  himself,  but  damn  hurting  yourself  for  any- 
body else,  you  know !  No  man  should  have  more  than  two  attachments 
— the  first,  to  number  one,  and  the  second  to  the  ladies ;  that's  what  I 
say— ha!  ha!"  Mr.  Lowten  concluded  with  a  loud  laugh,  half  in 
jocularity,  and  half  in  derision,  which  was  prematurely  cut  short  by  the 
sound  of  Perker's  footsteps  on  the  stairs,  at  the  very  first  approach  of 

B  r2 


566  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS   OF 

which  he  vaulted  on  his  stool  with  an  agility  most  remarkable,  and 
wrote  intensely. 

The  greeting  between  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  professional  adviser  was 
warm  and  cordial ;  the  client  was  scarcely  ensconced  in  the  attorney's 
arm  chair,  however,  when  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  a  voice 
enquired  whether  Mr.  Perker  was  within. 

'*  Hark  ! "  said  Perker,  "  that's  one  of  our  vagabond  friends- 
Jingle  himself,  my  dear  Sir.     Will  you  see  him  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  hesitating. 

<*  Yes,  I  think  you  had  better.  Here,  you  sir,  what's  your  name, 
walk  in,  will  you  .'*" 

In  compliance  with  this  unceremonious  invitation.  Jingle  and  Job 
walked  into  the  room,  but,  seeing  Mr.  Pickwick,  stopped  short  in  some 
confusion. 

"  Well,"  said  Perker,  "  don't  you  know  that  gentleman  ?  " 

*'  Good  reason  to,"  replied  Jingle,  stepping  forward.  **  Mr.  Pick- 
wick— deepest  obligations — life  preserver — made  a  man  of  me — you 
shall  never  repent  it,  Sir." 

*'  I  am  happy  to  hear  you  say  so,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  You  look 
much  better." 

"Thanks  to  you.  Sir — great  change — Majesty's  fleet — unwholesome 
place — very,"  said  Jingle,  shaking  his  head.  He  was  decently  and 
cleanly  dressed,  and  so  was  Job,  who  stood  bolt  upright  behind  hira, 
staring  at  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  visage  of  iron. 

"  When  do  they  go  to  Liverpool  ?  "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  half 
aside  to  Perker. 

"  This  evening.  Sir,  at  seven  o'clock,"  said  Job,  taking  one  step  for- 
ward.    "  By  the  heavy  coach  from  the  city,  Sir." 

*'  Are  your  places  taken  ?  " 

*'  They  are,  Sir,"  replied  Job. 

"  You  have  fully  made  up  your  mind  to  go  ?  " 

*'  I  have.  Sir,"  answered  Job. 

'^  With  regard  to  such  an  outfit  as  was  indispensable  for  Jingle,"  said 
Perker,  addressing  Mr.  Pickwick  aloud,  '^I  have  taken  upon  myself  to 
make  an  arrangement  for  the  deduction  of  a  small  sum  from  his 
quarterly  salary,  which,  being  made  for  only  one  year,  and  regularly 
remitted,  will  provide  for  that  expense.  I  entirely  disapprove  of  your 
doing  anything  for  him,  my  dear  Sir,  which  is  not  dependent  on  his 
own  exertions  and  good  conduct." 

"Certainly,"  interposed  Jingle,  with  great  firmness.  "Clear  head 
— man  of  the  world — quite  right — perfectly.'' 

*'  By  compounding  with  his  creditor,  releasing  his  clothes  from  the 
pawnbroker's,  relieving  him  in  prison,  and  paying  for  his  passage,"  con- 
tinued Perker,  without  noticing  Jingle's  observation,  "  you  have  already 
lost  upwards  of  fifty  pounds." 

"  Not  lost,"  said  Jingle,  hastily.  '^  Pay  it  all — stick  to  business — 
cash  up — every  farthing.  Yellow  fever,  perhaps — can't  help  that — if 
not — "  Here  Mr.  Jingle  paused,  and  striking  the  crown  of  his  hat 
with  great  violence,  passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  and  sat  down. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  567 

*'  He  means  to  say,''  said  Job,  advancing  a  few  paces,  *'  that  if 
he  is  not  carried  off  by  the  fever,  he  will  pay  the  money  back  again. 
If  he  lives,  he  will^  Mr.  Pickwick.  I  will  see  it  done.  I  know 
he  will,  Sir,"  said  Job,  with  great  energy.  "  I  could  undertake  to 
swear  it." 

'*  Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been  bestowing  a  score 
or  two  of  frowns  upon  Perker,  to  stop  his  summary  of  benefits  con- 
ferred, which  the  little  attorney  obstinately  disregarded,  "  you  must  be 
careful  not  to  play  any  more  desperate  cricket  matches,  Mr.  Jingle,  or 
to  renew  your  acquaintance  with  Sir  Thomas  Blazo,  and  I  have  little 
doubt  of  your  preserving  your  health." 

Mr.  Jingle  smiled  at  this  sally,  but  looked  rather  foolish  notwith- 
standing, so  Mr.  Pickwick  changed  the  subject  by  saying, 

'*  You  don't  happen  to  know,  do  you,  what  has  become  of  another 
friend  of  yours— a  more  humble  one,  whom  I  saw  at  Rochester  .f*" 

*'  Dismal  Jemmy  ?  "  enquired  Jingle. 

"Yes." 

Jingle  shook  his  head. 

"  Clever  rascal — queer  fellow,  hoaxing  genius — Job's  brother." 

*'  Job's  brother  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Well,  now  I  look  at 
him  closely,  there  is  a  likeness." 

"  We  were  always  considered  like  each  other,  Sir,"  said  Job,  with  a 
cunning  look  just  lurking  in  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  "  only  I  was  really 
of  a  serious  nature,  and  he  never  was.  He  emigrated  to  America,  Sir, 
in  consequence  of  being  too  much  sought  after  here,  to  be  comfortable ; 
and  has  never  been  heard  of  since." 

"  That  accounts  for  my  not  having  received  the  '  page  from  the 
romance  of  real  life,'  which  he  promised  me  one  morning  when  he 
appeared  to  be  contemplating  suicide  on  Rochester  Bridge,  J  suppose," 
said  iMr.  Pickwick,  smiling.  "  I  need  not  enquire  whether  his  dismal 
behaviour  was  natural  or  assumed." 

*'  He  could  assume  anything,  Sir,"  said  Job.  "You  may  consider 
yourself  very  fortunate  in  having  escaped  him  so  easily.  On  intimate 
terms  he  would  have  been  even  a  more  dangerous  acquaintance  than — " 
Job  looked  at  Jingle,  hesitated,  and  finally  added,  "than — than — 
myself  even." 

*•  A  hopeful  family  yours,  Mr.  Trotter,"  said  Perker,  sealing  a  letter 
which  he  had  just  finished  writing. 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  replied  Job.     "  Very  much  so." 

"Well,"  said  the  little  man,  laughing;  "I  hope  you  are  going 
to  disgrace  it.  Deliver  this  letter  to  the  agent  when  you  reach  Liver- 
pool, and  let  me  advise  you,  gentlemen,  not  to  be  too  knowing  in  the 
West  Indies.  If  you  throw  away  this  chance,  you  will  both  richly 
deserve  to  be  hanged,  as  I  sincerely  trust  you  will  be.  And  now  you 
had  better  leave  Mr.  Pickwick  and  me  alone,  for  we  have  other  mat- 
ters to  talk  over,  and  time  is  precious."  As  Perker  said  this,  he  looked 
towards  the  door  with  an  evident  desire  to  render  the  leave-taking  as 
brief  as  possible. 

It  was  brief  enough  on  Mr.  Jingle's  part.  He  thanked  the  little 
attorney  in  a  few  hurried  words  for  the  kindness  and  promptitude  with 


568  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

which  he  had  rendered  his  assistance,  and,  turning  to  his  bene- 
factor, stood  for  a  few  seconds  as  if  irresolute  what  to  say  or  how 
to  act.  Job  Trotter  relieved  his  perplexity,  for  with  a  humble,  grate- 
ful bow  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  took  his  friend  gently  by  the  arm,  and 
led  him  away. 

^'^  A  worthy  couple,"  said  Perker,  as  the  door  closed  behind  them. 

"  I  hope  they  may  become  so,"  replied  Mr.  Pickmck.  '•  What  do 
you  think  ?     Is  there  any  chance  of  their  permanent  reformation  ?'* 

Perker  shrugged  his  shoulders  doubtfully,  but  observing  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's anxious  and  disappointed  look,  rejoined— 

*'  Of  course  there  is  a  chance.  I  hope  it  may  prove  a  good  one. 
They  are  unquestionably  penitent  now ;  but  then,  you  know,  they  have 
the  recollection  of  very  recent  suffering  fresh  upon  them.  What  they 
may  become  when  that  fades  away,  is  a  problem  that  neither  you  nor  I 
can  solve.  However,  my  dear  Sir,"  added  Perker,  laying  his  hand  on 
Mr.  Pickwick's  shoulder,  ^'  your  object  is  equally  honourable,  whatever 
the  result  is.  Whether  that  species  of  benevolence  which  is  so  very 
cautious  and  long-sighted  that  it  is  seldom  exercised  at  all,  lest  its 
owner  should  be  imposed  upon,  and  so  wounded  in  his  self-love,  be 
real  charity,  or  a  worldly  counterfeit,  I  leave  to  wiser  heads  than  mine 
to  determine.  But  if  those  two  fellows  were  to  commit  a  burglary  to- 
morrow, my  opinion  of  this  action  would  be  equally  high." 

With  these  remarks,  which  were  delivered  in  a  much  more 
animated  and  earnest  manner  than  is  usual  in  legal  gentlemen,  Perker 
drew  his  chair  to  his  desk,  and  listened  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  recital  of 
old  Mr.  Winkle's  obstinacy. 

'*  Give  him  a  week,"  said  Perker,  nodding  his  head  prophetically. 

"Do  you  think  he  will  come  round?  "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  think  he  will,''  rejoined  Perker.  "  If  not,  we  must  try  the 
young  lady's  persuasion ;  and  that  is  what  any  body  but  you  would  have 
done  at  first." 

Mr.  Perker  was  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff  with  various  grotesque  con- 
tractions of  countenance,  eulogistic  of  the  persuasive  powers  appertain- 
ing unto  young  ladies,  when  the  murmur  of  enquiry  and  answer  was 
heard  in  the  outer  office,  and  Lowten  tapped  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  cried  the  little  man. 

The  clerk  came  in,  and  shut  the  door  after  him  with  great  mystery. 

"W^hat'sthe  matter.?"  enquired  Perker. 

^^  You're  wanted.  Sir." 

''  Who  wants  me  }"" 

Lowten  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick  and  coughed. 

^'  Who  wants  me  ?  can't  you  speak,  Mr.  Lowten  ?  " 

"  Why,  Sir,"  replied  Lowten,  ''  It's  Mr.  Dodson ;  and  Mr.  Fogg  is 
with  him.'' 

"Bless  my  life!"  said  the  little  man,  looking  at  his  watch,  "I 
appointed  them  to  be  here  at  half-past  eleven  to  settle  that  matter  of 
yours,  Pickwick.  I  gave  them  an  undertaking  on  which  they  sent 
down  your  discharge ;  it's  very  awkward,  my  dear  Sir ;  what  will  you 
do  ?     Would  you  like  to  step  into  the  next  room  ?  " 

The  next  room  being  the  identical  room  in  which  Messrs.  Dodson 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  569 

and  Fogg  were,  Mr.  Pickwick  replied  that  he  would  remain  where  he 
was,  the  more  especially  as  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg  ought  to  be 
ashhmed  to  look  him  in  the  face,  instead  of  his  being  ashamed  to  see 
them ;  which  latter  circumstance  he  begged  Mr.  Perker  to  note,  with 
a  glowing  countenance  and  many  marks  of  indignation. 

"  Very  well,  my  dear  Sir,  very  well,"  replied  Perker,  "  I  can  only- 
say,  that  if  you  expect  either  Dodson  or  Fogg  to  exhibit  any  symptom 
of  shame  or  confusion  at  having  to  look  you,  or  anybody  else,  in  the 
face,  you  are  the  most  sanguine  man  in  your  expectations  that  /  ever 
met  with.     Show  them  in,  Mr.  Lowten." 

Mr.  Lowten  disappeared  with  a  grin,  and  immediately  returned 
ushering  in  the  firm,  in  due  form  of  precedence — Dodson  first,  and 
Fogg  afterwards. 

*'  You  have  seen  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  believe  ?  "  said  Perker  to  Dodson, 
inclining  his  pen  in  the  direction  where  that  gentleman  was  seated. 

**  How  do  you  do,  JMr.  Pickwick  ?  "  said  Dodson  in  a  loud  voice. 

"Dear  me,"  cried  Fcgg,  '' how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Pickwick.'*  1  hope 
you  are  well,  Sir.  I  thought  I  knew  the  face,"  said  Fogg,  drawing 
up  a  chair,  and  looking  round  him  with  a  smile. 

Mr.  Pickwick  bent  his  head  very  slightly  in  answer  to  these  salu- 
tations, and,  seeing  Fogg  pull  a  bundle  of  papers  from  his  coat -pocket, 
rose  and  walked  to  the  window. 

"  There's  no  occasion  for  Mr.  Pickwick  to  move,  Mr.  Perker,"  said 
Fogg,  untying  the  red  tape  which  encircled  the  little  bundle,  and 
smiling  again,  more  sweetly  than  before.  "  Mr.  Pickwick  is  pretty 
well  acquainted  with  these  proceedings,  there  are  no  secrets  between 
us  I  think.     He  !  he  !  he!" 

"  Not  many,  I  think,"  said  Dodson.  "  Pla  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  Then  both 
the  partners  laughed  together — pleasantly  and  cheerfully,  as  men  who 
are  going  to  receive  money  often  do. 

"  We  shall  make  Mr.  Pickwick  pay  for  peeping,"  said  Fogg  with 
considerable  native  humour,  as  he  unfolded  his  papers.  *^The  amount 
of  the  taxed  costs  is  one  hundred  and  thirty-three,  six  and  fourpence, 
Mr.  Perker." 

There  was  a  great  comparing  of  papers  and  turning  over  of  leaves 
by  Fogg  and  Perker  after  this  statement  of  profit  and  loss,  during 
which  Dodson  said  in  an  afifable  manner  to  Mr.  Pickwick — 

"I  don't  think  you  are  looking  quite  so  stout  as  when  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  last,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

"  Possibly  not.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been  flashing 
forth  looks  of  fierce  indignation  without  producing  the  smallest  effect 
on  either  of  the  sharp  practitioners  ;  "  I  believe  I  am  not,  Sir.  I  have 
been  persecuted  and  annoyed  by  scoundrels  of  late,  Sir." 

Perker  coughed  violently,  and  asked  Mr.  Pickwick  whether  he 
■wouldn't  like  to  look  at  the  morning  paper,  to  which  enquiry  Mr. 
Pickwick  returned  a  most  decided  negative. 

*'  True,"  said  Dodson,  "  I  dare  say  you  have  been  annoyed  in  the 
Fleet ;  there  are  some  odd  gentry  there.  Whereabouts  were  your 
apartments,  Mr.  Pickwick  ?  " 


570  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  My  one  room,"  replied  that  much-injured  gentleman,  "  was  on  the 
Coffee  Room  flight." 

*'  Oh,  indeed  !  "  said  Dodson.  '^  I  believe  that  is  a  very  pleasant 
part  of  the  establishment." 

"Very,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  drily. 

There  was  a  coolness  about  all  this,  which  to  a  gentleman  of  an 
excitable  temperament  had,  under  the  circumstances,  rather  an  exaspe- 
rating tendency.  Mr.  Pickwick  restrained  his  wrath  by  gigantic 
efforts,  but  when  Perker  wrote  a  cheque  for  the  whole  amount,  and 
Fogg  deposited  it  in  a  small  pocket-book,  with  a  triumphant  smile 
playing  over  his  pimply  features,  which  communicated  itself  likewise 
to  the  stern  countenance  of  Dodson,  he  felt  the  blood  in  his  cheeks 
tingling  with  indignation. 

*'  Now  Mr.  Dodson,"  said  Fogg,  putting  up  the  pocket-book  and 
drawing  on  his  gloves,  ''  I  am  at  your  service." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Dodson,  rising,  '^I  am  quite  ready." 
"  I  am  very  happy,"  said  Fogg,  softened  by  the  cheque,  "  to  have 
had  the  pleasure  of  making  Mr.  Pickwick's  acquaintance,     I  hope  you 
don't  think  quite  so  badly  of  us,  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  when  we  first  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you." 

*'  I  hope  not,"  said  Dodson,  with  the  high  tone  of  calumniated 
virtue.  "^Mr.  Pickwick  now  knows  us  better,  I  trust;  whatever 
your  opinion  of  gentlemen  of  our  profession  may  be,  I  beg  to  assure 
you.  Sir,  that  I  bear  no  ill-will  or  vindictive  feeling  towards  you  for 
the  sentiments  you  thought  proper  to  express  in  our  office  in  Freeman's 
Court,  Cornhill,  on  the  occasion  to  which  my  partner  has  referred," 
"  Oh  no,  no ;  nor  I,"  said  Fogg,  in  a  most  forgiving  manner. 
*^  Our  conduct.  Sir,"  said  Dodson,  "  will  speak  for  itself,  and  justify 
itself  I  hope,  upon  every  occasion.  We  have  been  in  the  profession, 
some  years,  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  have  been  honoured  with  the  confidence 
of  many  excellent  clients.     I  wish  you  good  morning,  Sir." 

*'  Good  morning,  Mr,  Pickwick,"  said  Fogg;  and  so  saying  he  put 
his  umbrella  under  his  arm,  drew  off  his  right  glove,  and  extended  the 
hand  of  reconciliation  to  that  most  indignant  gentleman,  who  there- 
upon thrust  his  hands  beneath  his  coat  tails,  and  eyed  the  attorney 
with  looks  of  scornful  amazement. 

*^  Lowten  !  "  cried  Perker  at  this  moment,  "  open  the  door," 
"  Wait  one  instant,"  said  Mr,  Pickwick,  "  Perker,  I  will  speak." 
"  My  dear  Sir,  pray  let  the  matter  rest  where  it  is,"  said  the  little 
attorney,  who  had  been  in  a  state  of  nervous  apprehension  during  the 
whole  interview ;  "  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  beg — " 

''  I  will  not  be   put  down.  Sir,"   replied   Mr.   Pickwick   hastily* 
**  Mr.  Dodson,  you  have  addressed  some  remarks  to  me." 
Dodson  turned  round,  bent  his  head  meekly,  and  smiled. 
"  Some  remarks  to  me,"  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick,  almost  breathless, 
"and  your  partner  has  tendered  me  his  hand,  and  you  have  both  as- 
sumed a  tone  of  forgiveness  and  high-mindedness,  which  is  an  extent  of 
impudence  that  I  was  not  prepared  for,  even  in  you." 
*'  What,  Sir  !  "  exclaimed  Dodson. 
*'  What,  Sir  !  "  reiterated  Fogg. 


THE    PICKWICK   CLUB.  571 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  have  been  the  victim  of  your  plots  and 
conspiracies  ?  "  continued  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Do  you  know  that  I  am 
the  man  whom  you  have  been  imprisoning  and  robbing  ?  Do  you 
know  that  you  were  the  attorneys  for  the  plaintiff  in  Bardeli  and 
Pickwick  '" 

"  Yes,  Sir,  we  do  know  it,"  replied  Dodson. 

"  Of  course  we  know  it.  Sir,"  rejoined  Fogg,  ^slapping  his  pocket — 
perhaps  by  accident. 

"  1  see  that  you  recollect  it  with  satisfaction,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
attempting  to  call  up  a  sneer  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  failing 
most  signally  in  so  doing.  "  Although  I  have  long  been  anxious  to 
tell  you  in  plain  terms  what  my  opinion  of  you  is,  I  should  have  let 
even  this  opportunity  pass  in  deference  to  my  friend  Parker's  wishes, 
but  for  the  unwarrantable  tone  you  have  assumed,  and  your  insolent 
familiarity — I  say  insolent  familiarity.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  turn- 
ing upon  Fogg  with  a  fierceness  of  gesture  which  caused  that  person  to 
retreat  towards  the  door  with  great  expedition. 

"  Take  care.  Sir,"  said  Dodson,  who,  although  he  was  the  biggest 
man  of  the  party,  had  prudently  intrenched  himself  behind  Fogg,  and 
was  speaking  over  his  head  with  a  very  pale  face.  "  Let  him  assault 
you,  Mr.  Fogg ;  don't  return  it  on  any  account." 

**  No,  no,  I  won't  return  it,"  said  Fogg,  falling  back  a  little  more 
as  he  spoke ;  to  the  evident  relief  of  his  partner,  who  by  these  means 
was  gradually  getting  into  the  outer  office. 

"  You  are,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  resuming  the  thread  of  his 
discourse,  ''  you  are  a  well-matched  pair  of  mean,  rascally,  pettifogging 
robbers." 

"Well,"  interposed  Perker,  "is  that  all?" 

"  It  is  all  summed  up  in  that,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick;  "they  are 
mean,  rascally,  pettifogging  robbers." 

"  There,"  said  Perker,  in  a  most  conciliatory  tone,  "  my  dear  Sirs, 
he  has  said  all  he  has  to  say :  now  pray  go.  Low  ten,  is  that  door 
open  ?  " 

Mr.  Lowten,  with  a  distant  giggle,  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

*'  There,  there — good  morning — good  morning — now  pray,  my  dear 
Sirs, — Mr.  Lowten,  the  door,"  cried  the  little  man,  pushing  Dodson 
and  Fogg,  nothing  loth,  out  of  the  office,  "  this  way,  my  dear  Sirs, — 
now  pray  don't  prolong  this — dear  me — INIr.  Lowten — the  door.  Sir, 
why  don't  you  attend  ?  " 

"  If  there's  law  in  England,  Sir,"  said  Dodson,  looking  towards  Mr. 
Pickwick,  as  he  put  on  his  hat,  "  you  shall  smart  for  this." 

"  You  are  a  couple  of  mean — " 

''Remember,  Sir,  you  pay  dearly  for  this,"  said  Fogg,  shaking  his 
fist. 

*' — Rascally,  pettifogging  robbers  !"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking 
not  the  least  notice  of  the  threats  that  were  addressed  to  him. 

*' Robbers  !  "  cried  IMr.  Pickwick,  running  to  the  stair-head,  as  the 
two  attorneys  descended. 

"Robbers!"  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick,  breaking  from  Lowten  and 
Perker,  and  thrusting  his  head  out  of  the  staircase  window. 


572  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS    O^ 

When  Mr.  Pickwick  drew  in  his  head  again,  his  tountenance  was 
smiling  and  placid ;  and,  walking  quietly  back  into  the  office,  he 
declared  that  he  had  now  removed  a  great  weight  from  his  mind,  and 
that  he  felt  perfectly  comfortable  and  happy. 

Perker  said  nothing  at  all  until  he  had  emptied  his  snuff-box  and 
sent  Lowten  out  to  fill  it,  when  he  was  seized  with  a  fit  of  laughing, 
which  lasted  for  five  minutes,  at  the  expiration  of  which  time  he  said 
that  he  supposed  he  ought  to  be  very  angry,  but  he  couldn't  think  of 
the  business  seriously  yet — when  he  could,  he  Avould  be. 

"  Well,  now/'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  let  me  have  a  settlement  witli 
you." 

"  Of  the  same  kind  as  the  last  .^''  enquired  Perker,  with  another 
laugh. 

"  Not  exactly,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pickwick,  drawing  out  his  pocket- 
book,  and  shaking  the  little  man  heartily  by  the  hand,  "  I  only  mean 
a  pecuniary  settlement.  You  have  done  me  many  acts  of  kindness 
that  I  can  never  repay,  and  have  no  wish  to,  for  I  prefer  continuing 
the  obligation." 

With  this  preface  the  two  friends  dived  into  some  very  complicated 
accounts  and  vouchers,  which  having  been  duly  displayed  and  gone 
through  by  Perker,  were  at  once  discharged  by  Mr.  Pickwick,  with 
many  professions  of  esteem  and  friendship. 

They  had  no  sooner  arrived  at  this  point,  than  a  most  violent  and 
startling  knocking  was  heard  at  the  door ;  it  was  not  an  ordinary 
double  knock,  but  a  constant  and  uninterrupted  succession  of  the  loud- 
est single  raps,  as  if  the  knocker  were  endowed  with  the  perpetual 
motion,  or  the  person  outside  had  forgotten  to  leave  off. 

''Dear  me,  what's  that !"  exclaimed  Perker,  starting. 

''I  think  it  is  a  knock  at  the  door,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  if  there 
could  be  the  smallest  doubt  of  the  fact ! 

The  knocker  made  a  more  energetic  reply  than  words  could  have 
yielded,  for  it  continued  to  hammer  with  surprising  force  and  noise, 
without  a  moment's  cessation 

*'Dear  me ! "  said  Perker,  ringing  his  bell,  "  we  shall  alarm  the  Inn. 
—Mr.  Lowten,  don't  you  hear  a  knock?" 

''  I'll  answer  the  door  in  one  moment,  Sir,"  replied  the  clerk. 

The  knocker  appeared  to  hear  the  response,  and  to  assert  that  it 
was  quite  impossible  he  could  wait  so  long.  It  made  a  stupendous 
uproar. 

"  It's  quite  dreadful,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  stopping  his  ears. 

''  Make  haste,  Mr.  Lowten,''  Perker  called  out,  "  we  shall  have  the 
pannels  beaten  in." 

Mr.  Lowten,  who  was  washing  his  hands  in  a  dark  closet,  hurried  to 
the  door,  and  turning  the  handle,  beheld  the  appearance  which  i§ 
described  in  the  next  chapter. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  573 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

CONTAIXING  SOME  PARTICULARS  RELATIVE  TO  THE  DOUBLE 
KNOCK,  AND  OTHER  MATTERS,  AMONG  WHICH  CERTAIN  INTE- 
RESTING DISCLOSURES  RELATIVE  TO  MR.  SNODGRASS  AND  A 
YOUNG  LADY  ARE  BY  NO  MEANS  IRRELEVANT  TO  THIS  HIS- 
TORY. 

The  object  that  presented  itself  to  the  eyes  of  the  astonished  clerk 
was  a  bov — a  wonderfully  fat  bov  — habited  as  a  servino:  lad,  standing 
upright  on  the  mat,  with  his  eyes  closed  as  if  in  sleep.  He  had  never 
seen  such  a  fat  boy  in  or  out  of  a  travelling  caravan  ;  and  this,  cou- 
pled with  the  utter  calmness  and  repose  of  his  appearance,  so  very 
different  from  what  was  reasonably  to  have  been  expected  of  the  in- 
flict er  of  such  knocks,  smote  him  with  wonder. 

"What's  the  matter?  "  enquired  the  clerk. 

The  extraordinary  boy  replied  not  a  word,  but  he  nodded  once,  and 
seemed,  to  the  clerk's  imagination,  to  snore  feebly. 

*'  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  "  enquired  the  clerk. 

The  boy  made  no  sign.  He  breathed  heavily,  but  in  all  other 
respects  was  motionless. 

The  clerk  repeated  the  question  thrice,  and  receiving  no  answer, 
prepared  to  shut  the  door,  when  the  boy  suddenly  opened  his  eyes, 
winked  several  times,  sneezed  once,  and  raised  his  hand  as  if  to  repeat 
the  knocking.  Finding  the  door  open  he  stared  about  him  with  great 
astonishment,  and  at  length  fixed  his  eyes  on  Mr.  Lowten's  face. 

"  What  the  devil  do  you  knock  in  that  way  for  ?  ''  enquired  the 
clerk,  angrily. 

''  What  way  ?  "  said  the  boy  in  a  slow,  sleepy  voice. 

'*  Why,  like  forty  hackney  coachmen,"  replied  the  clerk. 

'*  Because  master  said  I  wasn't  to  leave  off  knocking  till  they  opened 
the  door,  for  fear  I  should  go  to  sleep,"  said  the  boy. 

'^  Well,"  said  the  clerk,  "^  what  message  have  you  brought .''  *' 

'*  He's  down  stairs,"  rejoined  the  boy. 

''Who.?" 

**  Master.     He  wants  to  know  whether  you're  at  home." 

Mr.  Lowten  bethought  himself  at  this  juncture  of  looking  out  of  the 
window.  Seeing  an  open  carriage  with  a  hearty  old  gentleman  in  it, 
looking  up  very  anxiously,  he  ventured  to  beckon  him,  on  which  the 
old  gentleman  jumped  out  directly. 

"  That's  your  master  in  the  carriage,  I  suppose  }  "  said  Lowten. 

The  boy  nodded. 

All  further  enquiries  were  superseded  by  the  appearance  of  old 
Wardle,  who,  running  up  stairs  and  just  recognising  Lowten,  passed 
at  once  into  Mr.  Perker's  room. 


574  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Pickwick  !  "  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  your  hand,  my  boy ;  why 
have  I  never  heard  till  the  day  before  yesterday  of  your  suffering  your- 
self to  be  cooped  up  in  jail  ?  and  why  did  you  let  him  do  it,  Perker  ?  '' 

*'  I  couldn't  help  it,  my  dear  Sir,"  replied  Perker,  with  a  smile  and 
a  pinch  of  snuff,  ''  you  know  how  obstinate  he  is." 

"  Of  course  I  do,  of  course  I  do,"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  ''  I  am 
heartily  glad  to  see  him,  notwithstanding.  I  will  not  lose  sight  of  him 
again  in  a  hurry." 

With  these  words,  Wardle  shook  Mr.  Pickwick's  hand  once  more, 
and,  having  done  the  same  to  Perker,  threw  himself  into  an  arm-chair, 
his  jolly  red  face  shining  again  with  smiles  and  health. 

"  Well,''  said  Wardle,  ''  here  are  pretty  goings  on — a  pinch  of  your 
snuff,  Perker,  my  boy — never  were  such  times,  eh .''  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Mean  !  "  replied  Wardle,  "  why,  I  think  the  girls  are  all  running 
mad;  that's  no  news,  you'll  say.'*  perhaps  it's  not,  but  it's  true  for  all 
that." 

"  You  have  not  come  up  to  London,  of  all  places  in  the  world,  to  tell 
us  that,  my  dear  Sir,  have  you  ?  "  enquired  Perker. 

"No,  not  altogether,''  replied  Wardle ;  "though  it  was  the  main 
cause  of  my  coming.     How's  Arabella  }  " 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  and  will  be  delighted  to  see 
you,  1  am  sure." 

*' Black-eyed  little  jilt!"  replied  Wardle.  "I  had  a  great  idea  of 
marrying  her  myself,  one  of  these  odd  days.  But  I  am  glad  of  it  too, 
very  glad." 

"  How  did  the  intelligence  reach  you } "  asked  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Oh,  it  came  to  my  girls,  of  course,"  replied  Wardle.  "  Arabella 
wrote  the  day  before  yesterday  to  say  she  had  made  a  stolen  match 
without  her  husband's  father's  consent,  and  so  you  had  gone  down  to 
get  it  when  his  refusing  it  couldn't  prevent  the  match,  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  I  thought  it  a  very  good  time  to  say  something  serious  to  my 
girls,  so  I  said  what  a  dreadful  thing  it  was  that  children  should 
marry  without  their  parents'  consent,  and  so  forth ;  but,  bless  your 
hearts,  I  couldn't  make  the  least  impression  upon  them.  They  thought 
it  such  a  much  more  dreadful  thing  that  there  should  have  been  a 
wedding  without  bridesmaids,  that  I  might  as  well  have  preached 
to  Joe  himself." 

Here  the  old  gentleman  stopped  to  laugh ;  and  having  done  so,  to 
his  heart's  content,  presently  resumed. 

*'  But  this  is  not  the  best' of  it,  it  seems.  This  is  only  half  the  love- 
making  and  plotting  that  have  been  going  forward.  We  have  been 
walking  on  mines  for  the  last  six  months,  and  they're  sprung  at  last." 

"  What  do  you  mean  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  turning  pale ;  "no 
other  secret  marriage,  I  hope  } " 

"No,  no,"  replied  old  Wardle;  " not  so  bad  as  that— no." 

''  What  then  }  "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  am  I  interested  in  it  ?" 

"  Shall  I  answer  that  question,  Perker .'' "  said  Wardle. 

"  If  you  don't  commit  yourself  by  doing  so,  my  dear  Sir." 

"  Well  then,  you  are,"  said  Wardle. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  575 

*'  How?"  asked  INIr.  Pickwick  anxiously.     ''In  what  way  ?" 

"  Really,"  replied  Wardle,  "  you're  such  a  fiery  sort  of  young  fellow 
that  I  am  almost  afraid  to  tell  you ;  but,  however,  if  Perker  will  sit 
between  us  to  prevent  mischief,  I'll  venture." 

Having  closed  the  room-door,  and  fortified  himself  with  another 
application  to  Perker's  snuflf-box,  the  old  gentleman  proceeded  with  his 
great  disclosure  in  these  words. 

''  The  fact  is,  that  my  daughter  Bella — Bella,  that  married  young 
Trundle,  you  know." 

•'  Yes,  yes,  we  know,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  impatiently. 

"  Don't  alarm  me  at  the  very  beginning.  My  daughter  Bella,  Emily 
having  gone  to  bed  with  a  headach  after  she  had  read  Arabella's  letter 
to  me,  set  herself  down  by  my  side  the  other  evening,  and  began  to 
talk  over  this  marriage  affair.  '  Well  pa,'  she  says,  '  what  do  you  think 
of  it  ? '  *  Why,  my  dear,'  I  said,  '  I  suppose  it's  all  very  well ;  I  hope 
it's  for  the  best.'  I  answered  in  this  way  because  I  was  sitting  before 
the  fire  at  the  time,  drinking  my  grog  rather  thoughtfully,  and  I  knew 
my  throwing  in  an  undecided  word  now  and  then,  would  induce  her 
to  continue  talking.  Both  my  girls  are  pictures  of  their  dear  mother, 
and  as  I  grow  old  I  like  to  sit  with  only  them  by  me ;  for  their  voices 
and  looks  carry  me  back  to  the  happiest  period  of  my  life,  and  make 
me  for  the  moment  as  young  as  I  used  to  be  then,  though  not  quite 
so  light-hearted.  '  It's  quite  a  marriage  of  affection,  pa/  said  Bella, 
after  a  short  silence.  '  Yes,  my  dear,'  said  I,  '  but  such  marriages  do 
not  always  turn  out  the  happiest.'  " 

"  I  question  that,  mind,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick  warmly. 

"Very  good,"  responded  Wardle,  ''^question  anything  you  like  when 
it's  your  turn  to  speak,  but  don't  interrupt  me." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Granted,"  replied  Wardle.  "  '  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  express  your 
opinion  against  marriages  of  affection,  pa,'  said  Bella,  colouring  a 
little.  '  I  was  wrong ;  I  ought  not  to  have  said  so,  my  dear,  either,* 
eaid  I,  patting  her  cheek  as  kindly  as  a  rough  old  fellow  like  me  could 
pat  it,  *  for  your  mother's  was  one,  and  so  was  yours.'  '  It's  not  that 
I  meant,  pa,'  said  Bella.  '  The  fact  is,  pa,  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you 
about  Emily.'  " 

Mr.  Pickwick  started. 

"  What's  the  matter  now.'*"  enquired  Wardle,  stopping  in  his 
narrative. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.     *'  Pray  go  on." 

"  I  never  could  spin  out  a  story,"  said  Wardle  abruptly.  **  It  must 
come  out  sooner  or  later,  and  it'll  save  us  all  a  great  deal  of  time  if  it 
comes  at  once.  The  long  and  the  short  of  it  is,  then,  that  Bella  at  last 
mustered  up  courage  to  tell  me  that  Emily  was  very  unhappy;  that 
she  and  your  young  friend  Snodgrass  lind  been  in  constant  correspon- 
dence and  communication  ever  since  last  Christmas ;  that  she  had  very 
dutifully  made  up  her  mind  to  run  away  with  him,  in  laudable  imitation 
of  her  old  friend  and  schoolfellow;  but  that  having  some  compunctions 
of  conscience  on  the  subject,  inasmuch  as  I  had  always  been  rather 
kindly  disposed  to  both  of  them,  they  had  thought  it  better  in  the  first 


576  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 

instance  to  pay  me  the  compliment  of  asking  whether  I  would  have 
any  objection  to  their  being  married  in  the  usual  matter-of-fact  manner. 
There  now,  Mr.  Pickwick,  if  you  can  make  it  convenient  to  reduce  your 
eyes  to  their  usual  size  again,  and  to  let  me  hear  what  you  think  we 
ought  to  do,  I  shall  feel  rather  obliged  to  you." 

The  testy  manner  in  which  the  hearty  old  gentleman  uttered  this 
last  sentence  was  not  wholly  unwarranted;  for  iVIr.  Pickwick's  face 
had  settled  down  into  an  expression  of  blank  amazement  and  perplexity 
quite  curious  to  behold. 

'^  Snodgrass  I — since  last  Christmas!"  were  the  first  broken  words 
that  issued  from  the  lips  of  the  confounded  gentleman. 

"  Since  last  Christmas,"  replied  Wardle;  "that's  plain  enough,  and 
very  bad  spectacles  we  must  have  worn,  not  to  have  discovered  it 
before." 

"  I  don't  understand  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ruminating ;  "  I  really 
cannot  understand  it." 

''It's  easy  enough  to  understand,"  replied  the  choleric  old  gentle- 
man. "  If  you  had  been  a  younger  man,  you  would  have  been  in  the 
secret  long  ago ;  and  besides,"  added  Wardle  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, ''  the  truth  is,  that,  knowing  nothing  of  this  matter,  I  have  rather 
pressed  Emily  for  four  or  five  months  past  to  receive  favourably  (if  she 
could;  I  would  never  attempt  to  force  a  girl's  inclinations)  the  addresses 
of  a  young  gentleman  down  in  our  neighbourhood.  I  have  no  doubt 
that,  girl-like,  to  enhance  her  own  value  and  increase  the  ardour  of 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  she  has  represented  this  matter  in  very  glowing  colours, 
and  that  they  have  both  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  they  are  a  terri- 
bly persecuted  pair  of  unfortunates,  and  have  no  resource  but  clandes- 
tine matrimony  or  charcoal.     Now  the  question  is,  what's  to  be  done.'*" 

'^  What  have  you  done  t "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I !" 

"  I  mean  what  did  you  do  when  your  married  daughter  told  you 
this.?" 

*'  Oh,  I  made  a  fool  of  myself  of  course,"  rejoined  Wardle. 

"  Just  so,"  interposed  Perker,  who  had  accompanied  this  dialogue 
with  sundry  twitchings  of  his  watch-chain,  vindictive  rubbings  of 
his  nose,  and  other  symptoms  of  impatience.  "  That's  very  natural ; 
but  how  ?  " 

^'  I  went  into  a  great  passion  and  frightened  my  mother  into  a  fit," 
said  Wardle. 

'^  That  was  judicious,"  remarked  Perker;  "and  what  else,  my  dear 
Sir?" 

"  I  fretted  and  fumed  all  next  day,  and  raised  a  great  disturbance," 
rejoined  the  old  gentleman.  "  At  last  1  got  tired  of  rendering  myself 
unpleasant  and  making  everybody  miserable;  so  I  hired  a  carriage  at 
Muggleton,  and,  putting  my  own  horses  in  it,  came  up  to  town,  under 
pretence  of  bringing  Emilv  to  see  Arabella." 

"  Miss  Wardle  is  with  you,  then  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  To  be  sure  she  is,"  replied  Wardle.  "  She  is  at  Osborne's  hotel  in 
the  Adelphi  at  this  moment,  unless  your  enterprising  friend  has  run 
away  with  her  since  1  came  out  this  morning." 


1 

J 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  577 

"  You  are  reconciled,  then  ?  "  said  Perker. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  answered  Wardle ;  "  she  has  been  crying  and 
moping  ever  since,  except  last  night,  between  tea  and  supper,  when  she 
made  a  great  parade  of  writing  a  letter^  that  I  pretended  to  take  no 
notice  of." 

*'  You  want  my  advice  in  this  matter,  I  suppose?"  said  Perker,  look- 
ing from  the  musing  face  of  INIr.  Pickwick  to  the  eager  countenance 
of  Wardle,  and  taking  several  consecutive  pinches  of  his  favourite 
stimulant. 

*^  I  suppose  so,"  said  Wardle,  looking  at  Mr.  Pickwick. 
''Certainly,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

"  Well  then,"  said  Perker,  rising  and  pushing  his  chair  back,  "  my 
advice  is,  that  you  both  walk  away  together,  or  ride  away,  or  get  away 
by  some  means  or  other,  for  I'm  tired  of  you^  and  just  talk  this  matter 
over  between  you.  If  you  have  not  settled  it  by  the  next  time  I  see 
you,  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do." 

"  This  is  satisfactory,"  said  Wardle,  hardly  knowing  whether  to 
smile  or  be  offended. 

*'  Pooh,  pooh,  my  dear  Sir,"  returned  Perker,  *'  I  know  you  both  a 
great  deal  better  than  you  know  yourselves.  You  have  settled  it 
already,  to  all  intents  and  purposes." 

Thus  expressing  himself,  the  little  gentleman  poked  his  snuff-<box, 
first  into  the  chest  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  then  into  the  waistcoat  of 
Mr.  Wardle,  upon  which  they  all  three  laughed,  but  especially  the  two 
last-named  gentlemen,  who  at  once  shook  hands  again,  without  any 
obvious  or  particular  reason. 

"  You  dine  with  me  to-day,"  said  Wardle  to  Perker,  as  he  showed 
them  out. 

*'  Can't  promise,  my  dear  Sir,  can't  promise,"  replied  Perker.  '*  I'll 
look  in,  in  the  evening,  at  all  events." 

*'  I  shall  expect  you  at  five,"  said  Wardle.  '^  Now,  Joe;"  and  Joe 
having  been  at  length  awakened,  the  two  friends  departed  in  Mr. 
Wardle's  carriage,  which  in  common  humanity  had  a  dickey  behind  for 
the  fat  boy,  who,  if  there  had  been  a  foot-board  instead,  would  have 
rolled  off  and  killed  himself  in  his  very  first  nap. 

Driving  to  the  George  and  Vulture,  they  found  that  Arabella  and 
her  maid  had  sent  for  a  hackney-coach  immediately  on  the  receipt  of  a 
short  note  from  Emily  announcing  her  arrival  in  town,  and  had  pro- 
ceeded straight  to  the  Adelphi.  As  Wardle  had  business  to  transact 
in  the  city,  they  sent  the  carriage  and  the  fat  boy  to  his  hotel,  with  the 
information  that  he  and  Mr.  Pickv\ick  would  return  together  to  dinner 
at  five  o'clock. 

Charged  with  this  message,  the  fat  boy  returned,  slumbering  as 
peaceably  in  his  dickey  over  the  stones  as  if  it  had  been  a  down  bed  on 
watch-springs.  By  some  extraordinary  miracle  he  awoke  of  his  own 
accord,  when  the  coach  stopped,  and  giving  himself  a  good  shake  to  stir 
up  his  faculties,  went  up  stairs  to  execute  his  commission. 

Now,  whether  the  shake  had  jumbled  the  fat  boy's  faculties  together 
instead  of  arranging  them  in  proper  order,  or  had  roused  such  a  quan- 
tity of  new  ideas  within  him  as  to  render  him  oblivious  of  ordinary 


578  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

forms  and  ceremonies,  or  (which  is  also  possible)  had  proved  unsuc- 
cessful in  preventing  his  falling  asleep  as  he  ascended  the  stairs,  it  is 
an  undoubted  fact  that  he  walked  into  the  sitting  room  without  pre- 
viously knocking  at  the  door,  and  so  beheld  a  gentleman  with  his  arm 
clasping  his  young  mistress's  waist,  sitting  very  lovingly  by  her  side 
on  a  sofa,  while  Arabella  and  her  pretty  handmaid  feigned  to  be  ab- 
sorbed in  looking  out  of  a  window  at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  At 
sight  of  which  phenomenon  the  fat  boy  uttered  an  interjection,  the 
ladies  a  scream,  and  the  gentleman  an  oath,  almost  simultaneously. 

it  Wretched  creature,  what  do  you  want  here?"  said  the  gentleman, 
who  it  is  needless  to  say  was  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

To  this  the  fat  boy,  considerably  terrified,  briefly  responded, 
"Missis." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  for  ?"  enquired  Emily,  turning  her  head 
aside,  ^'  you  stupid  creature." 

"  Master  and  Mr.  Pickwick  is  a  going  to  dine  here  at  five,"  replied 
the  fat  boy. 

"  Leave  the  room,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  glaring  upon  the  bewildered 
youth. 

**  No,  no,  no,"  added  Emily  hastily.     "  Bella,  dear,  advise  me." 

Upon  this,  Emily  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  Arabella  and  Mary, 
crowded  into  a  corner  and  conversed  earnestly  in  whispers  for  some 
minutes,  during  which  the  fat  boy  dozed. 

"  Joe,"  said  Arabella,  at  length,  looking  round  with  a  most  be- 
witching smile,  "  how  do  you  do,  Joe?" 

"  Joe,"  said  Emily,  "  you're  a  very  good  boy  ;  I  won't  forget  you, 
Joe." 

"  Joe,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  advancing  to  the  astonished  youth,  and 
seizing  his  hand,  "  I  didn't  know  you  before.  There's  five  shillings 
for  you,  Joe,^^ 

"  I'll  owe  you  five,  Joe,"  said  Arabella,  "  for  old  acquaintance  sake, 
you  know,"  and  another  most  captivating  smile  was  bestowed  upon  the 
corpulent  intruder. 

The  fat  boy's  perception  being  slow,  he  looked  rather  puzzled  at  first 
to  account  for  this  sudden  prepossession  in  his  favour,  and  stared 
about  him  in  a  very  alarming  manner.  At  length  his  broad  face  began 
to  show  symptoms  of  a  grin  of  proportionately  broad  dimensions,  and 
then  thrusting  half  a  crown  into  each  of  his  pockets,  and  a  hand  and 
wrist  after  it,  he  burst  into  a  horse  laugh :  being  for  the  first  and  only 
time  in  his  existence. 

"  He  understands  us,  I  see,"  said  Arabella. 

"  He  had  better  have  something  to  eat  immediately,"  remarked 
Emily. 

The  fat  boy  almost  laughed  again  when  he  heard  this  suggestion. 
Mary,  after  a  little  more  whispering,  tripped  forth  from  the  group,  and 
said, — 

"  I  am  going  to  dine  with  you  to-day.  Sir,  if  you  have  no  ob- 
jection." 

"  This  way,"  said  the  fat  boy,  eagerly.  "  There  is  such  a  jolly 
meat  pie ! " 


w 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  579 

p  With  these  words  the  fat  hoy  led  the  way  down  stairs,  his  pretty 
companion  captivating  all  the  waiters  and  angering  all  the  chamher- 
maids  as  she  followed  him  to  the  eating  room. 

There  was  the  meat  pie  of  which  the  youth  had  spoken  so  feelingly: 
and  there  were,  moreover,  a  steak  and  a  dish  of  potatoes,  and  a  pot  of 
porter. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  the  fat  boy.  "  Oh,  my  eye,  how  prime  !  I  am 
so  hungry.'' 

Having  apostrophized  his  eye  in  a  species  of  rapture  five  or  six  times, 
the  youth  took  the  head  of  the  little  table,  and  Mary  set  herself  at  the 
bottom . 

"  Will  you  have  some  of  this?"  said  the  fat  bov,  plunging  into  the 
pie  up  to  the  very  ferules  of  the  knife  and  fork. 

"  A  little,  if  you  please,"  replied  IMary. 

The  fat  boy  assisted  Mary  to  a  little,  and  himself  to  a  great  deal, 
and  was  just  going  to  begin  eating  when  he  suddenly  laid  down  his 
knife  and  fork,  leant  forward  in  his  chair,  and  letting  his  hands,  with 
the  knife  and  fork  in  them,  fall  on  his  knees,  said,  very  slowly, 

"  I  say,  how  nice  you  do  look ! " 

This  was  said  in  an  admiring  manner,  and  was,  so  far,  gratifying  ; 
but  still  there  was  enough  of  the  cannibal  in  the  young  gentleman's 
eyes  to  render  the  compliment  a  doubtful  one. 

"  Dear  me,  Joseph,"  said  Mary,  affecting  to  blush,  "  what  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

The  fat  boy,  gradually  recovering  his  former  position,  replied  with  a 
heavy  sigh,  and  remaining  thoughtful  for  a  few  moments,  drank  a  long 
draught  of  the  porter.  Having  achieved  this  feat  he  sighed  again,  and 
applied  himself  assiduously  to  the  pie. 

"  What  a  nice  young  lady  Miss  Emily  is  !  "  said  Mary,  after  a  long 
silence. 

The  fat  boy  had  by  this  time  finished  the  pie.  He  fixed  his  eyes  on 
Mary,  and  replied — 

*'  I  knows  a  nicerer." 

*'  Indeed  !  "  said  Mary. 

**  Yes,  indeed  !  "  replied  the  fat  boy,  with  unwonted  vivacity. 

*'  What's  her  name.''  "  enquired  Mary. 

"What's  yours?" 

"  Mary." 

*'  So's  hers,"  said  the  fat  boy.  "  You're  her."  The  boy  grinned  to 
add  point  to  the  compliment,  and  put  his  eyes  into  something  between 
a  squint  and  a  cast,  which  there  is  reason  to  believe  he  intended  for 
an  ogle. 

"  You  musn't  talk  to  me  in  that  way,"  said  Mary ;  "  you  don't 
mean  it." 

*«  Don't  I  though?  "  replied  the  fat  boy ;  "I  say—" 

"Well." 

"  Are  you  going  to  come  here  regular?  " 

"  No,"  rejoined  Marv,  shaking  her  head,  "  I'm  going  awav  again  to- 
night.    Why?"  *  &      &        J    & 

s  s 


580  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Oh ! "  said  the  fat  boy,  in  a  tone  of  strong  feeling ;  '*  how  we 
should  have  enjoyed  ourselves  at  meals,  if  you  had  been  !  " 

"  I  might  come  here  sometimes  perhaps,  to  see  you,"  said  Mary, 
plaiting  the  table  cloth  in  assumed  coyness,  '•  if  you  would  do  me  a 
favour." 

The  fat  boy  looked  from  the  pie  dish  to  the  steak,  as  if  he  thought  a 
favour  must  be  in  a  manner  connected  with  something  to  eat ;  and  then 
took  out  one  of  the  half-crowns  and  glanced  at  it  nervously. 

"  Don't  you  understand  me  ?  "  said  Mary,  looking  slyly  in  his  fat]face. 

Again  he  looked  at  the  half-crown,  and  said  faintly,  "  No." 

''  The  ladies  want  you  not  to  say  anything  to  the  old  gentleman  about 
the  young  gentleman  having  been  up  stairs ;   and  I  want  you  too." 

"  Is  that  all!  "  said  the  fat  boy,  evidently  very  much  relieved  as  he 
pocketed  the  half-crown  again.     "  Of  course  I  ain't  a  going  to." 

*'  You  see,"  said  Mary,  "  Mr.  Snodgrass  is  very  fond  of  Miss  Emily, 
and  Miss  Emily's  very  fond  of  him,  and  if  you  were  to  tell  about  it, 
the  old  gentleman  would  carry  you  all  away  miles  into  the  country, 
where  you'd  see  nobody." 

'*  No,  no,  I  won't  tell,"  said  the  fat  boy,  stoutly. 

"  That's  a  dear,"  said  Mary.  "  Now  it's  time  I  went  up  stairs^  and 
got  my  lady  ready  for  dinner." 

^*  Don't  go  yet,"  urged  the  fat  boy. 

"  I  must,"  replied  Mary.     "  Good  bye,  for  the  present.'' 

The  fat  boy,  with  elephantine  playfulness,  stretched  out  his  arms 
to  ravish  a  kiss ;  but  as  it  required  no  great  agility  to  elude  him,  his 
fair  enslaver  had  vanished  before  he  closed  them  again ;  upon  which  the 
apathetic  youth  ate  a  pound  or  so  of  steak  with  a  sentimental  counte- 
nance, and  fell  fast  asleep. 

There  was  so  much  to  say  up  stairs,  and  there  were  so  many  plans 
to  concert  for  elopement  and  matrimony  in  the  event  of  old  Wardle 
continuing  to  be  cruel,  that  it  wanted  only  half  an  hour  to  dinner 
when  Mr.  Snodgrass  took  his  final  adieu.  The  ladies  ran  to  Emily's 
bedroom  to  dress,  and  the  lover,  taking  up  his  hat,  walked  out  of  the 
Toom.  He  had  scarcely  got  outside  the  door,  when  he  heard  Wardle's 
voice  talking  loudly ;  and  looking  over  the  bannisters,  beheld  him, 
followed  by  some  other  gentlemen,  coming  straight  up  stairs.  Knowing 
nothing  of  the  house,  Mr.  Snodgrass  in  his  confusion  stepped  hastily 
back  into  the  room  he  had  just  quitted,  and  passing  from  thence  into 
an  inner  apartment  (Mr.  Wardle's  bedchamber),  closed  the  door  softly, 
just  as  the  persons  he  had  caught  a'  glimpse  of,  entered  the  sitting 
room.  These  were  Mr.  Wardle,  and  Mr.  Pickwick ;  Mr.  Nathaniel 
Winkle  and  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  whom  he  had  no  difiSculty  in  recog- 
nising by  their  voices. 

"  Very  lucky  I  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  avoid  them,"  thought 
Mr.  Snodgrass  with  a  smile,  and  walking  on  tiptoe  to  another  door  near 
the  bedside,  "  this  opens  into  the  same  passage,  and  I  can  walk  quietly 
and  comfortably  away." 

There  was  only  one  obstacle  to  his  walking  quietly  and  comfortably 
away,  which  was,  that  the  door  was  locked  and  the  key  gone. 


I 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  ^581 

"  Let  US  have  some  of  your  best   wine   to-day,  waiter,"  said  old 
Wardle,  rubbing  his  hands. 

"  You  shall  have  some  of  the  very  best.  Sir,"  replied  the  waiter. 

"  Let  the  ladies  know  we  have  come  in." 

"  Yes,  Sir." 

Devoutly  and  ardently  did  Mr.  Snodgrass  wish  that  the  ladies  could 
know  he  had  corae  in.  He  ventured  once  to  whisper  '*  Waiter  !"  through 
the  keyhole,  but  the  probability  of  the  wrong  waiter  coming  to  his 
relief  Hashing  upon  his  mind,  together  with  a  sense  of  the  strong  resem- 
blance between  his  own  situation  and  that  in  which  another  gentleman 
had  been  recently  found  in  a  neighbouring  hotel  (an  account  of  whose 
misfortunes  had  appeared  under  the  head  of  "  Police  "  in  that  morning's 
paper),  he  set  himself  down  upon  a  portmanteau,  and-  trembled 
violently. 

"  We  won't  wait  a  minute  for  Perker,"  said  Wardle,  looking  at  his 
watch ;  "  he  is  always  exact.  He  will  be  here  in  time  if  he  means  to 
come  ;  and  if  he  does  not,  it's  of  no  use  waiting.     Ha  !   Arabella." 

**  My  sister !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  folding  her  in  a  most 
romantic  embrace. 

*'  Oh,  Ben,  dear,  how  you  do  smell  of  tobacco,"  said  Arabella,  rather 
overcome  by  this  mark  of  affection. 

"  Do  I.?"  said  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  "  Do  I,  Bella?  Well,  perhaps 
I  do." 

Perhaps  he  did,  having  just  left  a  pleasant  little  smoking  party  of 
twelve  medical  students  in  a  small  back  parlour  with  a  large  fire. 

"But  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,"  said  Mr.  Ben  Allen.  "  Bless  you, 
Bella." 

"  There,"  said  Arabella,  bending  forward  to  kiss  her  brother  ;  "  don't 
take  hold  of  me  again,  Ben  dear,  because  you  tumble  me  so." 

At  this  point  of  the  reconciliation,  Mr.  Ben  Allen  allowed  his  feelings 
and  the  cigars  and  porter  to  overcome  him ;  and  looked  round  upon  the 
beholders  with  damp  spectacles. 

'^  Is  nothing  to  be  said  to  me  ?  "  cried  Wardle,  with  open  arms. 

"  A  great  deal,"  whispered  Arabella,  as  she  received  the  old  gen- 
tleman's hearty  caress  and  congratulation.  "  You  are  a  hard-hearted, 
unfeeling,  cruel,  monster  !  " 

"  You  are  a  little  rebel,"  replied  Wardle,  in  the  same  tone  ;  "  and  I 
am  afraid  I  shall  be  obliged  to  forbid  you  the  house.  People  like  you, 
who  get  married  in  spite  of  everybody,  ought  not  to  be  let  loose  on  society. 
But  come,"  added  the  old  gentleman  aloud,  "  Here's  the  dinner ;  you 
shall  sit  by  me.     Joe ;  why,  damn  the  boy,  he's  awake  ! " 

To  the  great  distress  of  his  master,  the  fat  boy  was  indeed  in  a  state 
of  remarkable  vigilance,  his  eyes  being  wide  open,  and  looking  as  if  they 
intended  to  remain  so.  There  was  an  alacrity  in  his  manner  too  which 
was  equally  unaccountable  ;  every  time  his  eyes  met  those  of  Emily  or 
Arabella,  he  smirked  and  grinned  ;  and  once  Wardle  could  have  sworn 
he  saw  him  wink. 

This  alteration  in  the  fat  boy's  demeanour  originated  in  his  increased 
sense  of  his  own  importance,  and  the  dignity  he  acquired  from  having 
been  taken  into  the  confidence  of  the  young  ladies  ;  and  the  smirks  and 

s  s2 


582  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

grins,  and  winks,  were  so  many  condescending  assurances  that  they 
might  depend  upon  his  fidelity.  As  these  tokens  were  rather  calcu- 
lated to  awaken  suspicion  than  allay  it,  and  were  somewhat  embarrass- 
ing besides,  they  v/ere  occasionally  answered  by  a  frown  or  shake  of 
the  head  from  Arabella,  which  the  fat  boy  considering  as  hints  to  be  on 
his  guard,  expressed  his  perfect  understanding  of,  by  smirking,  grinning, 
and  winking,  with  redoubled  assiduity. 

"  Joe,"  said  Mr.  Wardle  after  an  unsuccessful  search  in  all  his 
pockets,  ^^  is  my  snutf-box  on  the  sofa  ?  " 

"  No,  Sir,"  replied  the  fat  boy. 

"  Oh,  I  recollect ;  I  left  it  on  my  dressing  table  this  morning,"  said 
Wardle.     "  Run  into  the  next  room  and  fetch  it." 

The  fat  boy  went  into  the  next  room,  and  having  been  absent  about 
a  minute,  returned  with  the  snuff-box  and  the  palest  face  that  ever  a 
fat  boy  wore. 

'*  What's  the  matter  with  the  boy  !"  exclaimed  Wardle, 

•'^  Nothen's  the  matter  with  me,"  replied  Joe,  nervously. 

"  Have  you  been  seeing  any  spirits  ? "  enquired  the  old  gentleman. 

^'  Or  taking  any  ?  "  added  Ben  Allen. 

**  I  think  you're  right,"  whispered  Wardle  across  the  table.  ^'^He  is 
intoxicated,  I'm  sure." 

Ben  Allen  replied  that  he  thought  he  Avas  ;  and  as  that  gentleman 
had  seen  a  vast  deal  of  the  disease  in  question,  Wardle  was  confirmed 
in  an  impression  which  had  been  hovering  about  his  mind  for  half  an 
hour,  and  at  once  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  the  fat  boy  was  very 
drunk. 

"Just  keep  your  eye  upon  him  for  a  few  minutes,"  murmured 
Wardle.     "  We  shall  soon  find  out  whether  he  is  or  not." 

The  unfortunate  youth  had  only  interchanged  a  dozen  words  with 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  that  gentleman  having  implored  him  to  make  a  private 
appeal  to  some  friend  to  release  him,  and  then  pushed  him  out  with 
the  snuff'-box,  lest  his  prolonged  absence  should  lead  to  a  discovery. 
He  ruminated  a  little  with  a  most  disturbed  expression  of  face,  and  left 
the  room  in  search  of  Mary. 

But  Mary  had  gone  home  after  dressing  her  mistress,  and  the  fat 
boy  came  back  again,  more  disturbed  than  before. 

Wardle  and  Mr.  Ben  Allen  exchanged  glances. 

*^  Zo^"  said  Wardle. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

'^  What  did  you  go  away  for?" 

The  fat  boy  looked  hopelessly  in  the  face  of  everybody  at  table,  and 
stammered  out  that  he  didn't  know. 

"  Oh,"  said  Wardle,  "you  don't  know,  eh.?  Take  this  cheese  to 
Mr.  Pickwick." 

Now,  Mr.  Pickwick  being  in  the  very  best  health  and  spirits,  had 
been  making  himself  perfectly  delightful  all  dinner-time,  and  was  at 
this  moment  engaged  in  an  energetic  conversation  with  Emily  and  Mr. 
Winkle ;  bowing  his  head  courteously  in  the  emphasis  of  his  discourse, 
gently  waving  his  left  hand  to  lend  force  to  his  observations,  and  all 
glowing  with  placid  smiles.     He  took  a  piece  of  cheese  from  the  plate. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  583 

and  was  upon  the  point  of  turning  round  to  renew  the  conversation, 
when  the  fat  boy,  stooping  so  as  to  bring  his  head  on  a  level  with  that 
of  Mr.  Pickwick,  pointed  with  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder  and  made 
the  most  horrible  and  hideous  face  that  was  ever  seen  out  of  a 
pantomime. 

"Dear  me!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  starting,  '^  what  a  very — eh?" 
He  stopped,  for  the  fat  boy  had  drawn  himself  up,  and  was,  or  pre- 
tended to  be,  fast  asleep. 

*'  What's  the  matter  ?  "  enquired  Wardle. 

"  This  is  such  an  extremely  singular  lad  of  yours,"  replied  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, looking  uneasily  at  the  boy.  "  It  seems  an  odd  thing  to  say, 
but,  upon  my  word,  I  am  afraid  that  at  times  he  is  a  little  deranged." 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Pickwick,  pray  don't  say  so,"  cried  Emily  and  Arabella, 
both  at  once. 

*' I  am  not  certain,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  amidst  profound 
silence,  and  looks  of  general  dismay ;  "  but  his  manner  to  me  this 
moment  was  really  very  alarming.  Oh !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick, 
suddenly  jumping  up  with  a  short  scream,  '*  I  beg  your  pardon,  ladies, 
but  at  that  moment  he  ran  some  sharp  instrument  into  my  leg.  ,j  Really 
he  is  not  safe." 

"  He's  drunk,"  roared  old  Wardle,  passionately.  '^  Ring  the  bell, 
call  the  waiters !  he's  drunk." 

'*  I  ain't,"  said  the  fat  boy,  falling  on  his  knees  as  his  master  seized 
him  by  the  collar.     "  I  ain't  drunk." 

"  Then  you're  mad — that's  worse.  Call  the  waiters,"  said  the  old 
gentleman. 

"  I  ain't  mad  ;  I'm  sensible,"  rejoined  the  fat  boy,  beginning  to  cry. 

*'  Then,  what  the  devil  did  you  run  sharp  instruments  into  Mr. 
Pickwick's  legs  for  ?  "  enquired  Wardle,  angrily. 

''  He  wouldn't  look  at  me,"  replied  the  boy.  *'  I  wanted  to  speak  to 
him." 

"  What  did  you  want  to  say  ?  "  asked  half  a  dozen  voices  at  once. 

The  fat  boy  gasped,  looked  at  the  bedroom  door,  gasped  again,  and 
wiped  two  tears  away  with  the  knuckle  of  each  of  his  fore-fingers. 

"  What  did  you  want  to  say  ?  "  demanded  Wardle,  shaking  him. 

*'  Stop,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  allow  me.  What  did  you  wish  to 
communicate  to  me,  my  poor  boy  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  whisper  to  you,''  replied  the  fat  boy. 

"  You  want  to  bite  his  ear  off,  I  suppose,"  said  Wardle.  '*  Don't  come 
near  him,  he's  vicious ;  ring  the  bell,  and  let  him  be  taken  down 
stairs." 

Just  as  Mr.  Winkle  caught  the  bell-rope  in  his  hand,  it  was  arrested 
by  a  general  expression  of  astonishment ;  the  captive  lover,  his  face 
burning  with  confusion,  suddenly  walked  in  from  the  bedroom,  and 
made  a  comprehensive  bow  to  the  company. 

"  Hallo !  "  cried  Wardle,  releasing  the  fat  boy's  collar,  and  staggering 
back,  "  What's  this  !  " 

"  I  have  been  concealed  in  the  next  room.  Sir,  since  you  returned," 
explained  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Emily,  my  girl,"  said  Wardle,  reproachfully,  "  I  detest  meanness 


584  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

and  deceit ;  this  is  unjustifiable  and  indelicate  in  the  highest  degree. 
1  don't  deserve  this,  at  your  hands  Emily,  indeed.'' 

"  Dear  papa,"  said  Emily,  *'  Arabella  knows — everybody  here  knows  ; 
Joe  knows — that  I  was  no  party  to  this  concealment.  Augustus,  for 
Heaven's  sake,  explain  it." 

Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  had  only  waited  for  a  hearing,  at  once  recounted 
how  he  had  been  placed  in  his  then  distressing  predicament ;  how  the 
fear  of  giving  rise  to  domestic  dissensions  had  alone  prompted  him  to 
avoid  Mr.  Wardle  on  his  entrance ;  and  how  he  merely  meant  to  de- 
part by  another  door,  but,  finding  it  locked,  had  been  compelled  to 
stay  against  his  will.  It  was  a  painful  situation  to  be  placed  in ;  but 
he  now  regretted  it  the  less,  inasmifch  as  it  afforded  him  an  oppor- 
tunity of  acknowledging  before  their  mutual  friends  that  he  loved  Mr* 
Wardle's  daughter  deeply  and  sincerely,  that  he  was  proud  to  avow 
that  the  feeling  was  mutual,  and  that  if  thousands  of  miles  were  placed 
between  them,  or  oceans  rolled  their  waters,  he  could  never  for  an  in- 
stant forget  those  happy  days  when  first — et  cetera,  et  cetera. 

Having  delivered  himself  to  this  effect,  ISlr.  Snodgrass  bowed  again, 
looked  into  the  crown  of  his  hat,  and  stepped  towards  the  door. 

"  Stop  !"  shouted  Wardle.     ^'  Why,  in  the  name  of  all  that's " 

"  Inflammable,"  mildly  suggested  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  thought  some- 
thing worse  was  coming. 

"  Well — that's  inflammable,"  said  Wardle,  adopting  the  substitute  5 
'^'^ couldn't  you  say  all  this  to  me  in  the  first  instance.^" 

*'  Or  confide  in  me  ?  "  added  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Dear,  dear,"  said  Arabella,  taking  up  the  defence,  "  what  is  the 
use  of  asking  all  that  now,  especially  when  you  know  you  had  set  your 
covetous  old  heart  on  a  richer  son-in-law,  and  are  so  wild  and  fierce 
besides,  that  everybody  is  afraid  of  you,  except  me.  Shake  hands  with 
him,  and  order  him  some  dinner,  for  goodness  gracious  sake,  for  he 
looks  half  starved  ;  and  pray  have  your  wine  up  at  once,  for  you'll  not 
be  tolerable  until  you  have  taken  two  bottles  at  least." 

The  worthy  old  gentleman  pulled  Arabella's  ear,  kissed  her  without 
the  smallest  scruple,  kissed  his  daughter  also  \vith  great  aflfection,  and 
shook  Mr.  Snodgrass  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"  She  is  right  upon  one  point  at  all  events,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
cheerfully.     "  Ring  for  the  wine." 

The  wine  came,  and  Perker  came  up  stairs  at  the  same  moment,  Mr. 
Snodgrass  had  dinner  at  a  side  table,  and  when  he  had  dispatched  it 
drew  his  chair  next  Emily,  without  the  smallest  opposition  on  the  old 
gentleman's  part. 

The  evening  was  excellent.  Little  Mr.  Perker  came  out  wonder- 
fully, told  various  comic  stories,  and  sang  a  serious  song,  which  was 
almost  as  funny  as  the  anecdotes.  Arabella  was  very  charming,  Mr. 
Wardle  very  jovial,  Mr.  Pickwick  very  harmonious,  Mr.  Ben  Allen  very 
uproarious,  the  lovers  very  silent,  Mr.  Winkle  very  talkative,  and  all 
of  them  very  happy. 


THE   PICKWICK    CLUB.  585 


CHAPTER   LIV. 

MR.  SOLOMON  PELL,  ASSISTED  BY  A  SELECT  COMMITTEE  OF 
COACHMEN,  ARRANGES  THE  AFFAIRS  OF  THE  ELDER  MR. 
WELLER. 

"  Samivel,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  accosting  his  son  on  the  morning 
after  the  funeral,  "  I've  found  it,  Sammy.     I  thought  it  vos  there." 

"  Thought  wot  wos  vere  ? ''  enquired  Sam. 

"  Your  mother-in-law's  vill,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  '<  In 
wirtue  o'  vich,  them  arrangements  is  to  be  made  as  I  told  you  on  last 
night  respectin  the  funs." 

"  Wot,  didn't  she  tell  you  vere  it  wos  .'*"  enquired  Sam. 

"Not  a  bit  on  it,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "  Ve  vos  a  adjest- 
in*  our  little  differences,  and  I  vos  a  cheerin'  her  spirits  and  bearin'  her 
up,  so  that  I  forgot  to  ask  anythin'  about  it.  I  don't  know  as  I  should 
ha'  done  it  indeed,  if  I  had  remembered  it,"  added  Mr.  Weller,  "  for 
it's  a  rum  sort  o'  thing,  Sammy,  to  go  a  hankerin'  arter  anybody's  pro- 
perty, ven  you're  assistin*  'em  in  illness.  It's  like  helping  an  outside 
passenger  up  ven  he's  been  pitched  off  a  coach,  and  puttin'  your  hand 
in  his  pocket,  vile  you  ask  him  vith  a  sigh  how  he  finds  his-self, 
Sammy." 

With  this  figurative  illustration  of  his  meaning,  Mr.  Weller  un- 
clasped his  pocket-book,  and  drew  forth  a  dirty  sheet  of  letter  paper, 
on  which  were  inscribed  various  characters  crowded  together  in  re- 
markable confusion. 

"  This  here  is  the  dockyment,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  I  found 
it  in  the  little  black  teapot  on  the  top  shelf  o'  the  bar  closet.  She  used 
to  keep  bank  notes  there  'afore  she  vos  married,  Samivel.  I've  seen  her 
take  the  lid  off  to  pay  a  bill,  many  and  many  a  time.  Poor  creetur,  she 
might  ha'  filled  all  the  teapots  in  the  house  vith  vills,  and  not  have 
inconwenienced  herself  neither,  for  she  took  wery  little  of  anythin*  in 
that  vay  lately,  'cept  on  the  Temperance  nights,  ven  they  just  laid  a 
foundation  o'  tea  to  put  the  spirits  a-top  on." 

"  What  does  it  say  ?  "  enquired  Sam. 

'^  Jist  vot  I  told  you,  my  boy,"  rejoined  his  parent.  *^Two  Imndred 
pounds  vurth  o'  reduced  counsels  to  my  son-in-law,  Samivel,  and  all 
the  rest  o'  my  property  of  ev'ry  kind  and  description  votsoever  to  my 
husband,  Mr.  Tony  Veller,  who  I  appint  as  my  sole  eggzekiter." 

'*  That's  all,  is  it  ?  "  said  Sam. 

"  That's  all,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "  And  I  s'pose  as  it's  all  right 
and  satisfactory  to  you  and  me,  as  is  the  only  parties  interested,  ve  may 
as  veil  put  this  bit  o'  paper  into  the  fire." 


586  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"Wot  are  you  a-doin' on,  you  lunatic?"  said  Sam,  snatching  the 
paper  away,  as  his  parent,  in  all  innocence,  stirred  the  fire  preparatory 
to  suiting  the  action  to  the  word.     "  You're  a  nice  eggzekiter,  you  are.'* 

"  Vy  not  ?"  enquired  Mr.  Weller,  looking  sternly  round,  with  the 
poker  in  his  hand. 

"  Vy  not ! "  exclaimed  Sam, — "  'cos  it  must  be  proved,  and  probated, 
and  sworn  to,  and  all  manner  o'  formalities." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  ? "  said  Mr.  Weller,  laying  down  the  poker. 

Sam  buttoned  the  will  carefully  in  a  side  pocket,  intimating  by  a 
look  meanwhile,  that  he  did  mean  it,  and  very  seriously  too. 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you  wot  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  after  a  short  medita- 
tion, "  this  is  a  case  for  that  'ere  confidential  pal  o'  the  Chancellorship's. 
Pell  must  look  into  this,  Sammy.  He's  the  man  for  a  difficult 
question  at  law.  Ve'll  have  this  here  brought  afore  the  Solvent  court 
directly,  Samivel." 

"  I  never  did  see  such  a  addle-headed  old  creetur  !"  exclaimed  Sam, 
irritably,  *'  Old  Baileys,  and  Solvent  Courts,  and  alleybis,  and  ev'ry 
species  o'  gammon  alvays  a-runnin'  through  his  brain.  You'd  better 
get  your  out  o'  door  clothes  on,  and  come  to  town  about  this  bisness,  than 
stand  a  preachin'  there  about  wot  you  don't  understand  nothin'  of." 

'' Wery  good,  Sammy,''  replied  Mr.  Weller.  *^I'm  quite  agreeable 
to  anythin'  as  vill  hexpedite  business,  Sammy.  But  mind  this  here, 
my  boy,  nobody  but  Pell — nobody  but  Pell  as  a  legal  ad  wiser." 

^'  I  don't  want  anybody  else,"  replied  Sam. — '^  Now,  are  you  a- 
comin' } " 

'^  Vait  a  minit,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  who,  having  tied  his 
shawl  with  the  aid  of  a  small  glass  that  hung  in  the  window,  was  now, 
by  dint  of  the  most  wonderful  exertions,  struggling  into  his  upper 
garments.  "Vait  a  minit,  Sammy;  ven  you  grow  as  old  as  your 
father,  you  von't  get  into  your  veskit  quite  as  easy  as  you  do  now, 
my  boy." 

"  If  I  couldn't  get  into  it  easier  than  that,  I'm  blessed  if  I'd  vear  vun 
at  all,"  rejoined  his  son. 

"  You  think  so  now,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  the  gravity  of  age, 
"  but  you'll  find  that  as  you  get  vider  you'll  get  viser.  Vidth  and 
visdom,  Sammy,  alvays  grows  together." 

As  Mr.  Weller  delivered  this  infallible  maxim — the  result  of  many 
years'  personal  experience  and  observation — he  contrived,  by  a  dexterous 
twist  of  his  body,  to  get  the  bottom  button  of  his  coat  to  perform  its 
office.  Having  paused  a  few  seconds  to  recover  breath,  he  brushed  his 
hat  with  his  elbow,  and  declared  himself  ready. 

"  As  four  heads  is  better  than  two,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  as 
they  drove  along  the  London  road  in  the  chaise  cart,  "  and  as  all  this 
here  property  is  a  wery  great  temptation  to  a  legal  gen'lm'n,  ve'll  take 
a  couple  o'  friends  o'  mine  vith  us,  as  '11  be  wery  soon  down  upon  him 
if  he  comes  anythin'  irreg'lar ;  two  o'  them  as  saw  you  to  the  Fleet 
that  day.  They're  the  wery  best  judges,"  added  Mr.  Weller  in  a 
half  whisper,  "  the  wery  best  judges  of  a  horse  you  ever  know'd." 

"  And  of  a  lawyer  too .'' "  enquired  Sam. 

*^  The  man  as  can  form  a  ackerate  judgment  of  a  animal,  can  form 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  587 

a  ackerate  judgment  of  anythin',"  replied  liis  father;  so  dogmatically, 
that  Sam  did  not  attempt  to  controvert  the  position. 

In  pursuance  of  this  notable  resolution,  the  services  of  the  mottled- 
faced  gentleman  and  of  two  other  very  fat  coachmen — selected  by 
Mr.  Weller,  probably,  with  a  view  to  their  width  and  consequent 
wisdom — were  put  into  requisition ;  and  this  assistance  having  been 
secured,  the  party  proceeded  to  the  public-house  in  Portugal-street, 
whence  a  messenger  was  dispatched  to  the  Insolvent  Court  over  the 
way,  requiring  Mr.  Solomon  Pell's  immediate  attendance. 

The  messenger  fortunately  found  Mr.  Solomon  Pell  in  court,  regaling 
himself,  business  being  rather  slack,  with  a  cold  collation  of  an 
Abernethy  biscuit  and  a  saveloy.  The  message  was  no  sooner 
whispered  in  his  ear  than  he  thrust  them  in  his  pocket  among  various 
professional  documents,  and  hurried  over  the  way  with  such  alacrity 
that  he  reached  the  parlour  before  the  messenger  had  even  emancipated 
himself  from  the  court. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  I\Ir.  Pell,  touching  his  hat,  *^my  service  to  you 
all.  I  don't  say  it  to  flatter  you,  gentlemen,  but  there  are  not  five 
other  men  in  the  world  that  I'd  have  come  out  of  that  court  for, 
to-day." 

"  So  busy,  eh  ?  "  said  Sam. 

''Busy !"  replied  Pell  j  "  I'm  completely  sewn  up,  as  my  friend  the 
late  Lord  Chancellor  many  a  time  used  to  say  to  me,  gentlemen,  when 
he  came  out  from  hearing  appeals  in  the  House  of  Lords.  Poor 
fellow !  he  was  very  susceptible  of  fatigue ;  he  used  to  feel  those 
appeals  uncommonly.  I  actually  thought  more  than  once  that  he'd 
have  sunk  under  them,  I  did  indeed." 

Here  JMr.  Pell  shook  his  head,  and  paused ;  upon  which  the  elder 
Mr.  Weller,  nudging  his  neighbour,  as  begging  him  to  mark  the 
attorney's  high  connections,  asked  whether  the  duties  in  question 
produced  any  permanent  ill  effects  on  the  constitution  of  his  noble 
friend. 

''I  don't  think  he  ever  quite  recovered  them,"  replied  Pell;  "in 
fact  I'm  sure  he  never  did.  *  Pell,'  he  used  to  say  to  me  many  a  time, 
'  how  the  blazes  you  can  stand  the  head-work  you  do,  is  a  mystery  to 
me.' — *  Well,'  I  used  to  answer,  '/hardly  know  how  I  do  it,  upon  my 
life.' — '  Pell,'  he'd  add,  sighing,  and  looking  at  me  with  a  little  envy 
— friendly  envy,  you  know,  gentlemen,  mere  friendly  envy ;  I  never 
minded  it — '  Pell,  you're  a  wonder ;  a  wonder.'  Ah !  you'd  have 
liked  him  very  much  if  you  had  known  him,  gentlemen.  Bring  me 
three  penn'orth  of  rum,  my  dear." 

Addressing  this  latter  remark  to  the  waitress  in  a  tone  of  subdued 
grief,  Mr.  Pell  sighed,  looked  at  his  shoes,  and  the  ceiling  ;  and,  the 
rum  having  by  that  time  arrived,  drank  it  up. 

*'  However,"  said  Pell,  drawing  a  chair  up  to  the  table,  "  a  pro- 
fessional man  has  no  right  to  think  of  his  private  friendships  when  his 
legal  assistance  is  wanted.  By  the  bye,  gentlemen,  since  I  saw  you 
here  before,  we  have  had  to  weep  over  a  very  melancholy  occurrence." 

Mr.  Pell  drew  out  a  pocket-handkerchief  when  he  came  to  the  word 


588  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

weep,  but  he  made  no  further  use  of  it  than  to  wipe  away  a  slight 
tinge  of  rum  which  hung  upon  his  upper  lip. 

"I  saw  it  in  the  Advertiser,  Mr.  Weller,''  continued  Pell.  "  Bless 
my  soul,  not  more  than  lifty-two  !  dear  me — only  think." 

These  indications  of  a  musing  spirit  were  addressed  to  the  mottled- 
faced  man,  whose  eyes* Mr.  Pell  had  accidentally  caught ;  upon  which 
the  mottled-faced  man,  whose  apprehension  of  matters  in  general  was 
of  a  foggy  nature,  moved  uneasily  in  his  seat,  and  opined  that  indeed, 
so  far  as  that  went,  there  was  no  saying  how  things  was  brought 
about;  which  observation  involving  one  of  those  subtle  propositions 
which  it  is  difficult  to  encounter  in  argument,  was  controverted  by 
nobody. 

"I  have  heard  it  remarked  that  she  was  a  very  fine  woman,  Mr. 
Weller,"  said  Pell  in  a  sympathising  manner. 

"  Yes,  Sir,  she  wos,"  replied  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  not  much  relish- 
ing this  mode  of  discussing  the  subject,  and  yet  thinking  that  the 
attorney,  from  his  long  intimacy  with  the  late  Lord  Chancellor,  must 
know  best  on  all  matters  of  polite  breeding.  "  She  wos  a  wery  fine 
'ooman.  Sir,  ven  I  first  know'd  her.  She  wos  a  widder.  Sir,  at  that 
time." 

"Now,  it's  curious,"  said  Pell,  looking  round  with  a  sorrowful 
smile  ;  "  Mrs.  Pell  was  a  widow." 

"  That's  very  extraordinary,"  said  the  mottled-faced  man. 

"  Well,  it  is  a  curious  coincidence,"  said  Pell. 

"  Not  at  all,"  gruffly  remarked  the  elder  Mr.  Weller.  "  More 
widders  is  married  than  single  vimin." 

"  Very  good,  very  good,"  said  Pell,  "  you're  quite  right,  Mr.  Weller. 
Mrs.  Pell  was  a  very  elegant  and  accomplished  woman ;  her  manners 
were  the  theme  of  universal  admiration  in  our  neighbourhood.  I  was 
proud  to  see  that  woman  dance ;  there  was  something  so  firm  and 
dignified  and  yet  natural  in  her  motion.  Her  cutting,  gentlemen,  was 
simplicity  itself — Ah  !  well,  well !  Excuse  my  asking  the  question, 
Mr,  Samuel,"  continued  the  attorney  in  a  lower  voice,  "  was  your 
mother-in-law  tall }  " 

^"^Not  wery,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Mrs.  Pell  was  a  tall  figure,"  said  Pell,  "  a  splendid  woman,  with  a 
noble  shape,  and  a  nose,  gentlemen,  formed  to  command  and  be  majestic. 
She  was  very  much  attached  to  me — very  much — highly  connected,  too ; 
her  mother's  brother,  gentlemen,  failed  for  eight  hundred  pound  as  a 
Law  Stationer." 

"  Veil,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  who  had  grown  rather  restless  during  this 
discussion,  "  vith  regard  to  bis'ness." 

The  word  was  music  to  Pell's  ears.  He  had  been  revolving  in  his 
mind  whether  any  business  was  to  be  transacted,  or  whether  he  had  been 
merely  invited  to  partake  of  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water,  or  a  bowl  of 
punch,  or  any  similar  professional  compliment,  and  now  the  doubt  was 
set  at  rest  without  his  appearing  at  all  eager  for  its  solution.  His  eyes 
glistened  as  he  laid  his  hat  on  the  table,  and  said — 

"  What  is  the  business  upon  which — um  }     Either  of  these  gentle- 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  589 

men  wish  to  go  through  the  court  ?  We  require  an  arrest,  a  friendly- 
arrest  will  do,  you  know;  we  are  all  friends  here,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Give  me  the  dockyment,  Sammy,"  said  Mr,  Weller,  taking  the  will 
from  his  son,  who  appeared  to  enjoy  the  interview  amazingly.  "  Wot 
we  rek-vire,  Sir,  is  a  probe  o'  this  here." 

*'  Probate,  my  dear  Sir,  probate,"  said  Pell. 

*' Veil,  Sir,"  replied  ISIr.  Weller  sharply,  "  probe  and  probe  it,  is 
wery  much  the  same ;  if  you  don't  understand  wot  I  mean.  Sir,  I  des- 
say  I  can  find  them  as  does." 

"  No  offence  I  hope,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Pell,  meekly.  "  You  are  the 
executor  I  see,"  he  added,  casting  his  eyes  over  the  paper. 

"  I  am,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

'•'  These  other  gentlemen,  I  presume,  are  legatees,  are  they  ? "  enquired 
Pell  with  a  congratulatory  smile. 

''  Sammy  is  a  leg-at-ease,"  replied  Mr.  Weller ;  "  these  other 
gen'l'men  is  friends  o'  mine,  just  come  to  see  fair ; — a  kind  of  umpires." 

'^  Oh!"  said  Pell,  "very  good.  I  have  no  objections,  I'm  sure.  I 
shall  want  a  matter  of  five  pound  of  you  before  I  begin,  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !" 

It  being  decided  by  the  committee  that  the  five  pounds  might  be 
advanced,  Mr.  AV^eller  produced  that  sum,  after  which  a  long  consul- 
tation, about  nothing  particular,  took  place,  in  the  course  whereof  Mr. 
Pell  demonstrated,  to  the  perfect  satisfaction  of  the  gentlemen  who  saw 
fair,  that  unless  the  management  of  the  business  had  been  entrusted  to 
him,  it  must  all  have  gone  wrong,  for  reasons  not  clearly  made  out,  but 
no  doubt  sufficient.  This  important  point  being  dispatched,  ^Ir.  Pell 
refreshed^himself  with  three  chops,  and  liquids  both  malt  and  spirituous, 
at  the  expense  of  the  estate,  and  then  they  all  went  away  to  Doctors' 
Commons. 

The  next  day  there  was  another  visit  to  Doctors'  Commons,  and  a 
great  to-do  with  an  attesting  ostler,  who,  being  inebriated,  declined 
swearing  anything  but  profane  oaths,  to  the  great  scandal  of  a  proctor 
and  surrogate.  Next  week  there  were  more  visits  to  Doctors'  Com- 
mons, and  a  visit  to  the  Legacy  Duty  Office  besides,  and  treaties  en- 
tered into  for  the  disposal  of  the  lease  and  business,  and  ratifications  of 
the  same,  and  inventories  to  be  made  out,  and  lunches  to  be  taken,  and 
dinners  to  be  eaten,  and  so  many  profitable  things  to  be  done,  and  such 
a  mass  of  papers  accumulated,  that  Mr.  Solomon  Pell  and  the  boy, 
and  the  blue  bag  to  boot,  all  got  so  stout  that  scarcely  anybody  would 
have  known  them  for  the  same  man,  boy,  and  bag,  that  had  loitered 
about  Portugal  Street  a  few  days  before. 

At  length  all  these  weighty  matters  being  arranged,  a  day  was  fixed 
for  selling  out  and  transferring  the  stock,  and  of  waiting  with  that 
riew  upon  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esq.,  stock-broker,  of  somewhere  near  the 
Bank,  who  had  been  recommended  by  Mr.  Solomon  Pell  for  the  pur- 
pose. 

It  was  a  kind  of  festive  occasion,  and  the  parties  were  attired  accor- 
dingly. Mr.  Weller's  tops  were  newly  cleaned,  and  his  dress  was 
arranged  with  peculiar  care :  the  mottled-faced  gentleman  wore  at  his 
button  hole  a  full  sized  dahlia  with  several  leaves,  and  the  coats  of  his 
two  friends  were  adorned  with  nosegays  of  laurel  and  other  evergreens. 


590  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

All  three  were  habited  in  strict  holiday  costume;  that  is  to  say,  they 
were  wrapped  up  to  the  chins,  and  wore  as  many  clothes  as  possible, 
which  is,  and  has  been,  a  stage-coachman's  idea  of  full  dress  ever  since 
stage-coaches  were  invented. 

Mr.  Pell  was  waiting  at  the  usual  place  of  meeting  at  the  appointed 
time  ;  and  even  he  wore  a  pair  of  gloves  and  a  clean  shirt,  the  latter 
much  frayed  at  the  collar  and  wristbands  by  frequent  washings. 

"A  quarter  to  two,"  said  Pell,  looking  at  the  parlour  clock.  ^'If 
we  are  with  Mr.  Flasher  at  a  quarter  past,  we  shall  just  hit  the  best 
time." 

''  What  should  you  say  to  a  drop  o'  beer,  genl'men  ?"  suggested  the 
mottled-faced  man, 

"  And  a  little  bit  o'  cold  beef,''  said  the  second  coachman. 

"  Or  a  oyster,"  added  the  third,  who  was  a  hoarse  gentleman,  sup- 
ported by  very  round  legs. 

*' Hear,  hear!"  said  Pell;  *^to  congratulate  Mr.  Weller,  on  his 
coming  into  possession  of  his  property  :  eh  ?  ha  !  ha !  " 

"  I'm  quite  agreeable,  gen'l'men,"  answered  Mr.  Weller.  '*  Sammy, 
pull  the  bell." 

Sam  complied ;  and  the  porter,  cold  beef,  and  oysters  being  promptly 
produced,  the  lunch  was  done  ample  justice  to.  Where  everybody  took 
so  active  a  part,  it  is  almost  invidious  to  make  a  distinction ;  but  if  one 
individual  evinced  greater  powers  than  another,  it  was  the  coachman 
with  the  hoarse  voice,  who  took  an  imperial  pint  of  vinegar  with  his 
oysters,  without  betraying  the  least  emotion. 

"  Mr.  Pell,  Sir,"  said  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  stirring  a  glass  of 
brandy  and  water,  of  which  one  was  placed  before  every  gentleman 
when  the  oyster  shells  were  removed  ;  ''Mr.  Pell,  Sir,  it  wos  my  in- 
tention to  have  proposed  the  funs  on  this  occasion,  but  Samivel  has 
vispered  to  me — " 

Here  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  who  had  silently  eat  his  oysters  with 
tranquil  smiles,  cried  *'  Hear  ! "  in  a  very  loud  voice. 

<f Has  vispered  to  me,"  resumed  his  father,  "  that  it  vouldbe  better 

to  de-wote  the  liquor  to  vishin'  you  success  and  prosperity;  and 
thankin  you  for  the  manner  in  which  you've  brought  this  here  busi- 
ness through.     Here's  your  health,  Sir." 

"  Hold  hard  there,"  interposed  the  mottled-faced  gentleman,  with 
sudden  energy,  "  your  eyes  on  me,  genTmen." 

Saying  this,  the  mottled-faced  gentleman  rose,  as  did  the  other  gen- 
tlemen. The  mottled-faced  gentleman  reviewed  the  company,  and 
slowly  raised  his  hand,  upon  which  every  man  (including  he  of  the 
mottled  countenance)  drew  a  long  breath,  and  lifted  his  tumbler  to  his 
lips.  In  one  instant  the  mottled-faced  gentleman  depressed  his  hand 
again,  and  every  glass  was  set  down  empty.  It  is  impossible  to  de- 
scribe the  thrilling  effect  produced  by  this  striking  ceremony ;  at  once 
dignified,  solemn,  and  impressive,  it  combined  every  element  of  gran- 
deur. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pell,  ''  all  I  can  say  is,  that  such 
marks  of  confidence  must  be  very  gratifying  to  a  professional  man.  I 
don't  wish  to  say  anything  that  might  appear  egotistical,  gentlemen, 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  591 

but  I'm  very  glad,  for  your  own  sakes,  that  you  came  to  me :  that's  all. 
If  you  had  gone  to  any  low  member  of  the  profession,  it's  my  firm  con- 
viction, and  I  assure  you  of  it  as  a  fact,  that  you  would  have  found 
yourselves  in  Queer  Street  before  this.  I  could  have  wished  my  noble 
friend  had  been  alive  to  have  seen  my  management  of  this  case  ;  I 
don't  say  it  out  of  pride,  but  I  think — however,  gentlemen,  I  won't 
trouble  you  with  that.  I'm  generally  to  be  found  here,  gentlemen,  but 
if  I'm  not  here,  or  over  the  way,  that's  my  address.  You'll  tind  my 
terms  very  cheap  and  reasonable,  and  no  man  attends  more  to  his 
clients  than  I  do,  and  I  hope  I  know  a  little  of  my  profession  besides. 
If  you  have  any  opportunity  of  recommending  me  to  any  of  your 
friends,  gentlemen,  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you,  and  so  will 
they  too,  when  they  come  to  know  me.      Your  healths,  gentlemen." 

With  this  expression  of  his  feelings,  Mr.  Solomon  Pell  laid  three 
small  written  cards  before  Mr.  Wellcr's  friends,  and,  looking  at  the 
clock  again,  feared  it  was  time  to  be  walking.  Upon  this  hint  Mr. 
Weller  settled  the  bill,  and,  issuing  forth,  the  executor,  legatee,  attor- 
ney, and  umpires,  directed  their  steps  towards  the  city. 

The  office  of  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  of  the  Stock  Exchange,  was 
in  a  first  floor  up  a  court  behind  the  Bank  of  England ;  the  house  of 
Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  was  at  Brixton,  Surrey  ;  the  horse  and  stan- 
hope of  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  were  at  an  adjacent  livery  stable  ; 
the  groom  of  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  was  on  his  way  to  the  West 
End  to  deliver  some  game ;  the  clerk  of  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  had 
gone  to  his  dinner ;  and  so  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  himself,  cried, 
*'  Come  in,"  when  Mr.  Pell  and  his  companions  knocked  at  the 
counting-house  door. 

"  Good  morning.  Sir,"  said  Pell,  bowing  obsequiously.  *'  We  want 
to  make  a  little  transfer,  if  you  please." 

*^Oh,  just  come  in,  will  you?"  said  Mr.  Flasher.  "  Sit  down  a 
minute ;  TU  attend  to  you  directly." 

"  Thank  you.  Sir,"  said  Pell,  "  there's  no  hurry.  Take  a  chair, 
Mr.  Weller." 

Mr.  Weller  took  a  chair,  and  Sam  took  a  box,  and  the  umpires  took 
what  they  could  get,  and  looked  at  the  almanack  and  one  or  two  papers 
which  were  wafered  against  the  wall,  with  as  much  open-eyed  rever- 
ence as  if  they  had  been  the  finest  efforts  of  the  old  masters. 

"  Well,  I'll  bet  you  haif  a  dozen  of  claret  on  it;  come,"  said 
Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  resuming  the  conversation  to  which  Mr. 
Pell's  entrance  had  caused  a  momentary  interruption. 

This  was  addressed  to  a  very  smart  young  gentleman  who  wore  his 
hat  on  his  right  whisker,  and  was  lounging  over  the  desk  killing  flies 
with  a  ruler.  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  was  balancing  himself  on  two 
legs  of  an  office  stool,  spearing  a  wafer-box  with  a  penknife,  which  he 
dropped  every  now  and  then  with  great  dexterity  into  the  very  centre 
of  a  small  red  wafer  that  was  stuck  outside.  Both  gentlemen  had  very 
open  waistcoats  and  very  rolling  collars,  and  very  small  boots  and  very 
big  rings,  and  very  little  watches  and  very  large  guard  chains,  and  sym- 
metrical inexpressibles  and  scented  pocket  handkerchiefs. 


592  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

*'  I  never  bet  half  a  dozen/'  said  the  other  gentleman.  "  I'll  take  a 
dozen." 

<*  Done^,  Simmery,  done !  "  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire. 

*'  P.  P.^  mind,  "  observed  the  other. 

"  Of  course/'  replied  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire ;  and  Wilkins 
Flasher,  Esquire,  entered  it  in  a  little  book  with  a  gold  pencil-case,  and 
the  other  gentleman  entered  it  also^  in  another  little  book  with  another 
gold  pencil  case. 

"  I  see  there's  a  notice  up  this  morning  about  BofFer,"  observed 
Mr.  Simmery.     "  Poor  devil,  he's  expelled  the  house." 

''  I'll  bet  you  ten  guineas  to  five  he  cuts  his  throat,"  said  Wilkins 
Flasher,  Esquire. 

^'  Done,"  replied  Mr.  Simmery. 

*'  Stop !  I  bar,"  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  thoughtfully. 
*'  Perhaps  he  may  hang  himself." 

"  Very  good,"  rejoined  Mr.  Simmery,  pulling  out  the  gold  pencil- 
case  again.  "  I've  no  objection  to  take  you  that  way.  Say— makes 
away  with  himself." 

"  KiUs  himself,  in  fact,"  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire. 

*'  Just  so/'  replied  Mr.  Simmery,  putting  it  down.  "  ^Flasher — 
ten  guineas  to  five,  BofFer  kills  himself.'  Within  what  time  shall  we 
say  ? " 

"  A  fortnight  ?  "  suggested  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire. 

"  Con-found  it,  no  ;  "  rejoined  Mr.  Simmery,  stopping  for  an  instant 
to  smash  a  fly  with  the  ruler.     "  Say  a  week." 

*^  Split  the  difference,"  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire.  "  Make  it 
ten  days." 

*^  Well;  ten  days,"  rejoined  Mr.  Simmery. 

So,  it  was  entered  down  in  the  little  books  that  Boffer  was  to  kill 
himself  within  ten  days,  or  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  was  to  hand  over 
to  Frank  Simmery,  Esquire,  the  sum  of  ten  guineas ;  and  that  if 
Boffer  did  kill  himself  within  that  time,  Frank  Simmery,  Esquire, 
would  pay  to  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  five  guineas,  instead. 

"  I'm  very  sorry  he  has  failed/'  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire. 
"  Capital  dinners  he  gave." 

"  Fine  port  he  had  too,"  remarked  Mr.  Simmery.  "  We  are  going 
to  send  our  butler  to  the  sale  to-morrow,  to  pick  up  some  of  that 
sixty-four." 

"  The  devil  you  are  !"  said  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire.  "  My  man's 
going  too.     Five  guineas  my  man  outbids  your  man." 

«  Done." 

Another  entry  was  made  in  the  little  books,  with  the  gold  pencil- 
cases  ;  and  Mr.  Simmery  having  by  this  time  killed  all  the  flies  and 
taken  all  the  bets,  strolled  away  to  the  Stock  Exchange  to  see  what 
was  going  forward. 

Wilkins  Flasher,  Esquire,  now  condescended  to  receive  Mr.  Solomon 
Pell's  instructions  ;  and  having  filled  up  some  printed  forms,  requested 
the  party  to  follow  him  to  the  Bank,  which  they  did :  Mr.  Weller  and 
his  three  friends  staring  at  all  they  beheld  in  unbounded  astonishment, 


THE    PICKWICK  CLUB.  593 

and  Sam  encountering  every  thing  with  a  coolness  which  nothing  could 
disturb. 

Crossing  a  court-yard  which  was  all  noise  and  bustle ;  and  passing 
a  couple  of  porters  who  seemed  dressed  to  match  the  red  fire-engine 
which  was  wheeled  away  into  a  corner,  they  passed  into  an  office  where 
their  business  was  to  be  transacted,  where  Pell  and  Mr.  Flasher  left 
them  standing  for  a  few  moments,  while  they  went  up  stairs  into  the 
Will  Office. 

"  Wot  place  is  this  here  ?  "  whispered  the  mottled-faced  gentleman 
to  the  elder  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Counsel's  Office,"  replied  the  executor  in  a  whisper, 
"  Wot  are  them  gen' I'men  a  settin'  behind  the  counters  ? ''  asked  the 
hoarse  coachman. 

"  Reduced  counsels,  I  s'pose,''  replied  Mr.  Weller.  *'  Ain't  they 
the  reduced  counsels,  Samivel  ?  " 

'^  Wy,  you  don't  suppose  the  reduced  counsels  is  alive,  do  you  ?  " 
enquired  Sam,  with  some  disdain. 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  "  retorted  Mr.  Weller ;  "  I  thought  they 
looked  wery  like  it.     Wot  are  they,  then  ?  " 
'*  Clerks,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Wot  are  they  all  a  eatin'  ham  sangwidges  for  > "  enquired  his 
father. 

*'  'Cos  it's  in  their  dooty,  I  suppose,"  replied  Sam,  '^  it's  a  part  o* 
the  system  ;  they're  alvays  a  doin'  it  here,  all  day  long  !  " 

Mr.  Weller  and  his  friends  had  scarcely  had  a  moment  to  reflect 
upon  this  singular  regulation  as  connected  with  the  monetary  system 
of  the  country,  when  they  were  rejoined  by  Pell  and  Wilkins  Flasher, 
Esquire,  who  led  them  to  a  part  of  the  counter  above  which  was  a 
round  black  board  with  a  large  ''  W  "  on  it. 

"  Wot's  that  for.  Sir  ?  "  enquired  Mr.  Weller,  directing  Pell's  atten- 
tion to  the  target  in  question. 

"  The  first  letter  of  the  name  of  the  deceased,"  replied  Pell. 
"  I  say,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  turning  round  to  the  umpires.     "  There's 
somethin'  wrong  here.     We's  our  letter — this  won't  do." 

The  referees  at  once  gave  it  as  their  decided  opinion  that  the  business 
could  not  be  legally  proceeded  with,  under  the  letter  W,  and  in  all  pro- 
bability it  would  have  stood  over  for  one  day  at  least,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  prompt  though  at  first  sight  undutiful  behaviour  of  Sam,  who 
seizing  his  father  by  the  skirt  of  the  coat,  dragged  him  to  the  counter, 
and  pinned  him  there  until  he  had  affixed  his  signature  to  a  couple  of 
instruments,  which  from  Mr.  Weller's  habit  of  printing,  was  a  work  of 
so  much  labour  and  time  that  the  officiating  clerk  peeled  and  cut  three 
Ripstone  pippins  while  it  was  performing. 

As  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  insisted  on  selling  out  his  portion  forth- 
with, they  proceeded  from  the  Bank  to  the  gate  of  the  Stock  Exchange, 
to  which  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esq.,  after  a  short  absence,  returned  with 
a  cheque  on  Smith,  Payne,  &  Smith,  for  five  hundred  and  thirty  pounds, 
that  being  the  sum  of  money  to  which  Mr.  Weller  at  the  market  price 
of  the  day,  was  entitled,  in  consideration  of  the  balance  of  the  second 
Mrs.   Weller's    funded  savings.     Sam's   two  hundred  pounds  stood 


594  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

transferred  to  his  name,  and  Wilkins  Flasher,  Esq.,  having  been  paid 
his  commission,  dropped  the  money  carelessly  into  his  coat  pocket,  and 
lounged  back  to  his  office. 

Mr.  VVeller  was  at  first  obstinately  determined  upon  cashing  the 
cheque  in  nothing  but  sovereigns ;  but  on  its  being  represented  by  the 
umpires  that  by  so  doing  he  must  incur  the  expense  of  a  small  sack  to 
carry  them  home  in,  he  consented  to  receive  the  amount  in  live-pound 
notes. 

"  My  son,"  said  Mr.  Weller  as  they  came  out  of  the  banking-house, 
'^  my  son  and  me  has  a  wery  partickler  engagement  this  arternoon,  and 
I  should  like  to  have  this  here  bis'ness  settled  out  of  hand,  so  let's  jest 
go  straight  avay  someveres,  vere  ve  can  hordit  the  accounts." 

A  quiet  room  was  soon  found,  and  the  accounts  were  produced  and 
audited.  Mr.  Pell's  bill  was  taxed  by  Sam,  and  some  charges  were 
disallowed  by  the  umpires ;  but,  notwithstanding  Mr.  Pell's  declaration, 
accompanied  with  many  solemn  asseverations  that  they  were  really  too 
hard  upon  him,  it  was  by  very  many  degrees  the  best  professional  job 
he  had  ever  had,  and  one  on  which  he  boarded,  lodged,  and  washed,  for 
six  months  afterwards. 

The  umpires  having  partaken  of  a  dram,  shook  hands  and  departed, 
as  they  had  to  drive  out  of  town  that  night.  Mr.  Solomon  Pell,  finding 
that  nothing  more  was  going  forward  either  in  the  eating  or  drinking 
way,  took  a  most  friendly  leave  j  and  Sam  and  his  father  were  left 
alone. 

"  There,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  thrusting  his  pocket  book  in  his  side 
pocket,  "  vith  the  bills  for  the  lease  and  that,  there's  eleven  hundred 
and  eighty  pound  here.  Now  Samivel,  my  boy,  turn  the  horse's  heads 
to  the  George  and  Wulter." 


CHAPTER  LV, 

AN  IMPORTANT  CONFERENCE  TAKES  PLACE  BETWEEN  MR.  PICKWICK 
AND  SAMUEL  WELLER,  AT  WHICH  HIS  PARENT  ASSISTS.  —  AN  OLD 
GENTLEMAN  IN  A  SNUFF-COLOURED  SUIT  ARRIVES  UNEXPECTEDLY. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  sitting  alone,  musing  over  many  things,  and 
thinking,  among  other  considerations,  how  he  could  best  provide  for 
the  young  couple  whose  present  unsettled  condition  was  matter  of 
constant  regret  and  anxiety  to  him,  when  Mary  stepped  lightly  into  the 
room,  and,  advancing  to  the  table,  said  rather  hastily — 

'^  Oh,  if  you  please  Sir,  Samuel  is  down  stairs,  and  he  says  may  his 
father  see  you  }  " 

"  Surely,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Thank  you.  Sir,"  said  Mary,  tripping  towards  the  door  again. 

"  Sam  has  not  been  here  long,  has  he  ?  "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Oh  no.  Sir,"  replied  Mary  eagerly.  *«  He  has  only  just  come  home. 
He  is  not  going  to  ask  you  for  any  more  leave.  Sir,  he  says." 


THE    PICKWICK  CLUB.  595 

Mary  might  have  been  conscious  that  slie  had  communicated  this 
last  intelligence  with  more  warmth  than  seemed  actually  necessary,  or 
she  might  have  observed  the  good-humoured  smile  with  which  IVIr. 
Pickwick  regarded  her  when  she  had  finished  speaking.  She  certainly 
held  down  her  head,  and  examined  the  corner  of  a  very  smart  little 
apron  with  more  closeness  than  there  appeared  any  absolute  occasion  for. 

"  Tell  them  they  can  come  up  at  once,  by  all  means/'  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

Mary,  apparently  much  relieved,  hurried  away  with  her  message. 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  two  or  three  turns  up  and  down  the  room ;  and, 
rubbing  his  chin  with  his  left  hand  as  he  did  so,  appeared  lost  in 
thought. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  at  length,  in  a  kind  but  somewhat 
melancholy  tone,  *'  it  is  the  best  way  in  which  I  could  reward  him  for 
his  attachment  and  fidelity  ;  let  it  be  so,  in  Heaven's  name.  It  is  the 
fate  of  a  lonely  old  man,  that  those  about  him  should  form  new  and 
different  attachments  and  leave  him.  I  have  no  right  to  expect  that  it 
should  be  otherwise  with  me.  No,  no,"  added  Mr.  Pickwick  more 
cheerfully,  "  it  would  be  selfish  and  ungrateful.  I  ought  to  be  happy 
to  have  an  opportunity  of  providing  for  him  so  well.  1  am — of  course 
lam." 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  so  absorbed  in  these  reflections,  that  a  knock 
at  the  door  was  three  or  four  times  repeated  before  he  heard  it.  Hastily 
seating  himself,  and  calling  up  his  accustomed  pleasant  looks,  he  gave 
the  required  permission,  and  Sam  Weller  entered,  followed  by  his 
father. 

'*  Glad  to  see  you  back  again,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  How 
do  you  do,  Mr.  Weller  ? " 

"  Wery  hearty,  thankee  Sir,"  replied  the  widower;  *^hope  I  see 
you  well.  Sir." 

"  Quite,  I  thank  you,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  wanted  to  have  a  little  bit  o'  conwersation  with  you.  Sir,"  said 
Mr.  Weller,  ''  if  you  could  spare  me  five  minits  or  so,  Sir." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  ^'  Sam,  give  your  father  a 
chair." 

'^Thankee,  Samivel,  I've  got  a  cheer  here,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
bringing  one  forward  as  he  spoke ;  '^  uncommon  fine  day  it's  been. 
Sir,"  added  the  old  gentleman,  laying  his  hat  on  the  floor  as  he  set 
himself  down. 

"Remarkably  so  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "Very  season- 
able." 

"  Seasonablest  veather  I  ever  see,  Sir,"  rejoined  JMr.  Weller.  Here 
the  old  gentleman  was  seized  with  a  violent  fit  of  coughing,  which  being 
terminated,  he  nodded  his  head,  and  winked,  and  made  several  suppli- 
catory and  threatening  gestures  to  his  son,  all  of  which  Sam  Weller 
steadily  abstained  from  seeing. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  perceiving  that  there  was  some  embarrassment  on 
the  old  gentleman's  part,  affected  to  be  engaged  in  cutting  the  leaves 
of  a  book  that  lay  beside  him ;  and  waited  patiently  until  Mr.  Weller 
should  arrive  at  the  object  of  his  visit. 

T  T 


593  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS    OF 

*'  I  never  see  sich  a  aggerawatin  boy  as  you  are,  Samivel,"  said  Mr. 
Weller,  looking  indignantly  at  his  son ;  "  never  in  all  my  born  days." 

"  What  is  he  doing,  Mr.  Weller  }  "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  He  von't  begin,  Sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller ;  '*  he  knows  I  ain't 
ekal  to  ex-pressin'  myself  ven  there's  anythin'  pariickler  to  be  done, 
and  yet  he'll  stand  and  see  me  a  settin'  here  takin'  up  your  walable 
time,  and  makin'  a  reg'lar  spectacle  o'  myself,  rayther  than  help  me 
out  vith  a  syllable.  It  ain't  filial  conduct,  Samivel,"  said  Mr.  W^eller,- 
wiping  his  forehead ;  "  wery  far  from  it." 

**  You  said  you'd  speak,"  replied  Sam  ;  "  how  should  I  know  you 
wos  done  up  at  the  wery  beginnin' }  " 

"  You  might  ha*  seen  I  warn't  able  to  start,"  rejoined  his  father  ; 
*'  I'm  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  road,  and  backin'  into  the  palins  and  all 
manner  of  unpleasantness,  and  yet  you  von't  put  out  a  hand  to  help 
me.     I'm  ashamed  on  you,  Samivel." 

♦'  The  fact  is,  Sir,"  said  Sam,  with  a  slight  bow,  "  the  gov'ner's  been 
a  drawin'  his  money." 

^'Wery  good,  Samivel,  wery  good,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  nodding  his 
head  with  a  satisfied  air,  ^'  I  didn't  mean  to  speak  harsh  to  you, 
Sammy.  Wery  good.  That's  the  vay  to  begin  ;  come  to  the  pint  at 
once.     Wery  good  indeed,  Samivel." 

]Mr.  Weller  nodded  his  head  an  extraordinary  number  of  times  in 
the  excess  of  his  gratification,  and  waited  in  a  listening  attitude  for 
Sam  to  resume  his  statement. 

^'  You  may  sit  down,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  apprehending  that 
the  interview  was  likely  to  prove  rather  longer  than  he  had  expected. 

Sam  bowed  again  and  sat  down ;  his  father  looking  round,  he  con- 
tinued, 

"  The  gov'ner.  Sir,  has  drawn  out  five  hundred  and  thirty  pound.'' 

'•  Reduced  counsels,"  interposed  INIr.  Weller,  senior,  in  an  under 
tone. 

"It  don't  much  matter  vether  it's  reduced  counsels,  or  wot  not," 
said  Sam  ;  "  five  hundred  and  thirty  pound  is  the  sum,  ain't  it  }  " 

"  All  right,  Samivel,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  To  vich  sum,  he  has  added  for  the  house  and  bisness — " 

"  Lease,  good-vill,  stock,  and  fixters,"  interposed  Mr.  Weller. 

-^"  As  much  as  makes  it,"  continued  Sam,  "altogether,  eleven 
hundred  and  eighty  pound.'' 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it.  I  con- 
gratulate you,  Mr.  Weller,  on  having  done  so  well." 

**  Vait  a  minit,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  raising  his  hand  in  a  depre- 
catory manner.     '*  Get  on,  Samivel.'' 

"  This  here  money,"  said  Sam,  with  a  little  hesitation,  "  he's  anxious 
to  put  someveres  vere  he  knows  it'll  be  safe,  and  I'm  wery  anxious  too, 
for  if  he  keeps  it,  he'll  go  a  lendin'  it  to  somebody,  or  inwestin'  pro- 
perty in  horses,  or  droppin'  his  pocket-book  down  a  airy,  or  makin' 
an  Egyptian  mummy  of  his-self  in  some  vay  or  another.'' 

"  Wery  good,  Samivel,"  observed  Mr.  Weller,  in  as  complacent 
a  manner  as  if  Sam  had  been  passing  the  highest  eulogiums  on  his 
prudence  and  foresight.     **  Wery  good.'' 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  597 

"  For  vich  reasons,"  continued  Sam,  plucking  nervously  at  the  brim 
of  his  hat ;  "  for  vich  reasons  he's  drawn  it  out  to-day,  and  come  here 
vith  me  to  say,  leastvays  to  offer,  or  in  other  vords  to — " 

"  To  say  this  here,"  said  the  elder  IMr.  Weller,  impatiently,  "  that  it 
ain't  o'  no  use  to  me  ;  I'm  a  goin'  to  vork  a  coach  regular,  and  ha'nt 
got  noveres  to  keep  it  in,  unless  I  vos  to  pay  the  guard  for  takin'  care 
on  it,  or  to  put  it  in  vun  o'  the  coach  pockets,  vich  'ud  be  a  temptation  to 
the  insides.     If  you'll  take  care  on  it  for  me.  Sir,  I  shall  be  wery  much 

to  Mr.  Pick^ 
vay  towards  the 
say  is,  just  you  keep  it  till 
I  ask  you  for  it  again."  With  these  words,  Mr.  Weller  placed  the 
pocket-book  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  hands,  caught  up  his  hat.  and  ran  out 
of  the  room  with  a  celerity  scarcely  to  be  expected  from  so  corpulent  a 
subject. 

"  Stop  him,  Sam,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  earnestly.  "^  Overtake 
him  ;  bring  him  back  instantly  !     Mr.  Weller — here — come  back  !" 

Sam  saw  that  his  master's  injunctions  were  not  to  be  disobeyed  ;  and 
catching  his  father  by  the  arm  as  he  was  descending;  the  stairs,  drasTired 
him  back  by  mam  force. 

"  My  good  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  the  old  man  by  the 
hand  ;  **  your  honest  confidence  overpowers  me." 

"  I  don't  see  no  occasion  for  nothin  o'  the  kind.  Sir,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller,  obstinately. 

**  I  assure  you,  my  good  friend,  I  have  more  money  than  I  can  ever 
need ;  far  more  than  a  man  at  my  age  can  ever  live  to  spend,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  No  man  knows  how  much  he  can  spend  till  he  tries,"  observed 
Mr.  Weller. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  replied   Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "but  as  I  have  no  intention 
of  trying  any  such  experiments,  I  am   not  likely  to  come  to  want.     I* 
must  beg  you  to  take  this  back,  Mr.  Weller." 

"  Wery  well,"  said  Mr.  Weller  with  a  very  discontented  look.  "  Mark 
my  vords,  Sammy,  I'll  do  somethin*  desperate  vith  this  here  property ; 
somethin'  desperate  I" 

*'  You'd  better  not,"  replied  Sam. 

Mr.  Weller  reflected  for  a  short  time,  and  then  buttoning  up  his  coat 
with  great  determination,  said — 

''  I'll  keep  a  pike." 

"  Wot !  "  exclaimed  Sam. 

"^  A  pike,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller,  through  his  set  teeth ;  "  I'll  keep  a 
pike.  Say  good  b'ye  to  your  father,  Samivel ;  I  dewote  the  remainder 
o'  my  days  to  a  pike." 

This  threat  was  such  an  awful  one,  and  Mr.  Weller  besides  appear- 
ing fully  resolved  to  carry  it  into  execution,  seemed  so  deeply  mortified 
by  Mr.  Pickwick's  refusal,  that  that  gentleman,  after  a  short  reflec- 
tion, said — 

"  Well,  well,  Mr.  Weller,  I  will  keep  the  money.  I  can  do  more, 
good  with  it,  perhaps,  than  you  can." 

T    T   2 


598  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS   OF 

"  Just  the  wery  thing,  to  be  sure,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  brightening  up  ; 
''  0*  course  you  can.  Sir." 

''  Say  no  more  about  it,"  said  Mr,  Pickwick,  locking  the  pocket-book 
in  his  desk  ;  "  I  am  heartily  obliged  to  you,  my  good  friend.  Now  sit 
down  again  ;  I  want  to  ask  your  advice." 

The  internal  laughter  occasioned  by  the  triumphant  success  of  his 
visit,  which  had  convulsed  not  only  Mr.  Weller's  face,  but  his  arms, 
legs,  and  body  also,  during  the  locking  up  of  the  pocket-book,  suddenly 
gave  place  to  the  most  dignified  gravity  as  he  heard  these  words. 

"  Wait  outside  a  few  minutes,  Sam,  will  you? ''  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Sam  immediately  withdrew. 

Mr.  Weller  looked  uncommonly  wise  and  very  much  amazed,  when 
Mr.  Pickwick  opened  the  discourse  by  saying — 

"  You  are  not  an  advocate  for  matrimony,  I  think,  Mr.  Weller?  " 

Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head.  He  was  wholly  unable  to  speak ;  for 
vague  thoughts  of  some  wicked  widow  having  been  successful  in  her 
designs  upon  Mr.  Pickwick,  choked  his  utterance. 

"  Did  you  happen  to  see  a  young  girl  down  stairs  when  you  came  in 
just  now  with  your  son  ?  "  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Yes — I  see  a  young  gal,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  shortly. 

*'What  did  you  think  of  her,  now? — Candidly,  Mr.  Weller,  what  did 
you  think  of  her  ?  " 

"  I  thought  she  wos  wery  plump,  and  veil  made,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
with  a  critical  air. 

"  So  she  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "so  she  is.  What  did  you  think  of 
her  manners,  from  what  you  saw  of  her?  " 

"Wery  pleasant,"  rejoined  Mr.  Weller.  "Wery  pleasant  and  con- 
formable." 

The  precise  meaning  which  Mr.  Weller  attached  to  this  last  mentioned 
adjective  did  not  appear,  but  as  it  was  evident  from  the  tone  in  which 
he  used  it  that  it  was  a  favourable  expression,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  as 
well  satisfied  as  if  he  had  been  thoroughly  enlightened  on  the  subject. 

*'  I  take  a  great  interest  in  her,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Mr.  Weller  coughed. 

"  I  mean  an  interest  in  her  doing  well,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  a 
desire  that  she  may  be  comfortable  and  prosperous.  You  understand?" 

"  Wery  clearly,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  who  understood  nothing  yet. 

^*  That  young  person,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  is  attached  to  your 
son." 

'*  To  Samivel  Veller  !  "  exclaimed  the  parent. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  It's  nat'ral,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  after  some  consideration,  "  nat'ral, 
but  rayther  alarmin'.     Sammy  must  be  careful." 

"  How  do  you  mean?"  enquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Wery  careful  that  he  don't  say  nothin'  to  her,"  responded  Mr. 
Weller.  "  Wery  careful  that  he  ain't  led  avay  in  a  innocent  moment 
to  say  anythin'  as  may  lead  to  a  conwiction  for  breach.  You're  never 
safe  vith  'em,  Mr.  Pickwick,  ven  they  vunce  has  designs  on  you ; 
there's  no  knowin'  vere  to  have  'em,  and  vile  you're  a-considering  of  it 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  599 

they  have  you.     I  wos  married  fust,  that  vay  myself,  Sir,  and  Sammy 
wos  the  consekens  o'  the  manoover." 

"  You  give  me  no  great  encouragement  to  condude  what  I  have  to 
say,"  observed  Mr.  Pickwick,  *<  but  I  had  better  do  so  at  once.  This 
young  person  is  not  only  attached  to  your  son,  Mr.  Weller,  but  your 
son  is  attached  to  her." 

''Veil,''  said  Mr.  Weller,  <'this  here's  a  pretty  sort  o' thing  to  come 
to  a  father's  ears,  this  is  !  " 

*'  I  have  observed  them  on  several  occasions,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
making  no  comment  on  Mr,  Weller's  last  remark  ;  ^'  and  entertain  no 
doubt  at  all  about  it.  Supposing  I  were  desirous  of  establishing  them 
comfortably  as  man  and  wife  in  some  little  business  or  situation,  where 
they  might  hope  to  obtain  a  decent  living,  what  should  you  think  of  it, 
Mr.  Weller?" 

At  first,  Mr.  Weller  received  with  wry  faces  a  proposition  involving 
the  marriage  of  anybody  in  v/hom  he  took  an  interest,  but  as  Mr.  Pick- 
wick argued  the  point  with  him,  and  laid  great  stress  upon  the  fact  that 
Mary  was  not  a  widow,  he  gradually  became  more  tractable.  Mr. 
Pickwick  had  great  influence  over  him  ;  and  he  had  been  much  struck 
with  Mary's  appearance,  having,  in  fact,  bestowed  several  very  un- 
fatherly  winks  upon  her,  already.  At  length  he  said  that  it  was  not 
foi*  him  to  oppose  Mr.  Pickwick's  inclination,  and  that  he  would  be 
very  happy  to  yield  to  his  advice  ;  upon  which  Mr.  Pickwick  joyfully 
took  him  at  his  word  and  called  Sam  back  into  the  room. 

**  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  clearing  his  throat,  "  your  father  and  I 
have  been  having  some  conversation  about  you." 

"  About  you,  Samivel,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  patronising  and  im- 
pressive voice. 

*'  I  am  not  so  blind,  Sam,  as  not  to  have  seen,  a  long  time  since,  that 
you  entertain  something  more  than  a  friendly  feeling  towards  Mrs. 
Winkle's  maid,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  You  hear  this,  Samivel  .^''  said  Mr.  Weller  in  the  same  judicial  form 
of  speech  as  before. 

"  I  hope.  Sir,"  said  Sam,  addressing  his  master,  "  I  hope  there's  no 
harm  in  a  young  man  takin'  notice  of  a  young  'ooman  as  is  undeniably 
good-looking  and  veil-conducted." 

*'  Certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Not  by  no  means,''  acquiesced  Mr.  Weller,  affably  but  magis- 
terially. 

**  So  far  from  thinking  that  there  is  anything  wrong  in  conduct  so 
natural,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  «'  it  is  my  wish  to  assist  and  promote 
your  wishes  in  this  respect.  With  this  view  I  have  had  a  little  conver- 
sation with  your  father,  and  finding  that  he  is  of  my  opinion — " 

"The  lady  not  bein'  a  vidder,"  interposed  Mr.  'Weller  in  explana- 
tion. 

"The  lady  not  being  a  widow,"  said  Mr.  Pick^vick,  smiling.  *'I 
wish  to  free  you  from  the  restraint  which  your  present  position  imposes 
upon  you  :  and  to  mark  my  sense  of  your  fidelity  and  many  excellent 
qualities,  by  enabling  you  to  marry  this  girl  at  once,  and  to  earn  an  in- 
dependent livelihood  for  yourself  and  family.     I  shall  be  proud,  Sam," 


600  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS   OP 

said  Mr.  Pickwick,  whose  voice  had  faltered  a  little  hitherto,  but  now 
resumed  its  customary  tone,  "  proud  and  happy  to  make  your  future 
prospects  in  life  my  grateful  and  peculiar  care." 

There  was  a  profound  silence  for  a  short  time,  and  then  Sam  said  in 
-a  low  husky  sort  of  voice,  but  firmly  withal — 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  goodness.  Sir,  as  is  only 
like  yourself,  but  it  can't  be  done." 

"  Can't  be  done  ! "  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick  in  astonishment. 

"  Samivel ! ''  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  dignity. 

"  I  say  it  can't  be  done,"  repeated  Sam  in  a  louder  key.  "  Wot's  to 
become  of  you.  Sir  ?  " 

"  My  good  fellow,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  *'  the  recent  changes  among 
my  friends  will  alter  my  mode  of  life  in  future,  entirely ;  besides  I  am 
growing  older,  and  want  repose  and  quiet.  My  rambles,  Sam,  are 
^ver." 

*'  How  do  I  know  that  'ere.  Sir  ?"  argued  Sam ;  "  you  think  so  now  ! 
S'pose  you  wos  to  change  your  mind,  vich  is  not  unlikely,  for  you've  the 
spirit  o'  five-and-tventy  in  you  still, — what  'ud  become  on  you  vithout 
me  ?     It  can't  be  done.  Sir,  it  can't  be  done." 

"  Wery  good,  Samivel,  there's  a  good  deal  in  that,'*  said  Mr.  Weller, 
encouragingly. 

"I  speak  after  long  deliberation,  Sam,  and  with  the  certainty  that 
I  shall  keep  my  word,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  shaking  his  head.  "  New 
scenes  have  closed  upon  me ;  my  rambles  are  at  an  end." 

*'  Wery  good,"  rejoined  Sam.  '^  Then  that's  the  wery  best  reason  wy 
you  should  alvays  have  somebody  by  you  as  understands  you,  to  keep 
you  up  and  make  you  comfortable.  If  you  vant  a  more  polished  sort  o' 
feller,  veil  and  good,  have  him  ;  but  vages  or  no  vages,  notice  or  no 
notice,  board  or  no  board,  lodgin'  or  no  lodgin',  Sam  Veller,  as  you  took 
from  the  old  inn  in  the  Borough,  sticks  by  you,  come  what  come  may  ; 
and  let  ev'rythin'  and  everybody  do  their  wery  fiercest,  nothin'  shall 
ever  per  went  it.'' 

At  the  close  of  this  declaration,  which  Sam  made  with  great  emotion, 
the  elder  Mr.  Weller  rose  from  his  chair,  and  forgetting  all  considera- 
tions of  time,  place,  or  propriety,  waved  his  hat  above  his  head  and 
gave  three  vehement  cheers. 

"  My  good  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  Mr.  Weller  had  sat 
down  again,  rather  abashed  at  his  o^vn  enthusiasm,  "  you  are  bound  to 
consider  the  young  woman  also." 

"  I  do  consider  the  young  'ooman.  Sir,"  said  Sam.  "  I  have  considered 
the  young  'ooman,  I've  spoke  to  her,  I've  told  her  how  I'm  sitivated, 
she's  ready  to  vait  till  I'm  ready,  and  I  believe  she  vill.  If  she  don't, 
she's  not  the  young  'ooman  I  take  her  for,  and  I  give  her  up  vith 
readiness.  You've  know'd  me  afore.  Sir.  My  mind's  made  up,  and 
nothin'  can  ever  alter  it." 

Who  could  combat  this  resolution?  Not  Mr.  Pickwick.  He 
derived  at  that  moment  more  pride  and  luxury  of  feeling  from  the 
disinterested  attachment  of  his  humble  friends,  than  ten  thousand 
protestations  from  the  greatest  men  living  could  have  awakened  in  his 
ieart. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  601 

While  this  conversation  was  passing  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  room,  a  little 
old  gentleman  in  a  suit  of  snuff-coloured  clothes,  followed  by  a  porter 
carrying  a  small  portmanteau,  presented  himself  below ;  and  after 
securing  a  bed  for  the  night,  enquired  of  the  waiter  whether  one  Mrs. 
Winkle  was  staying  there,  to  which  question  the  waiter  of  course 
responded  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Is  she  alone  ?"  enquired  the  little  old  gentleman. 

"  I  believe  she  is,  Sir,"  replied  the  waiter ;  "  I  can  call  her  own 
maid,  Sir,  if  you  " 

"  No,  I  don't  want  her,"  said  the  old  gentleman  quickly.  "  Show 
me  to  her  room  without  announcing  me." 

*'  Eh,  Sir  ?"  said  the  waiter. 

"Are  you  deaf?"  enquired  the  little  old  gentleman. 

"  No,  Sir." 

"  Then  listen,  if  you  please.    Can  you  hear  me  now  ?  " 

«*  Yes,  Sir." 

"  That's  well.  Show  me  to  Mrs.  Winkle's  room,  without  announc- 
ing me." 

As  the  little  old  gentleman  uttered  this  command,  he  slipped  five 
shillings  into  the  waiter's  hand,  and  looked  steadily  at  him. 

"Really,  Sir,"  said  the  waiter,  '*  I  don't  know  Sir  whether *' 

'*  Ah  !  you'll  do  it,  I  see,"  said  the  little  old  gentleman.  "  You  had 
better  do  it  at  once.     It  will  save  time." 

There  was  something  so  very  cool  and  collected  in  the  gentleman's 
manner,  that  the  waiter  put  the  five  shillings  in  his  pocket,  and  led 
him  up  stairs  without  another  word. 

"  This  is  the  room,  is  it  f"  said  the  gentleman.     "  You  may  go." 

The  waiter  complied,  wondering  much  who  the  gentleman  could  be, 
and  what  he  wanted ;  the  little  old  gentleman  waiting  till  he  was  out 
of  sight,  tapped  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Arabella. 

"  Um,  a  pretty  voice  at  any  rate,"  murmured  the  little  old  gentleman ; 
"  but  that's  nothing."  As  he  said  this,  he  opened  the  door  and  walked 
in.  Arabella,  who  was  sitting  at  work,  rose  on  beholding  a  stranger — 
a  little  confused,  but  by  no  means  ungracefully  so. 

"  Pray  don't  rise.  Ma'am,"  said  the  unknown,  walking  in  and  closing 
the  door  after  him.     "  Mrs.  Winkle.  I  believe  ?  " 

Arabella  inclined  her  head. 

"  Mrs.  Nathaniel  Winkle,  who  married  the  son  of  the  old  man  at 
Birmingham?"  said  the  stranger,  eyeing  Arabella  with  visible 
<;uriosity. 

Again  Arabella  inclined  her  head,  and  looked  uneasily  round,  as  if 
uncertain  whether  to  call  for  assistance. 

'*  I  surprise  you,  I  see.  Ma'am,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

''  Rather,  I  confess,"  replied  Arabella,  wondering  more  and  more. 

"  I'll  take  a  chair,  if  you'll  allow  me.  Ma'am,"  said  the  stranger. 

He  took  one ;  and  drawing  a  spectacle-case  from  his  pocket,  leisurely 
pulled  out  a  pair  of  spectacles,  which  he  adjusted  on  his  nose. 

*'  You  don't  know  me.  Ma'am  .^"  he  said,  looking  so  intently  at 
Arabella,  that  she  began  to  feel  quite  alarmed. 


602  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  No,  Sir/'  she  replied,  timidly. 

"  No/'  said  the  gentleman,  nursing  his  left  leg ;  "  I  don't  know  how 
you  should.     You  know  my  name,  though.  Ma'am." 

'^  Do  I  ?  "  said  Arabella,  trembling,  though  she  scarcely  knew  why. 
"  May  I  ask  what  it  is  }  " 

"  Presently,  JMa'am,  presently,"  said  the  stranger,  not  having  yet  re- 
moved his  eyes  from  her  countenance.  "  You  have  been  recently 
married.  Ma'am." 

"  I  have,"  replied  Arabella,  in  a  scarcely  audible  tone,  laying  aside 
her  work,  and  becoming  greatly  agitated  as  a  thought,  that  had  oc- 
curred to  her  before,  struck  more  forcibly  upon  her  mind. 

"  Without  having  represented  to  your  husband  the  propriety  of  first 
consulting  his  father,  on  whom  he  is  dependent,  I  think  ? "  said  the 
stranger. 

Arabella  applied  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

"  Without  an  endeavour  even  to  ascertain,  by  some  indirect  appeal, 
what  were  the  old  man's  sentiments  on  a  point  in  which  he  would 
naturally  feel  much  interested,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  I  cannot  deny  it.  Sir,"  said  Arabella. 

"And  without  having  sufficient  property  of  your  own  to  afford  your 
liusband  any  permanent  assistance  in  exchange  for  the  worldly  ad- 
vantages which  you  knew  he  would  have  gained  if  he  had  married 
agreeably  to  his  father's  wishes,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  '^  This  is 
what  boys  and  girls  call  disinterested  affection,  till  they  have  boys  and 
girls  of  their  own,  and  then  they  see  it  in  a  rougher  and  very  different 
light." 

Arabella's  tears  flowed  fast,  as  she  pleaded  in  extenuation  that  she 
was  young  and  inexperienced  ;  that  her  attachment  had  alone  induced 
her  to  take  the  step  to  which  she  had  resorted,  and  that  she  had  been 
deprived  of  the  counsel  and  guidance  of  her  parents  almost  from 
infancy. 

"  It  was  wrong,"  said  the  old  gentleman  in  a  milder  tone,  ^^  very 
wrong.     It  was  romantic,  unbusiness-like,  foolish." 

"  It  was  my  fault ;  all  my  fault.  Sir,"  replied  poor  Arabella, 
weeping. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  ''  it  was  not  your  fault  that  he 
fell  in  love  with  you,  I  suppose.  Yes  it  was  though,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  looking  rather  slyly  at  Arabella.  "  It  was  your  fault.  He 
couldn't  help  it." 

This  little  compliment,  or  the  little  gentleman's  odd  way  of  paying 
it,  or  his  altered  manner — so  much  kinder  than  it  was  at  first — or  all 
three  together,  forced  a  smile  from  Arabella  in  the  midst  of  her 
tears. 

"  Where's  your  husband  ?  "  enquired  the  old  gentleman,  abruptly ; 
stopping  a  smile  which  was  just  coming  over  his  own  face. 

"  I  expect  him  every  instant.  Sir,"  said  Arabella.  "  I  persuaded 
him  to  take  a  walk  this  morning.  He  is  very  low  and  wretched  at  not 
having  heard  from  his  father." 

.    "  Low,  is  he.'*"  said  the  old  gentleman.     *'  Serve  him  right." 
"He  feels  it  on  my  account,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Arabella ;   ''and 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  608 

indeed,  Sir,  I  feel  it  deeply  on  his.  I  have  been  the  sole  means  of 
bringing  him  to  his  present  condition." 

*' Don't  mind  it  on  his  account,  my  dear/'  said  the  old  gentleman. 
**  It  serves  him  right.  I  am  glad  of  it — actually  glad  of  it,  as  far  as 
he  is  concerned." 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  the  old  gentleman's  lips,  when  foot- 
steps were  heard  ascending  the  stairs,  which  he  and  Arabella  seemed 
both  to  recognize  at  the  same  moment.  The  little  gentleman  turned 
pale  ;  and  making  a  strong  effort  to  appear  composed,  stood  up  as  Mr. 
Winkle  entered  the  room. 

''  Father  !  "  said  INIr.  Winkle,  recoiling  in  amazement. 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  replied  the  little  old  gentleman.  *'  Well,  Sir,  what 
have  you  got  to  say  to  me  ?  " 

Mr.  Winkle  remained  silent. 

"  You  are  ashamed  of  yourself,  I  hope.  Sir,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

Still  Mr.  Winkle  said  nothing. 

"  Are  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  Sir,  or  are  you  not .'' "  enquired  the 
old  gentleman. 

"  No,  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  drawing  Arabella's  arm  through 
his.     *'  I  am  not  ashamed  of  myself,  or  of  my  wife  either." 

"  Upon  my  word  !"  cried  the  old  gentleman,  ironically. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  done  anything  which  has  lessened  your 
affection  for  me,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle ;  "  but  I  will  say  at  the  same 
time,  that  I  have  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  having  this  lady  for  my 
wife,  or  you  for  having  her  for  a  daughter." 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  Nat.,"  said  the  old  gentleman  in  an  altered  voice. 
'^  Kiss  me,  my  love  ;  you  are  a  very  charming  daughter-in-law  after  all !" 

In  a  few  minutes'  time  Mr.  Winkle  went  in  search  of  Mr.  Pickwick, 
and  returning  ^vith  that  gentleman,  presented  him  to  his  father, 
whereupon  they  shook  hands  for  five  minutes  incessantly. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  all  your  kindness  to 
my  son,"  said  old  Mr.  Winkle,  in  a  bluff,  straightforward  way.  "  I  am 
a  hasty  fellow,  and  when  1  saw  you  last,  I  was  vexed  and  taken  by 
surprise.  I  have  judged  for  myself  now,  and  am  more  than  satisfied. 
Shall  I  make  any  more  apologies,  Mr.  Pickwick  }  " 

"  Not  one,"  replied  that  gentleman.  "  You  have  done  the  only 
thing  wanting  to  complete  my  happiness." 

Hereupon  there  was  another  shaking  of  hands  for  five  minutes 
longer,  accompanied  by  a  great  number  of  complimentary  speeches, 
which,  besides  being  complimentary,  had  the  additional  and  very  novel 
recommendation  of  being  sincere. 

Sam  had  dutifully  seen  his  father  to  the  Belle  Sauvage,  when,  on  re- 
turning, he  encountered  the  fat  boy  in  the  court,  who  had  been  charged 
with  the  delivery  of  a  note  from  Emily  Wardle. 

"  I  say,"  said  Joe,  who  was  unusually  loquacious,  *'  what  a  pretty 
girl  Mary  is,  isn't  she  ?     I  am  50  fond  of  her,  I  am  ! " 

Mr.  Weller  made  no  verbal  remark  in  reply,  but  eyeing  the  fat  boy 
for  a  moment,  quite  transfixed  at  his  presumption,  led  him  by  the 
collar  to  the  corner,  and  dismissed  him  with  a  harmless  but  ceremo- 
nious kick ;  after  which,  he  walked  home,  whistling. 


604  POSTHUMOUS    PAPBRS    OP 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

IN  WHICH  THE  PICKWICK  CLUB  IS  FINALLY  DISSOLVED,  AND 
EVERYTHING  CONCLUDED  TO  THE  SATISFACTION  OF  EVERY- 
BODY. 

For  a  whole  week  after  the  happy  arrival  of  Mr.  Winkle  from 
Birmingham,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  Weller  were  from  home  all  day- 
long, only  returning  just  in  time  for  dinner,  and  then  wearing  an  air 
of  mystery  and  importance  quite  foreign  to  their  natures.  It  was 
evident  that  very  grave  and  eventful  proceedings  were  on  foot,  but 
various  surmises  were  afloat  respecting  their  precise  character.  Some 
(among  whom  was  Mr.  Tupman)  were  disposed  to  think  that  Mr. 
:  Pickwick  contemplated  a  matrimonial  alliance,  but  this  idea  the  ladies 
most  strenuously  repudiated ;  others  rather  inclined  to  the  belief  that 
he  had  projected  some  distant  tour,  and  was  at  present  occupied  in 
effecting  the  preliminary  arrangements,  but  this  again  was  stoutly 
denied  by  Sam  himself,  who  had  unequivocally  stated,  when  cross- 
examined  by  Mary,  that  no  new  journeys  were  to  be  undertaken.  At 
length,  when  the  brains  of  the  whole  party  had  been  racked  for  six 
long  days  by  unavailing  speculation,  it  was  unanimously  resolved  that 
Mr.  Pickwick  should  be  called  upon  to  explain  his  conduct,  and  to 
state  distinctly  why  he  had  thus  absented  himself  from  the  society  of 
his  admiring  friends. 

With  this  view,  Mr.  Wardle  invited  the  full  circle  to  dinner  at  the 
Adelphi,  and  the  decanters  having  been  twice  sent  round,  opened  the 
business. 

*'  We  are  all  anxious  to  know,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  what  we 
have  done  to  offend  you,  and  to  induce  you  to  desert  us  and  devote 
yourself  to  these  solitary  walks." 

"  Are  you  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  It  is  singular  enough  that  I 
had  intended  to  volunteer  a  full  explanation  this  very  day,  so  if  you 
will  give  me  another  glass  of  wine  I  will  satisfy  your  curiosity." 

The  decanters  passed  from  hand  to  hand  with  unwonted  briskness, 
and  Mr.  Pickwick  looking  round  on  the  faces  of  his  friends  with  a 
cheerful  smile,  proceeded — 

"All  the  changes  that  have  taken  place  among  us,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  "I  mean  the  marriage  that  has  taken  place,  and  the 
marriage  that  will  take  place,  with  the  changes  they  involve,  rendered 
it  necessary  for  me  to  think  soberly  and  at  once  upon  my  future 
plans.  I  determined  on  retiring  to  some  quiet,  pretty  neighbourhood 
in  the  vicinity  of  London ;  I  saw  a  house  which  exactly  suited  my 
fancy.  1  have  taken  it  and  furnished  it.  It  is  fully  prepared  for  my 
reception,  and  I  intend  entering  upon  it  at  once,  trusting  that  I  may 
yet  live  to  spend  many  quiet  years  in  peaceful  retirement ;  cheered 
through  life  by  the  society  of  my  friends,  and  followed  in  death  by 
their  affectionate  remembrance."  , 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  605 

Here  Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  and  a  low  murmur  ran  round  the 
table. 

''  The  house  I  have  taken,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  is  at  Duiwich  ; 
it  has  a  large  garden,  and  is  situated  in  one  of  the  most  pleasant  spots 
near  London.  It  has  been  fitted  up  with  every  attention  to  sub- 
stantial comfort ;  perhaps  to  a  little  elegance  besides  ;  but  of  that  you 
shall  judge  for  yourselves.  Sam  accompanies  me  there.  I  hare 
engaged,  on  Perker's  representation,  a  housekeeper — a  very  old  one — 
and  such  other  servants  as  she  thinks  I  shall  require.  I  propose  to 
consecrate  this  little  retreat  by  having  a  ceremony,  in  which  I  take  a 
great  interest,  performed  there.  I  wish,  if  my  friend  Wardle  entertains 
no  objection,  that  his  daughter  should  be  married  from  my  new  house, 
on  the  day  I  take  possession  of  it.  The  happiness  of  young  people," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  a  little  moved,  "  has  ever  been  the  chief  pleasure 
of  my  life.  It  will  warm  my  heart  to  witness  the  happiness  of  those 
friends  who  are  dearest  to  me,  beneath  my  own  roof." 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused  again:  and  Emily  and  Arabella  sobbed 
audibly. 

"  I  have  communicated,  both  personally  and  by  letter,  with  the  club,'* 
resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  acquainting  them  with  my  intention. 
During  our  long  absence  it  has  suffered  much  from  internal  dissen- 
sions ;  and  the  withdrawal  of  my  name,  coupled  with  this  and  other 
circumstances,  has  occasioned  its  dissolution.  The  Pickwick  Club 
exists  no  longer." 

"  I  shall  never  regret,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  in  a  low  voice — "  I  shall 
never  regret  having  devoted  the  greater  part  of  two  years  to  mixing 
with  different  varieties  and  shades  of  human  character,  frivolous  as 
my  pursuit  of  novelty  may  have  appeared  to  many.  Nearly  the  whole 
of  my  previous  life  having  been  devoted  to  business  and  the  pursuit  of 
wealth,  numerous  scenes  of  which  I  had  no  previous  conception  have 
dawned  upon  me — I  hope  to  the  enlargement  of  my  mind,  and  the 
improvement  of  my  understanding.  If  I  have  done  but  little  good, 
I  trust  I  have  done  less  harm,  and  that  none  of  my  adventures  will 
be  other  than  a  source  of  amusing  and  pleasant  recollections  to  me  in 
the  decline  of  life.    God  bless  you  all." 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Pickwick  filled  and  drained  a  bumper  with 
a  trembling  hand ;  and  his  eyes  moistened  as  his  friends  rose  with  one 
accord  and  pledged  him  from  their  hearts. 

There  were  very  few  preparatory  arrangements  to  be  made  for  the 
marriage  of  Mr.  Snodgrass.  As  he  had  neither  father  nor  mother,  and 
had  been  in  his  minority  a  ward  of  Mr.  Pickwick's,  that  gentleman  was 
perfectly  well  acquainted  with  his  possessions  and  prospects.  His 
account*  of  both  was  quite  satisfactory  to  Wardle — as  almost  any  other 
account  would  have  been,  for  the  good  old  gentleman  was  overflowing 
with  hilarity  and  kindness— and  a  handsome  portion  having  been 
bestowed  upon  Emily,  the  marriage  was  fixed  to  take  place  on  the 
fourth  day  from  that  time;  the  suddenness  of  which  preparations 
reduced  three  dress-makers  and  a  tailor  to  the  extreme  verge  of 
insanity. 

Getting  post-horses  to  the  carriage,  old  Wardle  started  oflf  next  day, 


606 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


to  bring  his  mother  up  to  town.  Communicating  his  intelligence  to 
the  old  lady  with  characteristic  impetuosity,  she  instantly  fainted  away, 
but  being  promptly  revived,  ordered  the  brocaded  silk  gown  to  be 
packed  up  forthwith,  and  proceeded  to  relate  some  circumstances  of  a 
similar  nature  attending  the  marriage  of  the  eldest  daughter  of  lady 
Tollinglower,  deceased,  which  occupied  three  hours  in  the  recital,  and 
were  not  half  finished  at  last. 

Mrs.  Trundle  had  to  be  informed  of  all  the  mighty  preparations  that 
were  making  in  London ;  and  being  in  a  delicate  state  of  health  was 
informed  thereof  through  Mr.  Trundle,  lest  the  news  should  be  too  much 
for  her ;  but  it  was  not  too  much  for  her,  inasmuch  as  she  at  once  Avrote 
off  to  IMuggleton  to  order  a  new  cap  and  a  black  satin  gown,  and 
moreover  avowed  her  determination  of  being  present  at  the  ceremony. 
Hereupon  Mr.  Trundle  called  in  the  doctor,  and  the  doctor  said  Mrs. 
Trundle  ought  to  know  best  how  she  felt  herself,  to  which  Mrs. 
Trundle  replied  that  she  felt  herself  quite  equal  to  it,  and  that  she 
had  made  up  her  mind  to  go ;  upon  which  the  doctor,  who  was  a  wise 
and  discreet  doctor,  and  knew  what  was  good  for  himself  as  well  as  for 
other  people,  said,  that  perhaps  if  Mrs.  Trundle  stopped  at  home  she 
might  hurt  herself  more  by  fretting  than  by  going,  so  perhaps  she  had 
better  go.  And  she  did  go ;  the  doctor  with  great  attention  sending 
in  half  a  dozen  of  medicine  to  be  drunk  upon  the  road. 

In  addition  to  these  points  of  distraction,  Wardle  was  entrusted 
with  two  small  letters  to  two  small  young  ladies  who  were  to  act  as 
bridesmaids  ;  upon  the  receipt  of  which,  the  two  young  ladies  were 
driven  to  despair  by  having  ho  "  things"  ready  for  so  important  an 
occasion,  and  no  time  to  make  them  in — a  circumstance  which  appeared 
to  afford  the  two  worthy  papas  of  the  two  small  young  ladies  rather  a 
feeling  of  satisfaction  than  otherwise.  However,  old  frocks  were 
trimmed  and  new  bomiets  made,  and  the  young  ladies  looked  as  well 
as  could  possibly  have  been  expected  of  them ;  and  as  they  cried  at  the 
subsequent  ceremony  in  the  proper  places  and  trembled  at  the  right 
times,,  they  acquitted  themselves  to  the  admiration  of  all  beholders. 

How  the  two  poor  relations  ever  reached  London — whether  they 
"walked,  or  got  behind  coaches,  or  procured  lifts  in  wagons,  or  carried 
each  other — is  uncertain,  but  there  they  were,  before  Wardle ;  and  the 
very  first  people  that  knocked  at  the  door  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  house  on 
the  bridal  morning,  were  the  two  poor  relations,  all  smiles  and 
shirt- collar. 

They  were  welcomed  heartily  though,  for  riches  or  poverty  had  no 
influence  on  Mr.  Pickwick ;  the  new  servants  were  all  alacrity  and  readi- 
ness :  Sam  in  a  most  unrivalled  state  of  high  spirits  and  excitement, 
and  Mary  glowing  with  beauty  and  smart  ribands. 

The  bridegroom,  who  had  been  staying  at  the  house  for  two  or  three 
days  previously,  sallied  forth  gallantly  to  Dulwich  church  to  meet  the 
bride,  attended  by  Mr.  Pickwick,  Ben  Allen,  Bob  Sawyer,  and  Mr. 
Tupman,  with.  Sam  Weller  outside,  having  at  his  button  hole  a  white 
favour,  the  gift  of  his  lady  love,  and  clad  in  a  new  and  gorgeous  suit 
of  livery  invented  expressly  for  the  occasion.  They  were  met  by  the 
Wardles,  and  the  Winkles,  and  the  bride  and  bridesmaids,  and  the 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  60? 

Trundles  ;  and  the  ceremony  having  been  performed,  the  coaches 
rattled  back  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  to  breakfast,  where  little  Mr.  Perker 
already  awaited  them. 

Here,  all  the  light  clouds  of  the  more  solemn  part  of  the  proceedings 
passed  away ;  every  face  shone  forth  joyously,  and  nothing  was  to  be 
heard  but  congratulations  and  commendations.  Everything  was  so 
beautiful !  The  lawn  in  front,  the  garden  behind,  the  miniature  con- 
servatory, the  dining-room,  the  drawing-room,  the  bed-rooms,  the 
smoking-room,  and  above  all  the  study  with  its  pictures  and  easy  chairs, 
and  odd  cabinets,  and  queer  tables,  and  books  out  of  number,  with  a 
large  cheerful  window  opening  upon  a  pleasant  lawn  and  commanding 
a  pretty  landscape,  just  dotted  here  and  there  with  little  houses  almost 
hidden  by  the  trees ;  and  then  the  curtains,  and  the  carpets,  and  the 
chairs,  and  the  sofas  !  Everything  was  so  beautiful,  so  compact,  so  neat 
and  in  such  exquisite  taste,  said  every  body,  that  there  really  was  no 
deciding  what  to  admire  most. 

And  in  the  midst  of  all  this,  stood  Mr.  Pickwick,  his  countenance 
lighted  up  with  smiles,  which  the  heart  of  no  man,  woman,  or  child, 
could  resist :  himself  the  happiest  of  the  group,  shaking  hands  over  and 
over  again  with  the  same  people,  and  when  his  own  were  not  so 
employed,  rubbing  them  with  pleasure ;  turning  round  in  a  different 
direction  at  every  fresh  expression  of  gratification  or  curiosity,  and 
inspiring  every  body  with  his  looks  of  gladness  and  delight. 

Breakfast  is  announced.  Mr.  Pickwick  leads  the  old  lady  (who 
has  been  very  eloquent  on  the  subject  of  Lady  Tollinglower),  to  the 
top  of  a  long  table ;  Wardle  takes  the  bottom,  the  friends  arrange 
themselves  on  either  side,  Sam  takes  his  station  behind  his  master's 
chair,  the  laughter  and  talking  cease ;  Mr.  Pickwick  having  said  grace, 
pauses  for  an  instant  and  looks  round  him.  As  he  does  so,  the  tears 
roll  down  his  cheeks  in  the  fullness  of  his  joy. 

Let  us  leave  our  old  friend  in  one  of  those  moments  of  unmixed 
happiness,  of  which,  if  we  seek  them,  there  are  ever  some  to  cheer  our 
transitory  existence  here.  There  are  dark  shadows  on  the  ©arth,  but  its 
lights  are  stronger  in  the  contrast.  Some  men,  like  bats  or  owls,  have 
better  eyes  for  the  darkness  than  for  the  light ;  we,  who  have  no  such 
optical  powers,  are  better  pleased  to  take  our  last  parting  look  at  the 
visionary  companions  of  many  solitary  hours,  when  the  brief  sunshine 
of  the  world  is  blazing  full  upon  them. 


It  is  the  fate  of  most  men  who  mingle  with  the  world  and  attain 
even  the  prime  of  life,  to  make  many  real  friends,  and  lose  them  in  the 
course  of  nature.  It  is  the  fate  of  all  authors  or  chroniclers  to  create 
imaginary  friends,  and  lose  them  in  the  course  of  art.  Nor  is  this  the 
full  extent  of  their  misfortunes ;  for  they  are  required  to  furnish  an 
account  of  them  besides. 

In  compliance  with  this  custom — unquestionably  a  bad  one — we 
subjoin  a  few  biographical  words  in  relation  to  the  party  at  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's assembled. 


608  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Winkle  being  fully  received  into  favour  by  the  old 
gentleman,  were  shortly  afterwards  installed  in  a  newly  built  house, 
not  half  a  mile  from  Mr.  Pickwick's.  Mr.  Winkle  being  engaged  in 
the  city  as  agent  or  town  correspondent  of  his  father,  exchanged  his  old 
costume  for  the  ordinary  dress  of  Englishmen,  and  presented  all  the 
external  appearance  of  a  civilised  christian  ever  afterwards. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Snodgrass  settled  at  Dingley  Dell,  where  they  pur- 
chased and  cultivated  a  small  farm,  more  for  occupation  than  profit. 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  being  occasionally  abstracted  and  melancholy,  is  to  this 
day  reputed  a  great  poet  among  his  friends  and  acquaintance,  although 
we  do  not  find  that  he  has  ever  written  anything  to  encourage  the  belief. 
We  know  many  celebrated  characters,  literary,  philosophical,  and 
otherwise,  who  hold  a  high  reputation  on  a  similar  tenure. 

Mr.  Tupman,  when  his  friends  married  and  Mr.  Pickwick  settled, 
took  lodgings  at  Richmond,  where  he  has  ever  since  resided.  He 
walks  constantly  on  the  Terrace  during  the  summer  months,  with  a 
youthful  and  janty  air,  which  has  rendered  him  the  admiration  of  the 
numerous  elderly  ladies  of  single  condition,  who  reside  in  the  vicinity. 
He  has  never  proposed  again. 

Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  having  previously  passed  through  the  Gazette, 
passed  over  to  Bengal,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  both 
gentlemen  having  received  surgical  appointments  from  the  East  India 
Company.  They  each  had  the  yellow  fever  fourteen  times,  and  then 
resolved  to  try  a  little  abstinence,  since  which  period  they  have  been 
doing  well. 

Mrs.  Bardell  let  lodgings  to  many  conversable  single  gentlemen 
with  great  profit,  but  never  brought  any  more  actions  for  a  breach  of 
promise  of  marriage.  Her  attorneys,  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  con- 
tinue in  business,  from  which  they  realise  a  large  income,  and  in  which 
they  are  universally  considered  among  the  sharpest  of  the  sharp. 

Sam  Weller  kept  his  word^  and  remained  unmarried  for  two  years. 
The  old  housekeeper  dying  at  the  end  of  that  time,  Mr.  Pickwick  pro- 
moted Mary  to  the  situation,  on  condition  of  her  marrying  Mr.  Weller 
at  once,  which  she  did  without  a  murmur.  From  the  circumstance  of 
two  sturdy  little  boys  having  been  repeatedly  seen  at  the  gate  of  the 
back  garden,  we  have  reason  to  suppose  that  Sam  has  some  family. 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller  drove  a  coach  for  twelve  months,  but  being 
afflicted  with  the  gout,  was  compelled  to  retire.  The  contents  of  the 
pocket-book  had  been  so  well  invested  for  him,  however,  by  IMr.  Pick- 
wick, that  he  had  a  handsome  independence  to  retire  on,  upon  which 
he  still  lives  at  an  excellent  public-house  near  Shooter's  Hill,  where 
he  is  quite  reverenced  as  an  oracle,  boasting  very  much  of  his  intimacy 
with  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  retaining  a  most  unconquerable  aversion  ta 
widows. 

Mr.  Pickwick  himself  continued  to  reside  in  his  new  house,  employing- 
his  leisure  hours  in  arranging  the  memoranda  which  he  afterwards  pre- 
sented to  the  secretary  of  the  once  famous  club,  or  in  hearing  Sam  Weller 
read  aloud,  with  such  remarks  as  suggested  themselves  to  his  mind,  which 
never  failed  to  afford  Mr.  Pickwick  great  amusement.  He  was  much 
troubled  at  first  by  the  numerous  applications  which  were  made  to  him 


i 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  609 

by  Mr.  Snodgrass,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr.  Trundle,  to  act  as  godfather 
to  their  offspring,  but  he  has  become  used  to  it  now,  and  officiates  as  a 
matter  of  course.  He  never  had  occasion  to  regret  his  bounty  to  ]\Ir. 
Jingle,  for  both  that  person  and  Job  Trotter  became  in  time  worthy 
members  of  society,  although  they  have  always  steadily  objected  to  re- 
turn to  the  scenes  of  their  old  haunts  and  temptations.  He  is  some- 
what infirm  now,  but  he  retains  all  his  former  juvenility  of  spirit,  and 
may  still  be  frequently  seen  contemplating  the  pictures  in  the  Dulwich 
Gallery,  or  enjoying  a  walk  about  the  pleasant  neighbourhood  on  a  fine 
day.  He  is  known  by  all  the  poor  people  about,  who  never  fail  to 
take  their  hats  off  as  he  passes  with  great  respect ;  the  children  idolise 
him,  and  so  indeed  does  the  whole  neighbourhood.  Every  year  he 
repairs  to  a  large  family  merry-making  at  Mr.  Wardle's ;  on  this,  as 
on  all  other  occasions,  he  is  invariably  attended  by  the  faithful  Sam, 
between  whom  and  his  master  there  exists  a  steady  and  reciprocal 
attachment,  whicli  nothing  but  death  will  sever. 


THE      END. 


LONDON : 

BRADBURY    AND    EVANS,  PRINTERS, 
WHITKFRIAR8. 


1 


*/2&0^ 


^j^'^  (aZAtiCu£  ixu.dL. 


J